Author's Note:

If you thought the last chapter was cute, wait until eight...things get super cute, or at least I think so. So excited, but you'll just have to wait. Also, Mycroft is creepy this chapter... Thanks for all the reviews and subscriptions!

Mycroft felt his phone go off and smirked slightly, glancing at the text and shifting his gaze out the window of his car.

Already outside, dear brother. Clean up and head down. -MH

He shifted in the seat of the car to put his phone back in his pocket

Sherlock snorted as he read the message. Of course he was. He freshened up a bit and ended up having to lock Hamish in his room so the kitten wouldn't try to leave with him. Knowing Hamish, the room would be a bloody mess when he got back. He walked downstairs, out of the flat and slid into the waiting car. "Spying on me now, Mycroft?" He flashed a smirk to his older brother.

"Of course," Mycroft replied steadily, raising a brow before the car lurched forward. "John good with words, then?" He smirked and turned his gaze out of his own window, lowering his head and clearing his throat. "Talk? You are actually willing to talk? This must be a first between the two of us." The car slid to a stop and Mycroft opened the door and stood elegantly outside the Chinese restaurant John had mentioned during he and Sherlock's video call.

"John may be good with words, but apparently you like to watch." Sherlock replied, the smirk only getting bigger. "You know then, about John and I being engaged." He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation. He looked away from Mycroft and out the window. "I figure if you are going to be my best man, we could at least be civil." He got out of the car once it came to stop, as he finally looked back over to his older brother.

Mycroft bowed his head slightly at Sherlock's words before nodding a bit. "Yes. Congratulations. Honestly. You two will be very good for each other once he gets back." He opened the door to the Chinese restaurant and glanced back at Sherlock. "I am being completely civil, Sherlock. And I would very much enjoy being your best man." For a moments Mycroft's gaze was serious before he turned around to enter the restaurant. He was ready to talk, wanted to hear what Sherlock had to say, and he was clearly excited for their dinner. A table was already reserved and Mycroft made himself comfortable in a chair right away.

Sherlock merely nodded as he walked into the Chinese restaurant. He took the seat facing the door, an old habit of his. Without needing to look at the menu, he ordered his food in Chinese. He was quiet a bit after that. He wasn't used to talking to Mycroft about anything really. "Know of a good jeweler, in particular a silver specialist? Thinking of getting John and I matching bands, with our names on them. Then we'd wear the other's name. Bet you'd never thought I'd grow up or be sentimental." A small smile tugged at his lips and then he shrugged. "Well, neither did I...he's changed me in a lot of ways, I guess."

"I can get that done." Mycroft ordered his food with a tight smile before looking back at Sherlock. It was true, really. John had changed Sherlock in such an amazing way. Even when they first met Sherlock seemed to pick up when certain things shouldn't be said. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a Manila folder, sliding it across the table. "More pictures. The blood he's covered in isn't his." Mycroft met his brother's eyes for a long moment. "Will the ceremony be right after he gets back, then?"

A brief look of surprise crossed Sherlock's features when Mycroft said he would get the matching rings made. He took the folder with a nod of thanks. He would look through the pictures later. "I'm not sure. Maybe. Probably something I should discuss with John first. Don't want it be a big deal though…something simple." Their food came and he ate it with chopsticks. "I'm sure mum will make a fuss about everything though. Dad will probably be too busy with military things to even notice or care. Now if his golden boy was getting married, he'd probably throw a parade." There wasn't anger or resentment in his voice, but he supposed that since childhood things had always been strained between them because one parent clearly favored a child and they were constantly striving to gain approval from the other. Ah, sibling rivalry. Mycroft seemed ready to let go, and maybe he could too in time.

Mycroft smirked and took a small bite of food. "Well, who can argue? I didn't want to grow up and be a pirate," he muttered behind his hand, hiding the fact that there was still food in his mouth. He smiled in amusement as he lowered his hand. Their Mum would make quite the fuss indeed. She had asked him constantly what this John Watson character was like, he just hadn't told Sherlock that. "He will want time to rest, no doubt. That man won't get much sleep once he transfers to Camp Bastion next week." He set his chopsticks down and folded his hands on the table. He kept his gaze lowered for a long moment before lifting it to study Sherlock. "It's been two months since... everything, really. He hasn't seen Sarah again, has he?" His gaze was serious, worried. This relationship meant so much to Sherlock and he didn't want his younger brother to get hurt again.

