Mycroft bowed his head, bracing himself for the words that would banish him from the soldiers life forever.

As John looked at the remorseful man in front of him, the words Elizabeth had said to him echoed in his mind.

"He didn't want to tell you about the connection between you two because he wanted you to remember," she said. "He looked for you for so long, and was so surprised when you just popped up. And then he began to talk to you, and to worry about you about as much as he worried about Sherlock. He trusted you with a case for national security. Whatever that mad man said, he was wrong. You are not an asset or an experiment. You are a part of this family John, so I'm afraid you're stuck with us."

John looked really looked at the man. He looked so raw, so genuine.

He choose, he choose to believe Mycroft. Mind made up, John decided to focus on something else.

"How's the leg?"

Mycroft head popped up with a look of shock that almost made John laugh aloud. John mused that not many people had managed to make the elder Holmes look that shocked.

"It recovered for the most part, infection in my leg was kept to a minimal during my stay in the hospital," Mycroft said softly in return. "This leg will always be weaker than it once was, but I made a full recovery."

John nodded, he had expected that much from the conditions Mycroft was in when he was sent off. "Everything else appears to have healed well."

"I did have the best Doctor," Mycroft said looking at John.

They fell into silence and nothing could be heard except for the beeping of the machines.

John finally broke it. "Mycroft I can forgive you for the most part for what happened tonight. But I can't forgive you for holding this back. The work I did, the team I was on, this could have endangered them all. If he knew I wasn't alone, what would he have done to all of them?"

"There where cameras in the cave John," Mycroft said softly and pulled out the picture he had been sent. "That's how he found you in the first place. Only you John."

John's eyes widened at the blood, it was the same picture Moriarty had shown him. Suddenly he remembered what Moriarty had said to him.

"He showed me this picture, he knew I had been separated from my unit. He knew Mycroft, he knew," John hoarsely said, a slight note of panic in his voice.

The team, was more than just a team. The missions they had been sent on, the blood they had spilt together, and all the sacrifices made them family, stronger than blood. John would do anything for them without a moment's hesitation. John would never forever himself if anything happened to any of them.

Mycroft found himself leaning forward and placing his hand on-top of Johns and looked at him seriously.

"John, he doesn't know anything. He wouldn't know anything about your team, you said it yourself to Sherlock, what you did doesn't exists. He never saw the rest of you team, never heard them speak, you know what I mean."

Mycroft watched as his logic sunk in. Moriarty had never heard the rest of the group, didn't know that they different nationalities. Even if Moriarty went looking through military records, he would have to pick the right countries records and try to find a match with the times John had been gone from his unit. If they had even been recorded at all.

Mycroft had pulled his files and the week John had rescued him, there was nothing. On paper John never left his unit. That was one of the reasons why John's unit was called upon so often. It was hard to trace, the records so carefully put together that usually none of them ever appeared in the same country.

Mycroft continued, "You have my word John, Moriarty will pay for this. No one hurts my family and gets away from it. There is no hole he can crawl into that I won't uncover him. I will personally see that what he has done is returned to him ten-fold."

John gave him a nod, "Alright Mycroft."

Though his heart warmed at what Mycroft said, family. Just like Elizabeth had said.

Not too long afterwards Mycroft was shooed out of the room by the nurse to change John's bandages and another shot of pain killer had John out for the rest of the day.

By the third day in the hospital John was impatient to get out of there. In John's case the old saying of Doctors being the worst patients were true. John wanted nothing more than to sneak out of the room, but he doubted anyone would let him.

It was shocking, humbling, and a little terrifying for John to learn how many people cared about him. The first day there was a steady stream of visitors. Mike, Mrs. Hudson, and Molly John expected. But he was surprised when many from the Yard came to see him to like Dimmock, Angelo stopped by having heard from the network John was in the hospital. He promised John a meal when he got out, even Sarah came and visited him. The only person John didn't see hide or hair of was Sherlock.

Fortunately for his cabin fever, as always Molly was a god-send.

"Have I told you lately Molly that I love you," John said with pleasure as she handed him a cup of tea from their favorite café.

"Not since two weeks ago when I shared the secrets of getting the blood stains out of your Jumpers," Molly said with a small smile. That didn't quite reach her eyes, those were still filled with worry as she gazed down at John.

The first time Molly had laid her eyes on John in the hospital she had cried. Even more so when the woman she often saw in the company of Mycroft pulled her aside after the visit and gently explained what exactly had happened to John.

Molly was horrified that the man she had brought to the lab, who she thought had liked her was responsible. She had given Mycroft all the information she had on Jim.

She had tried to apologize to John, but he would not hear a word about it.

"You didn't know what he was, there is no reason for you to apologize," he had said matter of factly and that was that.

There was a sound at the door, and Molly turned briefly to make out Sherlock's curls before they were gone.

"Why does Sherlock keep hovering by the door?" she asked as John sipped on his tea.

John sighed, "I think he's afraid that when he sees me that I'll tell him to go away."

Molly huffed, "For heavens sake, he should know better."

