Sherlock woke the next day to the feeling of someone rufling his hair and he was about to tell Mycroft off for it when he realised it wasn't Mycroft but John.

'You're awake. How do you feel?' He sat up quickly and John's hand dropped to the bed.

'Tired. Humiliated. Why didn't you just let me die?' the question was absolutely serious and John looked so sad when he blinked up at his flatmate.

'I did. To everyone outside of this clinic you're dead and gone.' Sherlock said proudly even though it had in fact been his brother's idea. However Mycroft was not around to take credit having popped out to talk to the medical staff.

'That's good.' John mumbled 'You're in my bed.' He stated with a frown and Sherlock smiled down at him.

'Nope, I'm in mine, they're just attached.' He answered and then a thought occurred to him. What if John didn't want him this close. What if what had been done to him back in his bedroom had left him not wanting this kind of proximity.

'Is it ok that I'm here. It would appear that panic attacks leave you rather tired. Mycroft had me admitted.' He said and John's eyes opened wide at the revelation.

'You had a panic attack?' he asked incredulous.

'Yes, I don't recommend it. It was only supposed to be for show but it worked rather better than I had foreseen. Apparently Mycroft had to carry me back in the clinic. Very embarrassing.' Revealing his embarrassment was all worth it when he saw a small smile pull at the side of John's mouth.

'I'm tired, think I need to sleep. Will you be here when I wake up?' John asked.

Sherlock felt like someone had taken his heart and twisted it in his chest. 'I might not be. I have to go back to Baker Street and continue the charade that you're dead. John's face fell.

At that point Mycroft entered with a bunch o newspapers in his hand. 'It worked, you're in every single paper. The Sun has you on the cover.' He informed and then halted as he saw John awake. 'Good morning John.' Mycroft said politely.

'Is there a picture of Sherlock being carried by you? Cause I'd like to see that.' John murmured weakly.

Mycroft hesitated, not willing to let John see the papers. The truth was that there were plenty of pictures of Sherlock being carried back into the clinic but not as many as the pictures of a highly pixelated but none the less clearly naked John being carried out of 221B by Sherlock.

'I'm sure we can find you a picture of that.' Mycroft said instead placing the papers on a side table well out of John's reach. 'For now I'll get the doctor, he will want to know that you're awake.'

'He's acting more weird than usual.' John mumbled but his eyes were drifting shut again and Sherlock was sad to see him slip off into sleep once more. He hated the idea of having to leave John alone but he also knew that it was necessary in order to keep him safe.

Once he was sure that John was once again asleep he slipped out of bed and made his way over to the newspapers. Mycroft was right, they had garnered a lot of attention. The front page of the Sun bore the title Detective drives blogger to suicide in bold letters under which were twin pictures of himself holding John while waiting for the ambulance and Mycroft scowling at the camera while lifting Sherlock from the ground. The two could be mirror images if it wasn't for the fact that he himself had the good fortune of being clothed. They both looked absolutely awful, covered in blood and towered over by a concerned looking Holmes brother. Sherlock was impressed by Mycroft's acting ability. He looked both sad and angry as he clutched his younger brother to his chest. Holmes Senior confirms the death of blogger John Watson read the text under the picture and Sherlock could not help but shiver slightly. It was certainly convincing.

Mycroft came back with the doctor who checked John's vitals and said that now that he had woken up they could be fairly sure that he would pull through. That was of course exactly what Sherlock wanted to hear and he was more willing than he would have otherwise been to go with Mycroft when his brother urged him to come back to Baker Street with him.

'Ok, you need to put on an act of grieving now but if you could avoid passing out again that would be good.' Mycroft told him as they walked through the clinic toward the waiting crowd. Sherlock wondered if the press had in fact slept on the pavement outside the clinic but noted that they were all crisply dressed and so had almost certainly just turned up in hopes of seeing him released.

As soon as they exited the cameras started flashing and questions were flung from all around.

'Why did Dr Watson kill himself?'

'Will there be a public funeral?'

'Are you going to be looking for a new flatmate?'

Sherlock nearly lunged at the man who had asked that last question and he would have had it not been for Mycroft wrapping an arm protectively around him and pulling him away from the reporters. Sherlock resisted him and turned to face the crowd with tears running down his face. 'He was murdered, a stupid, evil man tormented him for months and he still wouldn't have killed himself if said madman hadn't started to attack his friends and family. John Watson was a hero and he was murdered, put that in your papers and stop humiliating him by posting unflattering pictures of him just to sell more copies.' He shouted in a perfect display of grief stricken anger.

'Were you two a couple?'

'Did you have any idea he was going to do it?'

The questions started raining down again but this time Sherlock allowed Mycroft to lead him away to the waiting black car.

'That was very convincing.' Mycroft said as the car pulled away.

'Yes well, it doesn't take much work. It was very nearly not a performance. You will set up that video link won't you? So I can make sure he's safe.' Sherlock responds staring out the window as they make their way through London.

Once they reached Baker Street they were met by another horde of reporters shouting the same inane questions. Mrs Hudson met them in the door with red eyes and dressed all in black in an antiquated display of mourning. 'Oh Sherlock, I'm so sorry she said and wrapped him in her arms. Sherlock melted into her embrace sobbing openly making sure that the reporters got their photo opportunity.

'Leave us alone to grieve in peace.' Mycroft yelled at them setting off another flurry of questions. We'll issue an official statement but for now just leave us alone.' He said as Mrs Hudson gently guided Sherlock inside and away from prying eyes. Sherlock felt a little bit guilty at not being able to tell her the truth but she would know soon enough. As soon as they had found Larson and he could bring John back home again.