Sherlock didn't even bother to hide the cringe at the mention of Sarah's name. "I don't think so, no. It's not like I asked him every day or anything. 'Oh by the way, have things gotten too stressful for you that you had to go shag Sarah?' They still text. Well, she texts him but he doesn't always reply. I don't think John realizes I know, but I do. It's hard to hide things from someone who pretty much notices everything. I'm surprised you don't know, with all your spying and cameras." He smirked faintly as he put a mouthful of noodles in his mouth.

"I don't track his phone," Mycroft stated calmly as he took another bite of food, returning Sherlock's smirk. "He hasn't seen her, I can tell you that. Not for her lack of trying. He's rather committed to you. It's very endearing." He straightened again in his chair. "Besides, he's got you to shag now. He feels something with you, it's more than just stress. With her that's all it was." He shrugged and smiled tightly as a glass of wine was set down in front of him. After a long sip and a low hum of delight, Mycroft glanced at his phone. "Do you love him?"

"Yes." Sherlock replied simply and without a hint of hesitation. He waved his hand as wine was offered to him, content with his glass of water. "Is that what happened between you and the Detective Inspector? Just a stress reliever? Not really love?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly, as he took another bite of food.

"Quite," Mycroft stated simply, taking another sip of wine with his gaze locked on Sherlock. "There was never really anything there. We'd have dinner, talk, go to his flat." He shrugged. It had been an understanding and after a while Lestrade had told him he couldn't do it anymore. They were both too busy to have a healthy relationship and the Inspector had mentioned his feelings for Molly. "It wasn't fair for me to just hold him back, was it? He's got a lot to offer to Miss Hooper." He swallowed hard and lowered his gaze. "Are you worried about him over there?" The question was low and Mycroft didn't bother to look up at his brother.

"Ah." Sherlock replied, quite certain his older brother had actually cared about Lestrade but it hadn't been reciprocated. He might have to find a childish reason to punch the Detective Inspector in the face at a later date. He kept his thoughts to himself and nodded once at the question. "Constantly. Talking to him on the phone and on Skype helps a bit. Of course the photos you give me do as well. Thank you for that, by the way."

"Oh, it isn't a problem. They might be a bit harder to get when he's at Camp Bastion. Kandahar was merely a holding base for his Company before they were sent out. I'll still get them though." Mycroft took a deep breath and smiled. It was genuine and warm. "He told me before he left that he was coming back. His eyes were so set. He meant it. He's coming back for you, Sherlock. You get upset when he abruptly ends calls but just know that you mean the world to him." He finished his glass of wine and motioned toward the folder full of pictures. "They're mostly of him on patrol. The last few are of him treating a soldier. No shirtless ones this time, I'm afraid."

"Yes well, the problem with knowing everything is I've already thought of every single possible thing that could go wrong and on multiple occasions. It's hard not to worry. He's a good soldier, I know that. Things go wrong though. I have to prepare myself for that. Hope for the best but expect the worse." Sherlock's tone was surprisingly calm. He let a small smirk etch his lips, "Not that I'm complaining but John would probably prefer it if he was clothed when the pictures were taken. He's modest and shy about such things. In fact, if he ever found out you were listening on the Skype call; he'd probably be too embarrassed to ever do it again. Can't let that happen, now can we?" The smirk broadened, as he looked up to Mycroft.

Mycroft listened to Sherlock with a small frown. It was true. John was a great soldier but anything could happen out there, things that nobody could stop, and Sherlock was trying to make sure that if anything did happen, he might try to brace himself for it. He laughed and shook his head. "I wouldn't want to take that away from you two. We'll make sure he doesn't find out. As for the pictures, he may hate it but you love it. Trust me, he's going to look much better in about a month. Those are shirtless pictures you'll want." It seemed like the two of them had settled into the conversation, something new but very exciting for them both. Mycroft couldn't complain because he was getting Sherlock to talk, something he hoped would put him at ease, if only for a small period of time.

