Sherlock walked to the street, step by step. All the way he resisted the urge to look back, to return home, to kiss John... but he didn't. He kept walking, not looking back until 221B was kilometers away.

John slid down the wall, until he was sitting down. His head was in his hands. He was sobbing. He couldn't stop. Sherlock was gone and there was a chance he wasn't coming back.

Sherlock stared out of the taxi window, not really seeing anything. He couldn't stop thinking about John, about Moriarty, even about his brother… He closed his eyes for a second, trying to get his ideas organized. He could do this. And he will. No matter how hard it would be not having John by his side this time, he thought as he paid the cabbie and entered the Diogenes Club.

John took in a shuddering breath. It was several hours since Sherlock had left. He debated on texting Lestrade or even Mycroft because he didn't know if he could make last without him. He slowly stood up, gripping the wall. Gods, he felt weak, even ill now. He had to get his mind straight, he had to calm down. Sherlock would be okay. Sherlock would return home.

It was the first afternoon after he left when Sherlock send the first text to John. He spend five whole minutes to get it done.

I am staying at Mycroft's tonight. No need to worry about me until tomorrow. I can't tell you where Moriarty is (Mycroft says its confidential), but I can tell you that he is not very far from here. I promise you that I'll try to remember to eat and sleep. Good night, John. I love you -SH

John looked at the text. He hadn't left the flat since Sherlock left. Mrs. Hudson made sure to remind John to eat. It was harder then he thought. John closed his eyes, reminding himself to calm down. This meant Sherlock was alive. Sherlock was safe for now. He wanted to go straight to Mycroft's to see him, but he knew he would ruin everything. He rubbed his leg without noticing it and sent back a text.

Thank you. I prayed that you are safe. Please, Sherlock. you know I love you. I just want. No I need you safe. I just want this to be over with. Please remember to eat and sleep. You have to be on alert with him. I love you so much. JW

Sherlock read the text immediately, smiling stupidly to his phone.

Don't pray, John, it doesn't work. I promise I'll try to be as safe as possible. Don't worry about that, Mycroft's controls me constantly. He is so annoying. I need you safe too, so don't do something stupid like coming here. I know you have thought about it. I'll text you tomorrow. I love you, John –SH

Sherlock left his phone in his bedside table, laying down onto the soft bed, which seemed to big and cold without John in it. Shutting down his mind, he tried to sleep, knowing that tomorrow he would need energy.

John smiled at his phone. He sighed as he set the mug of tea down.

Good night, Sherlock. I love you. - JW

He shoved the phone in his pocket, standing up. He rubbed his leg again, sighing. He didn't need Sherlock to see him in the state he was. He needed to get out of the flat. It suddenly felt too small. He shrugged a jacket on, telling Mrs. Hudson he was going for a short walk and left the flat. He only planned to be gone for a few minutes, not long enough to do anything, but enough to calm his mind.

The next morning, Sherlock woke up with a start. It seemed Mycroft liked to listen to Bach at six o'clock in the morning. For once, he understood John. Shrugging on his dressing gown, he walked to the kitchen to find his brother drinking tea and reading the newspaper.

"Is there another war yet?", he asked, making himself a cup… witch reminded him of John immediately.

"Be careful, brother, you are not used to making tea for yourself. It can become a… complex task for beginners", he replied, not even glancing up at him. Sherlock rolled his eyes. This would be really hard.

John woke up the next morning sore. He had walked more then he intended, but he found himself exhausted and able to sleep when he returned. It was early, so he rolled back over and tried to sleep. The bed felt empty without Sherlock.

"Get ready, brother. We have a crime to commit", Mycroft added, while Sherlock forced the tea down his throat. He grunted in response, standing up and going to his room. In less than 15 minutes they were at the airport. Moriarty was in a little town in Liverpool this week. They had to get him before he changed of place.

On my way now. The game is on. I love you –SH

John read the text as he stepped outside of the bathroom. He had just gotten out of the shower and had a towel around his waist. He read the text and felt his legs weaken. He had to lean against the wall. He swallowed hard as he typed out a quick reply.

