The terrible twins had arrived and already endeared themselves to John. Already calling him Uncle John. It made his heart feel funny. Both children had far darker hair than their aunt. Lily had long curly chestnut hair and James, James had a full head of dark curls. It had unnerved John when he'd first seen him. So much like his lost friend's. He glanced over at the photo on the mantlepiece. After he'd first lost Sherlock, he'd jumped whenever he saw a man with dark curly hair. Just hoping, just maybe, Sherlock wasn't dead. But it was never Sherlock. It never would be.

Taking a breath he went back to chasing after the cheeky duo, fingers curled like claws and growling like a monster. Giggle and pretend screaming soon followed.

"Do we have to go to bed Aunt Mary?"

The two of them pouted, whining in unison, making their eyes as big and watery as possible. "'Fraid so, big day tomorrow." Lily sighed. "Can we at least have a story first?" Mary smiled and nodded. Before she could ask what story they would like, James, curious as ever, pointed to the photo of John and Sherlock.

"Who's that?"'

Mary gulped and looked at John. "James.. it's rude to point. It's none of your business who it is." James pouted again. John waved a hand. "No, it's ok really, he's just curious. Nothing wrong with that." James grinned. Success! "So...who is he?"

"He's my best friend"

"He has hair like me"

"Yes.. yes he does"

Lily glanced over as her brother was talking. "He looks happy." John replied with a sad smile. "Yeah, he does, doesn't he." Lily's eyes narrowed, she was only five but she knew when people are sad. "Why does he make you sad?" John raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think Im sad?" Lily looked to the floor. "Cause sometimes Mummy gets that look when she thinks of her sister. Auntie Lisa. She's in Heaven now"

"Ah. Yeah.. I'm a little sad."

"...Did he die?"

"James! You shouldn't ask such things!" Mary scolded the child, willing him to be silent. "Is he in Heaven?" Asked Lily, moving to sit on John's lap. John swallowed and nodded. "Yeah." Lily hugged him. This man was probably going to be her uncle, she liked him already, but he was so sad. She wanted happy Uncle John back. "Do you miss him?" John nodded. "Everyday."

"What happened?"

"James!"

"I wanna know!"

"...It's alright Mary. A bad man, did a very bad thing, and my friend got hurt and...then he went to Heaven. But he got hurt saving his friends"

"Like a hero?"

"Yes Lily.. exactly like a hero. Now, enough questions. You should listen to your Auntie Mary and hope into bed. Or...the monsters will get you again!" He mimed the claws once more and growled. The two children quickly forgot their questions and pretended to be frightened again, squealing as John chased them to their room.

"You're a natural"

"Nah...you think so?"

"I know so. You just fit into that role so well. You'll make a wonderful father someday John"

"Is that a promise?"

"Absolutely"

He moved to snuggle her on the couch. "Mary...?" She kissed his forehead, holding him close. "I think I'm ready to write about it now." Mary closed her eyes and then opened them. "Are you sure?" He nodded, misty eyes searching for hers. "I promise to be with every step of the way, ok?" John smiled and kissed her cheek.

"That's all I ask"

He still sat on that window seat. Every single day. He barely spoke, never smiled, never laughed. And yet, he didn't seem distressed. He just seemed so sad, lonely, dejected. Mycroft knew that things were not going to be easy for Sherlock. He'd been through something horrific. His body was still recovery from the injuries, Mycroft knew his brother was in constant pain. He only had sketchy details on what his brother had gone through, and what he knew was horrible enough. But... he wanted his brother back.

He wanted the man who pulled pranks on him, teased him about his weight, or his job. He wanted the man who jumped at the chance to solve a mystery. The little boy who yearned for adventure. Of slaying dragons, finding the buried treasure, solving crime, not for justice, just for fun. He wanted his brother back. His Sherlock. Not this...fake, this imperfect facsimile. Something was missing. His personality had changed. Mycroft knew this might happen. He had just prayed his brother would be spared that. The old Sherlock was gone, Mycroft would do anything to get him back.

"You're doing it again" The brother in question whispered, he rarely raised his voice.

"Doing what, exactly?"

"Staring"

"I always stare"

"Yes, I know. But this is a worried stare."

"..You know I worry about you."

"Don't"

"It's not voluntary."

"Try"

"No." Sherlock frowned and bit his lip, his eyes never leaving the night sky.

"Why do you always sit there and watch the stars, Sherlock?"

"Do you know what's its like to see a window for the first time after so long in the darkness? To see light, to see the sky? The stars?...It's like..it's like magic. It's like...you knew something was missing, but you didn't know until you saw it. I missed them Mycroft, I missed the stars. Now..Im just making up for lost time"

It was the longest amount of words he'd spoken since his return. Mycroft cough, trying to get that uncomefrotable feeling out of his throat and no, that was not a tear in his eye. He reached over and picked up a blanket, resting it around his brother's thin shoulders.

"I have to go and make a few phone calls. You'll be alright?"

"No.. but go anyway." Mycroft almost decided against leaving.

"Do give them my love"

"Who?"

"Irene and Molly" Mycroft shook his head smiling and left the room, leaving his brother to his nightly stargazing.

Ill get you back Sherlock, some way or another.

I'll get you back.