When Mycroft woke up, he kept his eyes tightly closed. He could smell the long forgotten familiar scent of soap and liquorice and citrussy aftershave that was Nick's smell. He could feel the soft breaths on his arm; feel the liberal covering of soft furry hair on Nick's chest. Mycroft knew if he opened his eyes he would just see more things that would end up breaking his heart. And he knew it was a heart that had been badly repaired over the years. Like an old vase. You could glue it back together, but if you smashed it again it would break around the breaks and be destroyed. However Mycroft also knew that sometimes you just had to let it break anyway. He opened his eyes, smiling briefly at the memory of making love with Nick in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Nick rolled over, beaming him one of those cheeky smiles. Mycroft felt his heart creak a little.
The telephone on the bedside table was ringing. Nick answered it, reaching an arm out from under Mycroft.
"Dr. Garrideb." He paused and listened, the smile disappearing from his face. "Yes, of course Inspector, I'll be right there." There was silence for a few moments before Nick spoke again.
"That was Inspector LeStrade. The Five Pips Bomber has taken another hostage. He wonders if you'd be able to help?"
"Me?"
"Yes. You. That deductive head of yours. They're sure they must have missed something. They need a genius." Sherlock always said Mycroft's powers of reasoning were far greater than his own, usually said in conjunction with a sly comment about his weight and it being proportional. And Sherlock wasn't here.
"I know who it is. It's a man who works in the IT department called Jim. He's using some sort of alias but his real name is James Moriarty. He's a self styled master criminal."
"And how do you know that?"
"Because he's done it before. And somehow, he's being allowed to do it again." Mycroft looked at the expression on Nick's face. Looking for that flicker that said he thought Mycroft was crazy. Only it wasn't there. Just that same look that said I want to spend the rest of my life with you.
"Okay. I'll let LeStrade know."
"No don't do that. Get dressed. We have to go somewhere."
"Where?" Nick was pulling on his jeans.
"The swimming pool where Sherlock died."