Sherlock finished off his plate of food and shrugged a bit. "To be honest, John's physique isn't my attraction to him. In fact, it's something I barely notice. Don't get me wrong, he looks bloody fantastic without clothes on but it just isn't something important to me, I guess would be the way to put it." He shrugged again and gave the empty plate to the waiter. He pushed the chair away, so he could stretch out his legs under the table, hands coming to rest on his stomach.

"Understandable." Mycroft took another bite of his meal before aimlessly pushing some of the food around his plate. "I'll be happy to inform Captain Watson that you actually ate an entire meal. He'll be happy to hear that, I'm sure." He watched his wine glass get refilled and glanced at Sherlock. "What is it, then?" He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, mirroring Sherlock's position as he sat back and folded his hands across his midsection. "Why is John attractive to you?" It was more about picking Sherlock's mind now, figuring out how one person could change his brother so fast in such an amazing way.

Sherlock smirked a bit. "Yes. He is constantly bugging me to eat and sleep more." He fell silent for a few moments as he contemplated Mycroft's question. "Since the day we have met, he's always had my back. He's been there for me in a way no one else ever has. He never thought I was a freak, but actually found me to be brilliant. Despite my unorthodox way of seeing the world, he still put up with me. Even when I pushed him away with my childish fits, he always came back. Despite his infraction with Sarah, he's fiercely loyal. He'd die for me Mycroft…" He trailed off, shifting a bit in his chair as emotion suddenly gripped him.

The amount of emotion in Sherlock's voice made Mycroft's chest tighten and he had to drop his head to take a deep breath. "Here. For when you get home." He reached into his jacket and slid a piece of paper across the table. "From John. He knew you'd still forget to mail his letter." The smirk on Mycroft's lips was threatening to split due to laughter. "You may be the genius but John has you figured out. He wanted me to ask you. Just in case." He picked up his cell phone and clicked several buttons before sliding it toward Sherlock as well. "A video for you." He hit play.

John was standing proudly in the middle of a circle of men in the middle of the Afghan desert in his camouflage pants, his shirt off as a young man approached him. The two shook hands and another soldier shouted something off camera. The younger soldier tensed, hands up, while John stood fully and tilted his head to either side. He jumped three times on his toes before rushing forward, his shoulder hitting the younger man right below the ribs. They both hit the ground in a tumble of dirt and dust. After several moments John stood, shaking his head and raising a fist into the air with laughter. He walked toward the camera and grinned. "That's for you, Sherlock." He winked and the video ended.

"He wants me to keep you up to date on his everyday life. It's easy for him to get the stuff sent straight to me since you'll be out. He figured these dinners would be a normal thing," Mycroft paused, "Which I hope they will be. We've got nine months."

Sherlock took the note and placed it inside the folder with the pictures. He smirked a bit, "I'm going to mail the letter in the morning. You act like it's been a week since I wrote it. It's only been a day." He watched the video, a smirk on his lips. "Such a show off John," he mused out loud. "You two are conspiring against me to make sure I spend time with my older brother." It was merely an observation, not an accusation. "Maybe. Depends on how busy I get with cases. You know how I get once I focus only on solving a crime. The latest case is a bit boring for my tastes, so I'm not chasing it with my usual fervor but it does give me something to do."

"I could get you more cases," Mycroft stated in a bored tone. "Greg isn't the only one with dead people on his hands." He reached across the table to claim his cell phone, setting it on his side of the table carelessly. "Mail it. He won't be able to call or video chat for a week. It's for sure this time. He'll need the boost. He's going on patrol and they're traveling far." There was a pause in the conversation as a pot of tea and two cups was set in front of them. "And we're both working to make sure you get out of the flat." He poured them each a cup of tea. "And you take care of yourself." Mycroft closed his eyes as he took a sip of tea. "In three months we might be able to get you out there to see him. We'll have you there under the pretense of a case." He glanced at his brother over the rim of his cup. "If you want to go, that is."

Sherlock's eyebrows raised in interest when Mycroft mentioned the possibility of other cases, but his demeanor quickly changed. Okay, enough. He was damn near feeling smothered. "You do know I lived on my own before and I did just fine, right? All this trying to take care of me and holding my hand is irritating. I hate it. It doesn't suit me. I know I've changed in some ways, but I'm still stubborn and independent individual. I need my space and time alone still." He picked up the tea and was about to take a sip when his older brother mentioned the possibility of going over to see John. "Yes. Of course, I would."

