24 hours later

"Tea?" John asked from the kitchen, as Mycroft and Greg entered the living room at 221B.

"Please." Greg shouted through. Mycroft merely nodded, taking Sherlock's chair by the fireplace and resting his umbrella alongside, tip on the floor and handle rotating slowly beneath his fingers. Greg debated taking John's chair but instead, pulled up a desk chair alongside Mycroft. John turned from the kitchen and smiled at the couple.

"They are releasing him at around 5pm, John." Mycroft imparted, "I have spoken to Doctor Hawkins, and we have come to an understanding that, after they finish the tests, he is better off recuperating at home."

John turned again to Mycroft from his position by the kettle. "I bet the hospital staff agree with that too!" he laughed. Mycroft gave a forced smile. "Indeed."

"They have some final tests to do before he leaves, and they anticipate that he should be able to leave by around midday tomorrow. I trust you will be available to collect him at that time, John? I shall provide a car, of course. At say, 4.30pm?"

John nodded from the kitchen. "Of course, Mycroft. Thank you." He turned to bring two teas into the living room, placing them beside the men. "If you wish either Gregory or I to come along also..." Mycroft began, but John held up a hand as he brought through his own tea and sat in his chair opposite.

"It's not necessary, Mycroft, thank you. I appreciate the offer, I do. I'm sure Sherlock does. But I think we need to get settled into whatever this..." he motioned around 221B, "is going to become. I know Sherlock is worried that I will leave him. I suspect you have similar concerns." Mycroft's eyebrow twitched, but he remained silent. Greg just gave a small head shake, and so John took the cue to continue.

"I can assure you that I am not going to leave Sherlock or make his life difficult in any way. I care deeply for him and, while I know that in the past, I have adamantly declared my heterosexuality, and I can't deny that I was somewhat shocked when Greg told me how Sherlock felt, but I have to confess that my feelings towards Sherlock are..." he paused. He wasn't entirely sure how to explain these feelings himself. "Well, they are genuine anyway, and I have no intention of hurting him in any way. I guess we will just have to see how things pan out."

Greg nodded with a broad smile. That was the best anyone could hope for, and he was certain that Sherlock would go for that. John cared for him. It was plain for the world to see that there was a deep connection between them, and John had obviously, in the light of all this, decided to just go with it. He clasped a hand over Mycroft's, reassured at its warmth.

"Did you sort it?" Jim turned to Sebastian as he entered the hotel room. "Did you get set up?"

Sebastian nodded and handed Jim a piece of paper. A schedule. "He is being released at about 5 o'clock, boss." he began, "and the brother is sending a car for Mr Watson at 4.30. They... Mycroft Holmes and Lestrade, that is... left Baker Street about 30 minutes ago. Mr Holmes went to his office and DI Lestrade is at the Yard. Everything is set up ready. Good to go whenever you need it."

Jim nodded. "Good work, Sebby." He smiled. Good, this was all going according to plan.

Sherlock was indeterminately bored in the hospital. He was sick to death of doctors and nurses; prodding and poking; and questions. Oh god, the questions. Doctors; nurses; police. Greg was notable by his absence. Sherlock presumed that he was being kept out of it because he was his friend (and, of course, it was plain as the nose on your face that he had become involved with Mycroft. Sherlock rolled his eyes.)

Some other inspector, a DI Dimmock, had visited him with questions about his dealer. Too many questions. How? Why? Who? When? How much?

Sherlock kept quiet. Mycroft could handle it. The fewer people who got involved with Jim Moriarty the better.

Jim.

Sherlock wondered. Jim had visited. Sherlock didn't have a clear memory of Jim coming in so he supposed he had missed at least part of the visit, but he had a perfectly clear recollection of some of it. Jim knew. Jim knows. He knows about John.

Sherlock knew that Mycroft would understand the gravity of that. Mycroft had been equally suspicious of Jim's involvement in Suzette's death, but he had failed to find any way to tie him to it or even to have it ruled as anything other than a tragic suicide.

Sherlock slumped back against his pillows. And now Jim knows how Sherlock feels about John.

He closed his eyes and groaned and, for the first time in his life, prayed that Mycroft could keep his friend safe.