Author's note: Happy easter! I hope you have a wonderful day.

Please review.

Sherlock opened the door without knocking, finding Bill talking to Jim while John was standing in the background, looking at his phone.

This time, sentiment didn't surprise him.

He had known it would be difficult to see Jim Moriarty again.

The man who had almost cost him his life. The man who had fascinated him more than anyone else, before he had been alone in a foreign country and realized what playing the game had cost him. The man who was working here in IT and happily explaining to Sherlock's counterpart that he was going to ask "her" out today –

Grew up in Sussex, studied in London, likes to read, doesn't have pets...

Everything about the man before him was normal. Ordinary. If he had met him on the street, Sherlock would have deduced him and then quickly deleted his existence from his mind palace.

But this was Jim Moriarty. He shook his head to clear his thought at the same time the man looked away from Bill and saw them.

His mouth fell open.

"So you weren't kidding."

"I told you I wasn't."

"I thought it was one of John's experiments..."

Bill chuckled. "Can't blame you for that."

Their easy conversation made Sherlock's skin crawl. He could remind himself that this wasn't the consulting criminal as often as he wanted – he still wanted to shoot the IT tech, wanted him dead, because there was still a corner in his mind palace where he lived on, was chained in a cell, and sometimes, at night, when everything was too quiet and not even the violin could keep the memories at bay, he crept out and taunted Sherlock –

Jim moved forward and, much like Bill had done, reached out to touch him.

This time, John didn't allow it.

Before he could react, his best friend had come to stand in front of him and punched the other man in the face.

John couldn't take it. The moment he saw Jim reach out, he hit him. He reacted without thinking, he only knew he had to protect Sherlock, because Moriarty was standing in front of him.

It was difficult enough to watch Bill talk so amicably with him; when they'd entered, he'd been smiling and shaking his head at something the man had said.

And then he moved, and John couldn't allow it. This man wouldn't touch Sherlock.

The noise his body made as he fell to the floor was satisfying.

He would have hit him again if Sherlock's hand on his arm hadn't stopped him.

During the next few seconds, Bill shouted out "Jim!" as he fell down, his hands on his nose, Sherlock pushed John behind him, both to stop Bill from attacking his friend as to put a barrier between the doctor and Jim, and the other John calmly watched the scene before him.

Bill dragged Jim's hands away from his face, obviously concerned.

"You're bleeding – hopefully it's not broken..."

He glared at John.

"I know he was a criminal in your universe, but that gives you no right to punch him".

Sherlock heard the intake of breath behind him that indicated that John was about to scream, and he turned around and lay a hand on his shoulder.

"John..."

"Sherlock, he – "

"I know". He paused before repeating, "I know".

John's hands were clenched into fists, and his breathing was laboured, but as he looked into Sherlock's face, he slowly calmed down and eventually, he was confident that the doctor could keep his calm.

He looked at Bill, who had helped Jim on a chair and was cleaning the blood of his nose that John apparently hadn't broken after all.

"We apologize".

"You better" the other man grumbled.

"That was unexpected" Jim said. "You're strong". He shook his head and, although Bill tried to stop him, stood up.

"Why did you do it? Probably because – I was a criminal, Bill said. What did I do?"

John drew in a deep breath, but, to Sherlock's relief, he didn't answer.

"It is complicated" he replied curtly.

Jim raised his hands.

"Sorry. Didn't want to annoy you."

"It's not – "

John's voice sounded foreign. He cleared his throat and stepped forward so that he was standing next to his best friend. Sherlock couldn't help but notice that he was still tense, ready to jump at any moment, and since he still had his gun with him, this was rather disconcerting.

He could have told John to leave, to wait outside, but there was no way the doctor would do so with Moriarty in the room. And, to be honest, Sherlock preferred him there.

He looked into Jim's eyes and reminded himself again that this wasn't Moriarty.

"It is all rather confusing" Sherlock eventually said when it became clear that John wouldn't finish his sentence.

"Yes it is" Jim said, "Kind of cool, though". His eyes widened with excitement. "Parallel universes? It's great!"

Bill laughed.

"You'd never have forgiven me if we hadn't come to see you, right?"

Neither Sherlock nor John pointed out the stupidity of the statement, since it was clear that Jim would never have known anything about them if they hadn't needed his help.

Jim nodded excitedly and apparently wanted to step towards them again, but looked at John and thought better of it.

Sherlock heard the doctor sigh next to him and watched him walk over to Jim. This time, he didn't appear to want to hit him, so the consulting detective allowed it.

Jim flinched slightly when John stood before him, and the doctor illogically felt something like guilt. No, not irrationally. This wasn't Moriarty. If anything, the fear in his eyes proved that. The consulting criminal had never been afraid of John; he'd watched with glee as his employees decked the doctor in explosives, had sent him an uncaring glance in the courtroom.

This man didn't want to be hit again, and he'd talked to Bill like John would have talked to an old friend.