Mycroft ignored his brother with a cool disposition. "Three months. You can go see him, you'll be there for two days. He will be able to stay with you in a hotel." He smiled softly and moved to stand up. "I'll get more information for you as it comes in. I no longer want to be smothering you." He grabbed his phone and tightly smiled at his younger brother. "Same time next week? I'll bring the pictures." He didn't wait around for an answer, sliding the money on to the table for both of their meals before turning toward the door. "Come now, Sherlock. Don't want you walking home in the dark."

Sherlock nodded, wondering how to make three months go by quickly. Work. He would have to rely on work, even if was something boring. Damn Mycroft for not giving the fight he was still looking for. Oh good, a weekly thing. Not something to be expected daily. The consulting detective could deal with that. He snorted at his brother's last comment, but got up from the table and picked up the folder. He brushed by Mycroft and out the door without saying a word.

Mycroft watched his younger brother with amusement, grinning as he followed him and slid into the waiting black car. "I will not fight with you, Sherlock." He licked his lips and shifted in the seat as the car started to move. "Argue with that blasted cat if you really need to. Greg nor I will pick a fight with you." another knowing glance was cast at Sherlock as the car stopped in front of his flat. "Go enjoy your pictures. He's texting you tonight." With that Mycroft turned his attention to his cell phone.

Sherlock merely pouted the short ride home, staring out the window and refusing to look at his brother. He got out and slammed the car door shut. Maybe Mycroft wouldn't give him the fight he was looking for but he knew with certainty he could get under Lestrade's nerves with a little work. He entered the flat and went up the stairs immediately, so he wouldn't be forced to make small talk with Mrs. Hudson. He wasn't in the mood. He ignored the howling and scratching at his bedroom door. The kitten could be miserable with him. Perhaps John could cheer him up once more. While waiting for the army doctor to text him, he sat down the kitchen table and opened the letter.

Sherlock,

I wrote you two notes because I plan ahead. I know you, that note you wrote is still sitting on the table and you're sending it "soon."

I can't wait to read it.

I love you.

John

It was simple, very John-like. And as if everything was planned, John sent a text in sync with the opening of the letter.

Ever had to shower in hot water while it's really hot outside? -JW

It was simple but John was trying to distract himself. He was too sticky already to do much else but lie in his bed in his boxers and hold the cell phone Mycroft gave him above his face waiting for a reply.

Sherlock had heard his cell phone go off, but he read the letter first. It didn't take long to read it, a smirk on his lips. He opened the text message and read it. He hit the reply button and typed out a response quickly.

No. Why not take a cold shower instead? I read your second letter. I will make sure my letter to you will be in the outgoing mail tonight before bed so it can be picked up in the morning. -SH

John snorted and read the text again with a shake of his head.

Cold water doesn't exist here. I'm laying in my bed in my boxers trying to cool off. I miss the air conditioning in the flat. -JW

He hit send and jumped up slightly to press his back against the wall beside his bed, groaning in appreciation of the cold feeling on his back.

Can't wait to read your letter. -JW

The second text was sent and John let his eyes close, relaxing as the cooling sensation faded away and his body heat slowly increased the temperature of the wall.

Sherlock was about t reply when the second text came through. He smiled a little, even though Hamish was yowling rather loudly at being ignored.

I could give you an easy and detailed way to make sure the water is cool before using it, but I doubt you'd have the time. -SH

After the message was sent, he got up from the kitchen table and walked to the desk in he living room. He began composing a second letter while waiting for John's reply.

I might be able to find the time if it means a few minutes of relief. -JW

John hit send and shifted on the bed as a gust of wind came in through the window.

You can't even get clean here. You shower and two minutes later you're covered in dirt again. -JW

He knew he was sending multiple texts but he didn't care. He was communicating with Sherlock and he was excited. Right now, Sherlock was really all that mattered in his head.

The phone went off twice and Sherlock quickly finished the sentence he was writing before reading the messages and typing out a reply.