Be safe. I love you. - JW

Mycroft was telling Sherlock Moriarty's timetable when the flight started. Sherlock grimaced slightly, not used to the strange feeling in his stomach. He hated planes. And he hated not being able to contact with John.

"Sherlock, listen to me. John's safely depends on this. Stop thinking about him", Mycroft said suddenly. Sherlock simply nodded, listening carefully to his instructions.

John set the phone down. He rubbed his eyes. Gods, this was harder then he knew. He needed a distraction. Reading and walking wasn't going to help. He needed to get out of the flat. He sighed heavily. He didn't have many friends outside of Sherlock and strangely he liked that. He sent Lestrade a text, wondering if the older detective was free.

Greg, you free for a drink? I need a distraction right now. JW

It was almost 12 AM when Sherlock, Mycroft and all of his brother's people arrived at Liverpool's airport. Like most of them, it smelt like bag leather, oil and too much population. They got their luggage and climbed into one of Mycroft's black cars, getting to the hotel.

I'm here already. Safe and sound. What are you doing? I need some distraction from Mycroft. I love you –SH

John looked down at his phone. He was at a pub. Lestrade had to go back home, something about his ex-wife. He was grateful Lestrade left work early to have a drink with him. He was a good distraction, but now that he was alone it bothered him.

At the pub. Greg just left, something about his ex-wife. I love you. How is everything? What's Mycroft doing? - JW

Lestrade ex wife wants to recover their relationship because the PI teacher broke up with her. Everything is so boring here, John, I wish you were here. Mycroft is… well, being himself. He is making me memorize a million irrelevant details. Remember I love you –SH

Sherlock got the phone to his pocket before Mycroft got it away from him. Fortunately, they had two separates room in the hotel.

John smiled at his phone. He downed the rest of the drink, coughing as it went down. He was close to being drunk. He knew he should return to the flat soon.

How did you-you know what, never mind. I don't need to know how you know that. I know everything is boring, Sherlock, but it's almost over. And just pay attention to Mycroft, he could help you. Help us. I love you. And be nice to him-he doesn't have to help you. - JW

Of course he does, he is my brother. What else does he exist for? I'll try to listen to him, but just because you told me to. I love you. And return home, John, don't get drunk. We both know you'll have a headache tomorrow otherwise –SH

Sherlock send the text from his hotel room. He was sitting on the bed, the laptop balancing on his legs. His phone beeped suddenly… it was Mycroft again. Well, let the show begin.

I can already feel one forming, to be honest. I don't want to go back home. I rather wait for you somewhere else. It isn't right without you. I love you. - JW

John sighed heavily. Sherlock was right. He had to return home sooner or later. It was already late at night. He stood up, nearly stumbling. He rubbed at his leg and shuffled towards the door, already had payed the bill. He found himself walking along the streets of London, not returning to the flat yet.

John, return home right now. You want me save, but I want you save too. And wandering around London drunk is not the best way to begin our little separation. Text me when you get home. If you don't, I'll send one of Mycroft's girls to take you home. Please, John. I love you –SH

Sherlock cursed silently. Moriarty could have a man controlling John right now and the drunk doctor wouldn't even realize it. But he had other tasks at hand.

John sighed as he read the text. Yes, Sherlock was right. He was being stupid. He supposed he could make himself something eat to soothe his upset stomach and try to sleep the drunkenness off. He stumbled towards the front door, unlocking it and stumbling inside. He shut it behind him, sighing at the emptiness.

I'm home. I'm sorry for worrying you. Focus on task at hand. I love you. - JW

Thank you. I'm going to talk to Moriarty now. Stay at home and don't text me until I text you again. I love you –SH

Sherlock immediately received a text. It couldn't be John, so Mycroft then.

Be careful, brother –MH

Smiling, Sherlock got up and walked to the figure sitting in the bench in front of him. "Hello", Sherlock greeted Jim, seating next to him.

The text sent terror running through John. No chance in sleeping tonight, he thought as he collapsed on the couch. He felt sick now, a mixture of fear and the drinks hit him. He closed his eyes tightly, struggling to keep what little he had in him.