Mycroft dropped his head into his hands. He couldn't do this, leave his brother and John to their own devices. He didn't know why they had left the shelter of the flat, but he should have expected nothing different from them. The government official ran his fingers through his thinning hair. He had to do something. Lestrade, the DI that Sherlock worked with so often, knew something was wrong. Mycroft picked up his phone and asked Anthea to join him.

"Sir?" the brunette asked as she entered his office.

"Prepare a car. We'll be picking up my brother and Doctor Watson. Also arrange for an escort. Six of my most trusted and best men. We're going to Baskerville. Every precaution must be taken to ensure they don't try to keep my brother." Or John Watson, he added mentally. "We leave within the hour."

John was completely exhausted from coping with the sensory input that had assaulted him on the way back to the flat from the crime scene. He had made it halfway up the stairs, when it simply became to much for him. He started shaking violently.

Unsure what to do, Sherlock moved up to stand beside him on the stairs. Hesitantly, he embraced the taller man, keeping his hold firm. He didn't think it would have worked on him as a child, but this was John. Maybe... The doctor's tremors subsided slowly and he extricated himself from Sherlock's embrace.

"I'm okay, now. Sorry." John finished climbing the stairs and sat on the sofa, letting his head hang down.

Sherlock went into the kitchen and put the kettle on because that was what his friend did for him. As he waited for the water to boil, he walked over to the kitchen table and picked up his lab book. Flipping through it, he went to where the entry for the disastrous experiment started and tried to make sense of it. He read and reread until the kettle clicked off, then as the tea steeped. Tucking it under his arm, he carried two mugs of tea back to the living room and set them on the coffee table before sitting next to John on the sofa.

"Sherlock..."

"Mm."

"Would you do that thing again? It helps, better than the blanket." John looked down and away as if ashamed to be asking.

The detective, though his current mind operated at a slower pace, quickly deduced what his friend needed. He tossed the lab book down on the coffee table, he couldn't make sense of it anyway, and pulled John to him. He held him tightly and willed all of this to go away, as irrational as that was. If only they could identify where in the experiment things had gone wrong. If only he had his Mind Palace and its knowledge. If only...

Sherlock's frustration, normally a quiet thing that took time to rise to a boil, exploded. He lashed out with his foot and kicked the coffee table over, spilling the tea and sending his lab book flying.

John gave a start.

"Sorry." The detective held him tighter. "I'm just a bit..."

"Yeah." John chuckled darkly. "Right about now is when I normally take one of my famous walks."

Without thinking, Sherlock placed a kiss to the centre of the doctor's forehead. "I can't do that. Not knowing this is all new to you, how you're feeling."

"It's as new to you as..." John cocked his head. "Someone's coming."

Sherlock strained to hear something, but it was a few more moments before he heard his brother's familiar tread on the stairs. "Mycroft."

Neither man moved as the door opened and the government official entered the flat. He didn't comment on their positions, simply looked at them and said, "I was wrong. We're going to Baskerville."