Chapter Text
I wake up, turning to see a most familiar sight in bed next to me. Him. Sherlock Holmes. Love of my life. We’ve been through… things together, but it changes nothing. It feels like forever since Reichenbach, even though it’s barely been a year and a half. He still won’t go to Bart's. I can tell he misses it, though, and it hurts me just as much. He stirs, and I smile.
"Morning." His voice hasn't changed in the years I've known him, not even after what he went through in those two years he was gone.
"Morning. You alright?" He nods, and the simple movement sends a burst of happiness to my brain. He's just so damn human. I know he refuses to admit it, but he feels, and he understands. We stayed up late last night, and I hope he's okay after... all that. It was a tough case, even for us. And, well... I don't need to go into detail about what happened after we got home. I head to the kitchen, getting a small breakfast ready for the both of us. I know he won't eat much, but he's getting better. We sit down to eat, and the familiar taps on my hand are comforting. dit-dit, dit-dah-dit-dit, dah-dah-dah, dit-dit-dit-dah, dit, dah-dit-dah-dah, dah-dah-dah, dit-dit-dah. I love you. in Morse code, of course. He's never said it out loud, but me neither. it feels more... real this way. I missed him during those two years. I really did.
Our peaceful moment is interrupted by a rather obnoxious cellphone chime, and I can tell it's Greg.
"Are you ready for a new case so soon?" I turn to him, worry clear in my eyes. His are clear and piercing as ever, but they look softer.
"Yes, I'll be alright." he stands swiftly, but immediately stumbles, and I rush to help him.
"Be careful! As your doctor and your boyfriend, you need rest." He shakes his head, and I sigh. I know there's no stopping him now. I call a cab, helping him down the stairs even if he pretends to not need it. I slide in first, helping him out when we get to New Scotland Yard. Greg rushes out to meet us, and I can tell this isn't going to be relaxing.
"Well? What is it now that has you so baffled?" Sherlock's voice cuts through the crisp air, and I smile despite myself. He looks so handsome like this. Cheeks flushed from excitement (although I can't seem to get the idea of them flushed for other reasons out of my head), eyes sparkling from the thrill, and, of course, coat collar turned up against the non-existent wind. Greg steps forward, handing us a file. Sherlock takes it, but it almost falls out of his grip the moment he reads the first few words. I hurriedly scoop it up, but I can't make sense of the name on the front.
"it's him, John." Greg steps closer, his brows drawn in worry. I look again, and my breath stops short in my chest. There. On the front of a pristine manila folder.
Mycroft Holmes.
I look up at Greg in confusion, still half supporting Sherlock by his waist. Damn, that waist. I can almost wrap my hands around it, which is especially useful when- no. not right now, stop getting off topic! Back to Mycroft. Greg looks almost terrified, and I can't understand why both he and Sherlock are so horrified by the name of a somewhat kind man. That is, until I open the folder.
Murder.
Murder. not committed by him, but to him. One of the most protected and important men in British history, and someone got close enough to actually kill him. if they can do that, then who in this world is safe anymore? I have to protect Sherlock now. at any and all costs.
Always.