Sherlock entered his brother's study just as the older Holmes was lifting the sleeping child into his arms.
"Brother." Mycroft stiffened shifting Hamish into a comfortable position; the blond boy automatically wrapped his arms around his uncle's neck and continued to slumber. "I see you have questions. I'll be back I must put Hamish to sleep, it seems I lost track of time and he's managed to stay up past his bedtime."
Sherlock shrugged wincing at the pain the movement caused he ignored Mycroft's worried glance.
"You should still be in bed resting."
"Boring."
Mycroft looked as if he were about to argue but his hands tightened around the sleeping child in his arms.
"We'll discuss this in a moment." He stated coolly,
"He looks like John. I thought for a moment I had seen a ghost." The younger Holmes frowned.
"He's a lot like the Doctor." Mycroft agreed keeping his voice low "He's surprisingly well behaved."
Then Sherlock looked away, "Mycroft if Moran is in town-"
"There is no where safer for Hamish but here, as for John I have my men on it." Mycroft didn't have to keep his eyes averted from his brother's, not wishing to give away the fact that John was in fact unaccounted for. The younger Holmes was too busy avoiding the scene in front of him. Mycroft started to leave but paused, "Have you thought about what you will say?"
Sherlock knew to what his brother referred to, and frowned he had thought about it for the past few years. However he wasn't about to admit that to the British Government.
Mycroft nodded reading his brothers expression or lack there of, "Do you think its wise to come back at all. I can help you start over. Somewhere else perhaps-"
Sherlock's eyes narrowed on his brother, "I'm home and after all this is over brother you and I are finished doing each other favors." Sherlock growled "Lets not forget who's at fault for my hiatus. You sent me on this little mission in the first place. I want what we agreed on. My name cleared and my life restored."
"He wont understand." Mycroft replied with solemn look on his face, desperation in his voice. Why couldn't Sherlock see reason?
"No you're wrong." Sherlock sighed "He will understand. He just won't forgive."
Mycroft's arms tightened on the sleeping boy in his arms, Hamish's soft breathing distinct in the uncomfortable silence of the room.
Sherlock could understand his brother's fears, if John was angry then he wouldn't see Hamish, and a part of Sherlock felt guilty for it and another part was angry. Angry because this comfortable friendship with John was his! It was the only thing Sherlock had that was truly his.
John was his friend and Mycroft had finally managed to take the last thing he could call his. When he did see John again it wasn't going to be hugs and tears it would be shouting and cursing.
Sherlock glared at his brother's retreating form, then his gray eyes flicked over to the peaceful face of Hamish. The boy did care deeply for Mycroft, is that why his brother was so loathed to allow Sherlock to reappear?
Why was this all so confusing it should have been an easy plan, it shouldn't have taken this long. Sherlock rubbed at the back of his eyes with the palm of his hands. He needed to get out of here, to be clear of the drowning memories that haunted this place and from his brother. He needed to find John according to Mycroft John was at a medical conference in Cardiff it wouldn't be hard to find out where his friend was staying. John was predictable Sherlock would find him and they could perhaps do this one last thing together.
Or Sherlock would be on his own, either way he was tired of waiting. The younger man flipped open his brother's laptop and started to hack the system. Sherlock sneered at the photographs on his brother's desk, causing him to punch the keys on the computer a bit more forcefully than he intended.
~0~
DI Lestrade stretched pulling his robe on he smiled down at the sleeping form of Molly. He might as well start the coffee, then a quick shower. Today was his day off and he planned on spending it with his lovely girlfriend.
Entering the kitchen he heard the percolator already going, the scent of the coffee beans was filing the small space.
Frowning he yawned shuffling over to the pot. Had Molly already beat him to it? He smiled to himself pulling two mugs down, well he'd have to show his gratitude in some way.
"Two sugars for me." Came the baritone voice from behind him causing the DI to drop the mugs in his hands.
"What the-" Greg placed a hand over his rapidly beating heart, there in his kitchen sitting at the table reading over a case file he'd left out was a ghost. The morning light was already lighting the dim kitchen, and Lestrade couldn't trust his eyes. He avoided the broken mugs at his feet and switched on the light.
There he was, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, looking thinner than he had ever remembered him. Dark circles bruised the skin around the consulting detectives sharp gray eyes.
"Sher-Sherlock?"
"Greg get dressed we have to find John he's been kidnapped. "
"But-but-" Greg hadn't blinked yet he wrapped his gray robe around him.
"Oh, by the way this is a simple case here. The landlord did it, I would question him and his wife. Now dress we haven't much time. And I need to see that break in report from John's flat."
It hurt to say John's flat. It used to be their flat, but Sherlock pushed the sentiment aside. Moran most definitely had John and he didn't have time to waste. He had already wasted to much time, too many years.
"Greg who are you-" Molly entered into the kitchen she'd heard muffled voices and what had sounded like shattering glass. She looked from her pale DI to the man sitting at the table. His hair was blond now she could see the dark roots starting to spring out. The man was wearing his signature dark suit looking pale as a vampire and just as surprised to see her as she was to see him.
"You're back." She whispered.
"You knew!?" Lestrade turned around causing Molly to wince.
"We don't have the time Lestrade. Will you help me or not?"
"Oh, I'm not going anywhere without an bloody good explanation!"
"I'll make the coffee." Molly sighed grabbing the broom near the fridge to sweep up the mess.
Sherlock frowned he stood up straightening his shoulders, grimacing over the pain in his side. "We don't-"
Before Sherlock could finish his next words the DI was engulfing him in a particularly awkward, painful and very uncomfortable hug.
"Sherlock, bloody Holmes. You absolute nutter! I knew you couldn't be dead. I fucking knew it!"