John just shrugged.

Molly caught sight of the curls once more, and enough was enough. Standing up she opened the door. "Sherlock come here," she called to the fleeing back of Sherlock.

Sherlock paused a slowly turned around.

"Come here!" she ordered when he didn't move.

Slowly like he was afraid she would attack him, he approached.

When he got close, Molly did something that surprised both of them. She grabbed his arm and swung him into the room and closed the door behind him trapping him in with John.

Sherlock slowly turned around and met John patient blue eyes.

Approached the bed cautiously he perched on the chair that Molly had been sitting in previously. His eyes darted around the machines and how John looked today.

"What were you thinking?" John asked once more, looking at the other man. "Going to the pool by yourself? I don't believe for one minute that you didn't know about it before I walked out that door. "

Sherlock refused to squirm. The last time they had this conversation it hadn't ended well.

"I didn't," Sherlock started before pausing. John waited patiently.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "I didn't want you involved. I didn't want there to be a chance you would be…I thought you would…I thought it would be safer"

Everything Sherlock was trying to say wasn't coming out right. How could he put into words that he never deduced that any of this would happen? Sherlock didn't want John to do anything stupid when he confronted the bomber so he didn't call him or go looking for him. He thought Mycroft had picked him up or John had went over to Sarah's or Molly's.

But like always John seemed to understand what the genius was trying to say. "I was worried to, and when we get home we are going to have a long, long discussion of what is acceptable behavior on our future cases. There has to be more communication, because I one of these days neither of us are going to be so lucky. We've had too many close calls."

When we get home, our future cases.

Sherlock couldn't believe that Mycroft had been right that John wasn't going leaving. Sherlock was certain that Mycroft was wrong. But John was coming home to Baker Street!

"We will John, we will."

However something was coming that no one was expecting that would change things

Everybody in the Special Ops kept in close contact. They knew what was going on in each other's lives. They were careful about it; since they were nine guys from different countries who were never meant to know about each other in the first place.

Carefully sent postcards and letters disguised as common junk mail were sent back and forth. On occasion they risked meeting when they were in the same countries.

Colonal Hannibal Smith formally of the U.S.A Marines, current C.I.A Agent had been sent on special assignment in London when he heard what happened to John. As the official leader of the Special Ops group, he kept a special tab on the welfare of the other eight members of his team.

To say he was surprised when he found out that the Shadow British Government was up in arms over one of his men, was an understatement. But as soon as he heard what had been done, that John had been brutally tortured at the hands of a mad man he made the call.

The Shadow Government seemed to be determined to find this man in a hurry. Hannibal just knew that this man better pray that the shadow government got him first, because eight highly trained angry men were converging on London in all speed possible.

For himself, Hannibal threw all caution to the wind. He marched right to St. Barts, pushing past nurses and doctors telling him to wait. The Shadow Government goons were slightly harder to get past, but in the end he found himself standing beside John's hospital bed.

"Sarge?" John said in wonder as he looked up at the man in shock, calling him by his code name still an ingrained response.

"Hello Doc," Hannibal said in a warm voice as he took the seat next to the bed. "I came as soon as I heard and don't worry John, he'll pay!" he murmured clasping his brothers hand. "We will make sure of it."

"We?"

"Team Shadow Bravo, they are all heading here John."

Hannibal held a hand up, stopping John's protest before he could form them. "Try to deny that if something happened to Zach or Liam, or any of the others, that you wouldn't do the same."

John wisely didn't try to argue with that. Because he would do exactly what his brother in arms were doing. Heading straight to the place where the attack happened, so he could start hunting the sons of a bitches down.

Hannibal had to smile. The good Doctor was easily to read in this department. He would always deem himself none important, but would jump to defend anybody else. A very risky attitude for a soldier to have, one that had unfortunately caught up to the Doctor when he got shot.

The door opened, breaking the moment and a man in a suit flanked by security entered to room. Hannibal's eyes immediately flickered to the hands that rested firmly over what he knew to be hidden guns.

"Mycroft, everything is okay," John said. "This is an old friend of mine."

The man said nothing, but a flick of his fingers had the men beside him lower their hands to their sides once more.

Sarge slowly stood up and walked over to the intruder John had called Mycroft. He could only assume that this was the Mycroft Holmes, the head of Britain's Shadow Government himself. Hannibal watched as the other man's eyes widened slightly as if in recognition. But there was no reason why Mr. Holmes would know him. Except for one. Hannibal recognized the woman that came to stand behind Mr. Holmes. It wasn't every day that he saw a gorgeous woman in Afghanistan, let alone one who came to pick up a missing government man. But then again Mr. Holmes wasn't just any missing government man.

Hannibal's phone pinged, a few of the boys had arrived. They needed to set up a base of operations and he needed to get all the information he could on this Moriarty. Once Bravo team was assembled they would be hitting the ground running.

"Excuse me Mr. Holmes, or should I say Mr. Carter," Hannibal said enjoying the surprised look on the man's face before turning to look at John.

"I'll be back later with the lads to see you later Doc."