The Iceman.

Hello chaps :) - this chapter is really just a lead on from the last, but I'm gonna back away from this plot for a bit now, and move more back onto Johnlock.

Hope you like it :D

Enjoy and Review!

Every single part of my life that was worth living for, is gone. The only person I have ever truly loved, dead. And it's my fault.

I should've had security cameras on Scotland Yard, but I'd reduced them because he doesn't like being watched, and I trust him. I trusted him.

I should've known he'd want present approval from Sherlock and John, he always does that because he wants to make everything perfect.

I still talk to him. I take a walk, sit down, and I see him.

'You shouldn't have done that' he says.

Greg just looks back, his ghostly face smirking slightly as he replies. 'Your brother might have been in danger, you would've done the same thing'.

This angers him 'He was leaving! What good have you done? You're an idiot'

He agrees with that one quite willingly. And then he whispers 'I still love you'

Which is enough to annoy Mycroft to the point of trying to leave his own hallucination.

'I will never be whole again. And it's your fault' he screams, at which point, he realises he's been shouting at the gravestone.

Gregory Lestrade

Much loved husband, brother, friend.

One sacrifice too many for the sake

of others.

This was also a lie. But a relatively nice one, Mycroft thought.

He was never a husband, and he was an only child. However, Mycroft and Greg were in the stages of planning their engagement and wedding already, and they had already started to call each other 'husband' in private, so it was good as true.

Everyone considered him part of the family, and Sherlock himself had requested 'brother' to be added.

He backed away from the gravestone, away from the staring eyes of other mourners around him, and found himself running to Baker Street.

He avoided the persistent calls from Anthea, and didn't slow down until he reached 221B. He knocked on the door, leaning on it to avoid passing out. It was quickly opened by John, surprise unhidden on his face.

'Jesus, Mycroft. Come in' he says, ushering him in, and shutting the door behind him. He sat me down on the sofa, and wrapped a thick wool blanket over me, and within seconds was making tea. To him that was the protocol.

'What happened, mate?' john asked, sitting down next to him.

'I went to visit Greg' Mycroft choked, attempting to hide his emotions. He'd been taught by the best to never unravel in front of another person. But this was more difficult than he thought.

John sighed, putting an arm around Mycroft and pulling him closer.

'You need to start to think of other things, Myc. Go back to work, get a hobby. It won't change anything but it'll make it slightly easier.'

Mycroft nodded at this, he knew he had to go back to work anyway; he'd taken the maximum amount of paid leave for a year in a few weeks. But this didn't make the reality of it any easier. He was going to have to go on in the world, and leave Greg behind, and that was the only thing he didn't want to do.

'Nothing will bring him back' John whispers, recognising his thoughts.

Live a full, happy life. A double life. Live for Greg, Mycroft. John said, slowly easing Mycroft to lay down fully on the sofa.

'Now, by the looks of it, you were close to a panic attack and you're verging on being incredibly depressed. If my analysis is anything to go by, you're going to stay here overnight. Have a rest on the sofa, and there's a spare room upstairs to the left. I'll see you later' John nods and slowly walks towards the door to his room.

Mycroft leans forward slightly, thinking of how to thank him.

'You'll be a good doctor' he tried, pushing forward a small smile.

John grins, and chuckles slightly. 'I should hope so'.

The moment John leaves the room, he pulls out his phone and texts Sherlock.

Myc's here. He's the opposite of himself, must be worse than we thought. Get back tonight, this time, okay? - JW

He gets a reply minutes later.

I'm on my way. Don't expect me to be all cuddly with him. Make sure he has an extra blanket though. He's skinny enough to need it. I love you – SH

John grinned at this, the text almost completely contradicting itself. He knew Sherlock cared more than he dared to think about. And the only way he could truly show it was through John.

I love you more – JW he replies.