Sherlock had returned home, after to visit to his grave, to find a package on his bed, next to a purring Milton. Petting the kitten absent-mindedly, he ripped off the brown paper to find, a violin case. He lifted the lid, removing the beautiful instrument inside. A note fluttered down onto the bed. It was Mycroft, of course, who else?

This is a loan only. I am not sure if you miss yours or not but I thought until you returned to Baker Street that perhaps this one would suffice. Do not break it, scratch it or spill something on it.

And feed the cat.

Mycroft.

Sherlock smiled ever so slightly and fiddled with the instrument until he was satisfied. He then picked up the bow and played a single chord. Milton raised his tiny head, yawning far wide for someone with such a little mouth. He played another note, Milton watching him intently. Soon a beautiful, haunting melody sprouted from the violin as Sherlock played. It felt wonderful to hold a violin in his hands once more. To hear the strings come to life.

Milton agreed, which is why he began to cry and mew to the music.

John never told anyone, but Lily's picture had spawned three interesting if somewhat sad dreams. Of Angel Sherlock. Angelic Sherlock was much like regular Sherlock, though his coat was as white as snow, so where his pants and shirt. His scarf was a brilliant gold. He always seemed to glow. His personality however was just the same. Loud, rude, slightly neurotic for some reason. And then there were the wings. Big, white, magnificent wings, that kept knocking things off shelves and twice, knocking John himself over.

"Would you stop knocking over all my belongings!"

"I am trying!"

"Yes you're very trying."

"Oh, real mature, Watson"

"Learnt from the best, Holmes. Aren't you used to those things by now?"

"No! They keep growing. First they were small. God, if they get any bigger I won't be able to live anywhere. Ha! Live."

"Look, just sit down and...I don't know, curl those things around you or fold them. Just sit down!"

"Fine" He perched on the end of the couch, pulling up his knees and wrapped his arms around them. The wings curled protectively around his body.

"Happy?"

"Ecstatic"

"What do you do all day? And can you stop glowing? I'm going blind"

"I hunt demon's, chase villains, solve stupid mysteries. And I'm not a bloody torch! I can't turn it on and off. I'm not very good at this..angel thing."

"Sound's like you're having fun without me though."

"God no. When can you get here? I'm going nuts! They expect me to be good and polite, all the time. Me, polite!"

"God forbid. And not for a long time I hope Sherlock. Not that I don't miss you, I just, you know, don't plan on dying anytime soon"

"Damn it. Swearing! These people up there that don't want me swearing either."

"Are they all like that?"

"Just the ones I have to hang around with. They're all such morons. Especially this one guy, wears a stupid trench coat and moans to me about his boyfriend. Boring!"

A bracelet on Sherlock's wrist seems to glow brighter several times. The detective sighs and stands up, trying not to knock down John this time.

"I have to go. See you some other time."

"Goodbye Sherlock.."

John never minded those dreams, Sherlock was such a hilarious and awkward angel and it was nice to have a dream where he seemed himself, and not covered in blood, moaning like a zombie. He was dreaming of him less and less though. Maybe that was a good thing. It does not to well to dwell on bad dreams, he thought. It's not forgetting him if I stop dreaming of him. Is it? ...Nah.

With his days rapidly running out, Sherlock had begun to pack discreetly, keeping the suitcase under the bed. If he got to spend even a few days with John then everything would be worth it. Even if he hated him for lying. Which he probably would. Still, Sherlock wouldn't care as long as he had John by his side. In a few days, Lestrade was to be married. Mycroft had been invited to the stag, which Sherlock found slightly amusing. Especially considering how angry John was currently at Mycroft. He was also invited to the wedding. Sherlock intended to attend as well, in disguise of course.

He continued playing, the songs always sad and depressing in nature however. The other's did not fail to notice, but never asked as to why. Sherlock had gone back to being silent. Mycroft could occasionally coax out a few words but that was it. And he knew something was wrong. He knew it had to do with Moriarty. And he was almost certain that it involved a phone. But he couldn't find the blasted thing.

He only hoped that this was a temporary phase and that after catching or more likely, killing, a few more of Moriarty's men and then the man himself, Sherlock could go home. And what a relief that would be. But until then, Mycroft was going to have to think of a way to keep his brother safe and happy. Not an easy task.

Made far worse by the fact that tomorrow he would be attending a stag party that by all rights he had no reason to. Sherlock should be. Yes Mycroft thought of them as friends, but Sherlock knew them better, was closer to them. He should be there, toasting Lestrade, far more likely, to be insulting him and getting blind drunk in the process.

He was going to have to think of something extra special to cheer him up this time. What he didn't know was that someone already was.

NordicExplorer has logged on.

ArmyDoctor has logged on.

NordicExplorer: Are you sure this is a good idea? I have never used an instant messaging site before. Is it safe for the computer?

ArmyDoctor: Of course, trust me it will be fine. No viruses or anything of the sort. I just thought it would be nice to talk one on one for a change. You know, no emails. Instant..like it says on the can.

NordicExplorer: What can?

ArmyDoctor: It's an expression, they mustn't have it in your country.

NordicExplorer: Probably not.

ArmyDoctor: So, how are you? Doing better I hope.

NordicExplorer: Somewhat. Sort of. Not very.

ArmyDoctor: Oh dear. Is there anything I can do?

NordicExplorer: Not unless you can sprout wings and fly across the Channel.

ArmyDoctor: Unfortunately no.

ArmyDoctor: Looking forward to meeting you soon.

NordicExplorer: As am I. It will be nice to stay with someone I know. I have been to London before. The people were not very nice at the hotel I stayed at.

ArmyDoctor: That's too bad. How come?

NordicExplorer: I do not know. They made fun of me.

ArmyDoctor: That's not on. It won't happen here, I promise you. :)

NordicExplorer: Thank you, I am most grateful.

ArmyDoctor: Not a problem. Oh, Mary' home, with a bag load of groceries. She'll kill me if I don't go over and help. Chat to you later?

NordicExplorer: Of course. Would not want you to get in trouble. See you later John.

ArmyDoctor: Bye Normund!

ArmyDoctor has logged off.

Gorgeous_In_Westwood has logged on.

Gorgeous_In_Westwood: How come I never get invited to these things. ;_;

a/n: sorry if typos or spelling mistakes, typing with two fingers, rest of hand/hands and fingers suffering from extreme ezcema and one finger has a cut on it.