Sherlock took quite a while to inform John about the Sikh Warrior who was sent in regards to the Jaria Diamond case. He delayed telling his friend about the situation straight away as he was in a mood after having a row with a chip and pin machine. Seeing John's left fist open and close as it did whenever he was experiencing stress or pushing down his rage, it didn't really feel like the right time to mention that a trained fighter had just broken in resulting in the detective utilising his Bartitsu and ultimately sending them a message.

He also failed to mention the assassin in Soo Lin's flat soon after, that one was just embarrassing. He realised his mistake though after John and Sarah were kidnapped by the Black Lotus and that's when he made a note in his hard drive that a bit of warning when he was being followed never went astray. Better John go off on one of his rants on 'safety' and 'not baiting criminals' than being taken. Again. Truth be told he was still getting used to working with someone and having them around on a regular basis.

Even though he meant to communicate more swiftly on these matters he ended up delaying mentioning the next three times after that that an assailant was after him. There was that one time in an alley with a thief he was pursuing, another time in a park about a racketeering group and the final one near the Diogenes. The last didn't end well for the assassin when four men in black suits bundled him away in the back on a non-descript van about thirty seconds after he had started wrestling with the consulting detective.

Five minutes later the younger Holmes stepped into the Strangers Room at the Diogenes and closed the door. He'd waited until his breathing had returned to normal and he'd had a chance to straighten his clothes and make sure he wasn't bleeding before going in. Looking over he saw his idle brother turning a page in some notes without looking up. Sherlock sighed, tugging off his scarf before placing it on a coat rack. "Well don't get up" he tutted, tugging of his gloves, his brother's laziness was such a waste.

The seated one continued to ensure the file was in order. "Third attempt on your life in as many months" he noted casually, with an air of discussing sporting statistics. "You may end up surpassing my 2009 tally, although I believe I would still win due to the exotic mix of nations that attempted to bring about my demise that particular year". He finally gazed over and gave a painfully tight grimace that did nothing to endear him to the other. "Do sit down" he instructed, indicating to an armchair opposite him "we have much to discuss".

Sherlock paused, not wanting to be told what to do but then decided to move across and be seated. "I was fine by the way, you didn't need to send in your drones" he tried to sound uncaring but it came across more like he was convincing himself that he wasn't in any real danger.

Amusement flashed on the elder man's features before it was pushed aside. "Yes, I could tell by the way your face was turning a dark shade as your air supply was cut off and the way your eyes were beginning to roll back that you had it completely under control". He then nodded to himself. "But I must thank you for drawing out Jerry Watkins, we've been after him for weeks. Knew he was in London, just a matter of time" he held up the file, as he did so Sherlock tried to hide the bright interest he held for it from his gaze but failed. "Let's consider this your reward, shall we?"

"Just get on with it, Mycroft" he snapped, trying to sound more frustrated than pleading "you should be thankful I made my way down here, should have made you go to Baker Street for the exercise"

"Interesting problem, this" he began, knowing he had one the game as soon as the body jibes began. "The notes start as far back as fifteen years ago..."

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