Well, are you taking the showers at night and not day? It matters if you are really interested in trying to have a cooler shower because the process would be different depending on the time of day. -SH

After hitting send, he sent another quick message, a smirk on his lips. Two could play that game.

I know I keep saying this, but I miss you terribly. -SH

John let the phone vibrate twice before reading both of the texts. Of course. Even now Sherlock would be himself and start something like sending two texts.

Usually around 3 in the morning. Different today because I didn't go on patrol. So 3am. What can I do? -JW

He waited for a moment before starting his second reply. If Sherlock wanted to play then he would gladly keep the game going.

I know. I miss you too. Miss curling against you at night. –JW

Sherlock smirked a bit. Oh it was so on.

3am? Approximately what time does the sunset and rise there? Don't you dare say anything about my lack of knowledge on something so trivial. We already had this discussion when you felt the need to blog about how I didn't know anything about the solar system. -SH

The smirk got bigger, his fingers typing out another message rapidly.

I miss not just cuddling, but running my fingers through your hair. Scratching you. Making you call out my name. Really, you are noisy enough for both of us. –SH

Six thirty in the morning or so. Usually asleep by then. Why all the questions? How do I college off my water? -JW

John opened the second text and closed his eyes for a long moment. Sherlock was messing with him. The distraction, no matter how childish and on its way to sexual, was welcome.

I might be loud enough for the two of us but the last time I gave you a blow job you did shout my name. Besides, it's hard to stay quiet when your pounding into me so hard we break the headboard at some cottage in Scotland. –JW

Sherlock smirked yet again as he noticed the lapse in time between messages.

The questions are important. Do you want to know the process or not? -SH

He didn't wait to send the next reply, fingers moving fluidly over the keys.

You weren't complaining at the time. You know I like it rough. Biting, scratching and licking you all over so that you are covered with bruises everywhere. –SH

John replied quickly, frustrated with the heat surrounding him.

Yes! Please! Now would be great. –JW

The next text made him swallow hard, taking a shaky breath as he slowly replied. It was getting hard to not get excited. The time between the first and second text message increased yet again.

It is a two way street. I shag you slow, drag it out until you're thrashing against me and trying not to beg. -JW

He slid back to lay on his bed again, trying not to think about Sherlock above him, marking him.

Sherlock had certainly won this time around, he was certain.

You'll be screaming that a lot in three months. -SH

Once more he didn't hesitate between texts.

That may be, but you know you love it when I leave teeth marks on your shoulder and claw marks on your back. Ramming you so hard, you can barely walk the next day. -SH

John closed his eyes with a loud sigh, holding the phone against his stomach. This wasn't how he planned their conversation going but with a rueful smile he decided that he would fight back.

Fuck, Sherlock, I love that. I love when I'm below you and you are pounding into me. I can't wait to see you and suck you off right against the door of the hotel the moment I walk in. I can't wait to have you inside me. -JW

He hit send with a cocky smile, his hips lifting lightly off his bed as he realized he was achingly hard after their conversation.

With a smirk, Sherlock replied, squirming in his chair.

And that was pretty much how the next three months went by. Sherlock and John would text, write, Skype, and talk on the phone. Hamish finally grew, no longer a small kitten. Mrs. Hudson had agreed to take care of the black kitten while he was away. She was the only one, other than Sherlock that the kitten was remotely warm to. Everyone else, he would bite and hiss should they try to give him any kind of attention.

Sherlock and Mycroft had a standing weekly reservation at the Chinese restaurant. The consulting detective solved the case for Lestrade, after two more bodies were found and a killing pattern had been established. In the moments he was alone, he would talk to Hamish or played his violin. The time went by faster than he thought it would and he managed to stay off the drugs, even cigarettes. From time to time he still relied on the patches to help him think, but otherwise he had stayed clean.

The next three months for John were nothing but routine. He had been relocated to Camp Bastion and did constant day to night patrols.

Contact with Sherlock was what kept him going. The promise of seeing him or just texting him, reading a letter, it pulled him back to base when he thought his legs would give out and his bag was suddenly too heavy. He had kept his promise to Sherlock and had avoided sleeping with anybody on base, taking care of himself in the constantly warm water or while Skyping with Sherlock.