Sherlock wasn't exactly pleased that Mycroft had mentioned the phone at all. He had revealed that little please of information purely in the event that he either died or for when he returned. He wanted to make sure the phone would stay at the Yard. However Mycroft was sick of seeing his brothers name dragged in the mud and knew how much it would mean to Sherlock's friends to know part of the truth. He also didn't appreciate people he worked with mentioning it again and again.

So he'd told Lestrade and the phone conversation had been released. And Mycroft had been so proud. Sherlock had been sketchy on the details of that day, so now Mycroft knew. He hoped one day his brother would forgive him and hoped wherever he was in Europe that he was safe.

Dear Normund,

Sorry this has taken a week to respond too. I just, had no idea what to write. Im sure your friend would never hate you, I'm sure he would forgive you. I don't know what happened before he went missing but its obvious you care about him very much and to me that says you are a good man. I would forgive you. Im sure he will too.

Yes, I am so happy to finally know the truth but the truth hurts. Yes, Sherlock didn't commit suicide, he sacrificed himself. He's still gone. He's still dead, nothing will change that. I'm still missing a part of myself. I still can't go back to his bloody flat. And I should. Mrs Hudson is very lonely at the moment, even though she knows the truth too. The flat is like..I just can't go in there without crying. He's everywhere in its walls, furniture etc.

I'm sorry you feel so lost, Normund. I hope you find your friend, soon I really do. I wish I could help in some way. If you ever come to England look me up. We could get a pint or something, I don't know.

Hope you are enjoying Spain, the photos are lovely by the way. I don't understand half your posts but still, keep doing what you're doing. It's wonderful.

John

"So, care to fill me in about this one?" Irene linked her arm through Sherlock's, who turned and gave her a bemused look before returning to his phone. "Leader of a drug cartal. Was helped by Moriarty, letting him export his products into several countries. Scope him and his hideout as discretely as you can and return to the hotel in one hour." He checked his watch and Irene removed her arm.

"Sounds like fun. I'll go get changed"

"What's wrong with what you're wearing?"

"Go deduce something somewhere, darling and leave this to me"

An hour later and Irene was back with a smile on her lips. "Tonight at twelve o'clock. He'll be alone. Your brother's men should have no trouble in catching his gang. Be careful and take a gun. Wear black." Smiling Sherlock nodded and headed to his suitcase, removing a black outfit and wool cap. Irene picked up a black suitcase and placed it on the bed. Irene hid a smile as she picked up the cap and pulled it over his red curls.

They did have separate rooms but Irene had wasted no time in figuring out the key code. Unlocking it, Irene pulled out several items. "These came for you today, lucky boy. Theres are quite high tech." She placed a pair of black sunglasses over his eyes. "Why would I wear sunglasses at night?" Irene smirked, picking uo the next item, a new silencer for his gun. "They're infer red ones silly". She also fixed his new earpiece to his face. "There.. perfect. Now off you pop. Call me if you need me."

Sherlock gave her a confused glance and left via the balcony.

When he did not return three hours later, Irene began to grow concerned. He had not called, or spoken through the earpiece. Throwing on a warm coat, she stole out into the night towards the hideout, a disused warehouse by the river. It was so dark that even her torch helped little.

She was afraid to cry out his name or any alias for fear both of them would be found. As she tip-toed through the building she was aware how utterly silent it was and her worry for Sherlock increased. She turned, thinking she had heard movement from behind her and was shocked to see a body lying on the floor behind some disused wooden crates.

It was the leader, with a bullet through his chest. Dead. But where was Sherlock? She crept past the dead body and moved around the crates to spot another prone form on the ground, blood quickly pooling around his leg. He'd been shot. The ear piece lay smashed on the floor, a small head wound spreading blood across the ground.

Irene quickly knelt beside his head, feeling for a pulse. Relived to find one she removed the scarf from the dead man's corpse and wrapped it tightly around his leg. With difficulty she pulled him up and wrapped one arm around her shoulder and half dragged the unconscious man from the building. Once outside she wasted little time in calling for help over their secured frequency.

Irene rested the detective's body on the ground outside and tapped his cheeks. But he wouldn't wake up. Oh Sherlock, what trouble did you get yourself into now? She continued to tap his cheeks and attempt to wake him until Mycroft's men arrived and took over from her. Hours later he would awaken, confused, disorientated and with a limp that would last three weeks.

To John Watson,

Forgive me again for taking so long to reply. I was taking photos the other day and did not look where I was going. As a result I have broken my leg. However I assure you I am quite fine now. I have to use crutches for the rest of the week, and then perhaps a cane. I am not looking forward to either. Fortunately Iduna has joined me for part of my trip. She is currently looking after to me. I fear she enjoys the job to well.

She is good at her job but insists on flirting with me. I am not interested, not really my area. However I feel she does it to simply tease me. Still she is the only friend I have right now. And it is not so bad to be waited on hand and foot. I am by no means a lazy man but I have been so busy lately my body needs the rest. As a medical man I am sure you would agree.

Still, my feet are restless, my body itches for another adventure. As soon as I am able to travel I am heading to Germany. Iduna wishes to come also. I suppose I am unable to stop her. Perhaps I can get her to take some photographs as well. Get her to make herself useful. What do you think?

I am sorry you still feel sad. I suppose that will not go away anytime soon. Thank you though. I hope my friend will forgive me too, if I see him again.

Normund.