This wasn't Moriarty. This was a patient. This was someone who had been hit. Bill had cleaned his face, but they had to make sure he wasn't injured.

"I'm a doctor. Let me see your nose".

"It's alright; he's nice when he's not punching people" Bill said and patted Jim's shoulder.

The other man relaxed and allowed John to take a look at his face.

"Nothing's broken" he announced.

"I'm sorry" he then added, because only Sherlock had apologized until now, and he felt he had to as well.

"No worries. It's not the first time I got punched." Jim waved a hand in the air and then pocked John in the chest.

Surprised, he stepped back.

Jim laughed.

"Sorry, I just wanted to see if you were real."

"Now that this interesting display is over, can we come to the point?" John the consulting detective asked.

"Come on, John, even you can't be bored" Jim said.

"I am not bored. I am –"

"Impatient?" Bill supplied. John frowned, and the two friends laughed.

John looked at Sherlock who shrugged his shoulders. He could only hope that eventually Jim would ask what they wanted.

He did so. After John had once again reminded them that they were here for a reason.

"And why couldn't you just google it?"

"We had to break into a lab that didn't exist officially" Sherlock explained. There was no reason to assume that here, research that would be considered dangerous to the public wouldn't be kept secret.

"So you want me to hack in a Government database".

"Yes."

Jim smiled.

"And I thought you'd ask me to do something challenging".

He sat down in front of his computer and started to work, lost in his own world.

"It might take a while" Bill said. "Anyone want coffee?"

"Yes, please" John answered thankfully. "Sherlock?"

The consulting detective nodded, and after Bill had made sure John wanted a cup to, he and the doctor went to get coffee. John needed the walk to clear his head and if anyone should see them, he'd just assume that they were working on a case – as long as Sherlock and the other John stayed in the room, no one would know.

"So..." Bill began as they walked through an empty corridor, "How did you two meet?"

"I was an army doctor. I got shot and invalided home – I had a psychosomatic limp, a tremor in my left hand and couldn't work, so I needed a flatmate. A friend introduced me to Sherlock. We've been living together ever since".

He didn't want to mention Moriarty or the years spent apart. He wasn't lying – neither of them had been really living during that time.

He was so caught up in his memories that he didn't realize Bill looking at him expectantly until they were standing in front of the coffee machine.

He realized how impolite he was and asked, "And you?"

Bill's smile was somewhat pained.

"I was working in a lab – taking blood samples, testing them, that kind of thing. One day, a DI brought John because he had solved a case".

"He had his blood tested because he solved a case?" John asked. He knew where this was going, but he didn't want to hear it.

Bill's laconic "Well – he had walked unto the crime scene and known who the murderer was in an instant, but he was clearly high" confirmed his fears.

"And you – "

The other man passed him a hot cup and shook his head.

"I don't know why, but there was this connection – I didn't have any problem with him deducing my life, not that there was much to deduce. But still – I wasn't angry. And he was surprised."

"So you moved in with him?"

"Not really, not at first – " Bill looked down and bit his lip. "It wasn't – the police wanted him to work with them, but only if he was sober. And it took a while. But he solved cases anyway, and he called me when he needed someone. And, to be honest – I was bored. I was bored, and there was this connection, and I'd wanted to move out anyway – "

"Move out?"

"Like I said, Mycroft can be overprotective. And I wanted something different, for a change". He grinned. "I'm an adrenaline junkie."

John tried to grin back, but didn't quite succeed. He had never really admitted to himself that part of what had drawn him to Sherlock when they had been introduced had been a need for excitement, a craving to feel the blood rush through his veins. He had never allowed himself to dwell on this aspect of his personality. Maybe because it made him less ordinary, and he had always been content to be normal.

It didn't matter now, though, because he was living with Sherlock and no normal human being would ever consider it.

And, really, he couldn't have cared less.

It was this realization that turned his grin genuine.

"I understand" he told him.

"So I guess your psychosomatic limp wasn't from PTSD?"

John frowned.

"I'm not Sherlock, but I'm not dumb either" Bill continued indignantly.

"I didn't mean to – it's just – you are not Sherlock" John apologized, aware of how strange he sounded.

Bill laughed. He did that rather often, John noted, and he would have nothing against it if Sherlock had done so too. It wasn't that the consulting detective didn't laugh; it was that his mirth was seldom genuine. When it was, he chuckled or smirked.

"Trust me" the lab tech said, "It's weird for me as well. I never thought I'd see the day when John bought his own coffee".

"You still haven't" the doctor pointed out.

"No, I guess not. Say, does Sherlock make tea?"

"He has made tea on a few memorable occasions".

Bill stared at him in shock, and this time, they laughed together.

The text alert of Bill's phone chimed and he pulled it out.

"He's probably wondering where his coffee is..." he mumbled before raising his eyebrows.

"Oh."

"What?" John demanded.

Bill looked up.

"Did I mention a certain overprotective older brother?"