He leaned back into the leather seat and brought up his knees, wrapping his thin arms around them. He shivered, his hoodie only supplied him with a limited amount of warmth. The cabbie turned a corner heading home, he was in Mycroft's employ of course. Too many cabbies, read two, had tried to kill Sherlock, so his brother thought it best to bring home his brother in a cab he could trust.

Sherlock allowed the ghost of a smile to fill his lips. He'd seen John. And not from afar either but face to face. Not all of Basil's smiles had been mere acting. Just seeing John had brought them to his face. Seeing John had made him feel happy for the first time in months. But it was a bittersweet sort of happiness. Who knew the next time they would meet? If they ever would again? And would things ever be the same as they once were? John had Mary. Maybe he didn't need a best friend anymore.

Sherlock's face fell once more, he rested his chin on the tops of his knees and removed his glasses. John hadn't forgotten him, he still cared about him but he'd moved on. John was happy now, not sad like before. Who was Sherlock to ruin that happiness? Yes John didn't hate him, but he would one day. He would be positively livid the day Sherlock revealed he was alive. They all would. The detective was sure of it. Maybe he shouldn't reveal himself. Maybe, since everyone else was moving on, so should he. He could get a new flat, start solving crimes and mysteries for Mycroft perhaps. He wouldn't be happy about it but he couldn't deduce his old friends reactions. And that scared him.

John might not even want to be his friend if he came back. The horrible thought suddenly striking the increasingly miserable detective, who was coming down from the high of seeing his best friend after so many, many months. John would be angry and upset but that wasn't what worried Sherlock. It was the fact that he had changed and that John may not be able to handle this. He might hate the new Sherlock. No, that was foolish, John didn't really hate that easily. But John had changed too.

Mycroft could hear the sound of a car approaching and gestured for the others to stop decorating and sit back down as if nothing had changed. The three waited silently for Sherlock's reaction. The door gently opened, revealing the shivering figure behind. The detective's quick eyes scanned the room, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly at the sight of the Christmas decorations. Molly seemed barely able to contain her smile, or herself.

"Do you like it?"

"...It's...it's...interesting. Thank you" The comment and lack of reaction seemed to put a damper on everyone else's mood. Sherlock moved towards his bed and kicked off his shoes, falling onto the bed face first. Mycroft sighed and ushered the two protesting women out of the room. Taking a deep breath in preparation for everything that might follow, he crept towards his brother, armed with a blanket, which he placed over the still shivering detective.

"Sherlock?"

"Mmmph"

"Yes, very eloquent. Are you alright?"

Sherlock turned his head toward's Mycroft. "What do you think?" Rude..that was a start. But was it Sherlock rude or simply his emotions running rapid after seeing his best friend after almost a year? "I don't know, that's why I'm asking" He sat on the edge of the bed, close to Sherlock, who promptly turned his head the other way. "Sherlock...". A sob slipped out of his brother's throat, his body turning on it's side to curl inwards. "I saw him Mycroft.. I saw him. He was...happy. He's in love. He wasn't supposed to fall in love. Things weren't supposed to change that much. But they have and he has and I have most of all."

Mycroft placed his hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "Calm down. Why don't you tell me how things went?" At first Sherlock wanted no desire to, but as if was only because of Mycroft that he'd been allowed to see him, he relented. "It was great. I saw him, he smiled at me, I smiled at him, I.. I couldn't help myself. It's been almost twelve months since I saw John. I couldn't believe we were really face to face" Mycroft's hand began to rub his shoulder in a comforting gesture. "What did he have to say?"

"Oh, just hello, how are you, thanks for coming. I got to spend some time alone without..Mary. I found it hard to stay in character. It was a good thing it was dark. He might have recognised me."

"She's a nice girl you know" Jealous much?

"I don't have to like her.." She took John away. Sure he was being childish, but who cared?

Mycroft allowed himself a small smile.

"Were you happy to see him again?"

"..Of course!..I missed him, I still miss him and he misses me. He doesn't hate me! John hasn't forgotten me!"

"Of course he hasn't, I told you the very idea was preposterous."

"Yes but... you aren't John...I needed to hear it from his lips."

"Does that mean you will stop worrying about it now?" Please say yes.

"Probably not." Mycroft hmmed, sighed and looked at his watch. "How do you feel?"

"Happy, sad, excited, jittery, anxious, confused..can a person really feel all those things at once? I'm surprised I haven't exploded!"

"Yes well some of us don't have the emotional range of a teaspoon."

"A tea..what?" Mycroft's lips curled and was very pleased to see Sherlock's curl also. His brother may still remained changed but so long as he was happy now and then, that would do Mycroft. At least for the moment. The sarcasm and wit they could work on later.

"How long do you intend to sulk by the way? I ask only because tea is almost ready."

"For five more minutes."

"Hmm, do apologise to the girls, they put so much work into decorating the place"

"I know it was your idea Mycroft, though I'm not sure why. You..god you blame yourself don't you..?" Sherlock sat upright suddenly as the thought came to him, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders protectively, Mycroft's silence proved him right. "You blame yourself, but for what? I thought you knew I forgave you.."

"You are changed, dear brother and not for the better. This is my fault and I accept it. So I intend to do everything I can to make things right.."

"It wasn't your fault..Mycroft, really I'm..I'm fine"

"You are not. You have lost yourself and you know this"

"..." Mycroft was right, hadn't he just been worrying about this? But still, it wasn't Mycroft's fault..was he really that dense?

"Maybe I have but I don't blame you, but thank you, for trying to cheer me up." And I think thats enough emotional situations for one day, thought Sherlock as he stood, leaving the room, the blanket still wrapped around him. Mycroft disagreed but followed his brother out of the room, they were both starving.

"Your hair is ridiculous"