Mycroft sat in the back of the sleek sedan, staring at his hands as he rubbed one slowly against the other. He considered the rather drastic step he was about to take, applying his usual painstaking analysis skills to every angle possible. It was clear that action was necessary, however the final permutation of the outcome escaped him this time. Sentiment. Always muddied the waters, made difficult choices even harder. He wasn't lying when he told Sherlock it was a disadvantage but he was concealing the fact that he himself was quite guilty of the same. With Sherlock's suicide only four months ago, events were making it impossible for Mycroft to feign indifference any longer. Today he would risk everything to save the man he had come to love against all odds and against his better judgement.

Detective Inspector Lestrade was waiting for him when he pulled up at the hospital. They nodded solemnly in greeting before heading inside for their meeting with Doctor Bearden. The thoughts of each on the man and the events that brought them here.

For the fourth time in as many months, Lestrade had gone by to check in on John, and received no answer at the door. Sherlock's death had hit him harder than anyone could have imagined so he and Mycroft had made a point of keeping a check on him. The first month John seemed to grieve and attempt to move on as most people would. But the start of the second month had brought the first attempt. Mrs. Hudson assured Greg that John had not left the flat in days so he had no scruples about entering when he got no reply. This time he found John near death in a corner of Sherlock's room. Wearing only a dressing gown and a scarf he knew for a fact had belonged to Sherlock, John was freezing in the cold room, glassy-eyed, limp, and disoriented. The heat was turned off in the flat and the window left open to the icy April night. Blood covered John's forearms in garish congealed streaks from numerous self-inflicted cuts, the blood-covered pocket knife still resting in his cold palm. When Greg shook John hard attempting to get a reaction he only heard a whispered, broken "Sherlock", before John slumped over unconscious. Greg had called an ambulance and notified Mycroft practically in the same instant as the security detail was alerted. Greg had debated about moving John but finally opted to carry him to the sitting room where the medics would have more room to work. Swaddling John in the thickest thing he could find, the duvet from Sherlock's bed happening to fit the need, Greg lifted the dead weight, carried his friend and deposited him on the sofa. He noted that John was far too light for the solidly built, compact man he was, indicating the drastic weight loss he had undergone over the past months. Greg found alcohol, antidepressants, and sleeping pills on the kitchen table and bagged them knowing the medics and doctors would want to know what John may have taken. Sirens were already approaching by the time Greg had done these few things. He gave the medics what information he had then went to John's room to pack a small bag of necessities to take to the hospital. Leaving Mrs. Hudson to secure the flat with a nod and a sympathetic pat to her arm, Lestrade followed the ambulance.

While John's life had been spared yet again, he ended up with a bacterial infection from the cuts and the cold, remaining feverish and delirious for days. Greg had been surprised often during those days to find Mycroft sitting vigil at John's bedside. The reserved government official never made any comments regarding his visits and often left when Greg came to sit a while, only to return when he was gone.

Once John was alert and coherent, he was embarrassed and angry equally. He furiously swore he had not been trying to kill himself. He had only wanted to numb the pain for a while, make it all go away he said. He had just gotten careless and went a bit too far that's all. John's stubborn refusal to accept counseling or assistance ended up being what brought the two men here today. A meeting to determine John's immediate future.

Doctor Bearden rose to greet them as they entered. "Mister Holmes, Inspector Lestrade, I appreciate you both making time to see me today. Please have a seat." Once they were seated he wasted no time getting to the point. "Despite Doctor Watson's denials the fact remains that he has engaged in self-destructive and suicidal behaviors repeatedly over the past few months. He should be able to go home today but I am not comfortable discharging him home on his own. Mister Holmes, I understand you retain Emergency Medical Proxy for Doctor Watson and you Inspector are his nearest friend so I have called you here to discuss the options before us."

Both men nodded, acknowledging the doctor's words before Mycroft spoke. "My brother's…... untimely demise has hit our good Doctor quite hard, as I am sure you have ascertained. We care a great deal for John and certainly would like to make the best choices to aid in his recovery."

"We have both tried our best to get him out of the flat, keep an eye on him, keep him engaged with life….occupied," added Greg, "But obviously our efforts haven't been enough," he shrugged sadly. Greg had been the one to find John each and every time this happened. His dreams haunted by images of John and those moments Greg considered he had failed his friend.

"What do you propose Doctor Bearden," Mycroft questioned, returning to the matter at hand.

"Well we certainly have grounds to have Doctor Watson sectioned but I am not certain that is the best course of action in this case," the doctor replied.

Greg's mouth fell open at the doctor's words, "John really would try to kill himself then! He would hate it and go completely mad!"

Mycroft allowed Greg to vent his feelings, merely considering Doctor Bearden with his usual bland expression. Once Greg quieted, Mycroft spoke, "I agree that would not be a wise choice for Doctor Watson. What if other arrangements can be made that will assure both Doctor Watson's supervision and safety? I happen to have a great many resources at my disposal."

Doctor Bearden considered the aloof well polished man alongside the Inspector. Not for the first time did he wonder how these men became acquainted with and...in fact, friends with an ex-army doctor. They were a most unlikely group of men. "That may be a possibility, Mister Holmes. But you have to understand the responsibility you are taking on, what Doctor Watson will require. If he ends up back here with another attempt then I will have no choice but to section him. With or without your approval."

Mycroft's eyes narrowed at the implied threat before he looked away. Glancing out the window to conceal his expression, Mycroft answered. "Oh….I think I have a very firm grasp of exactly what Doctor Watson requires." Returning his gaze to the doctor he continued, "I shall make John an offer today. An offer I fully expect him to refuse, however, as he has no real choice in the matter I expect we will come to an understanding before the day is out."

"I see," Doctor Bearden considered this before continuing. "Very well Mister Holmes. I shall allow Doctor Watson's discharge to your care. You will inform me when these arrangements of yours have been settled and assure that Doctor Watson attends some type of therapy or counseling. If you are not successful Sir, the next time we may be too late."

"Believe me Doctor, I have absolutely no intention of allowing that to be the case!"

Mycroft spoke with such quiet ferocity that Greg found himself looking over to catch the determined set of Mycroft's jaw and the crystal clear certainty in his eyes. Lestrade knew a man with a plan when he saw one and wondered just what they were in for.

With business attended to they bid their farewells to the doctor and headed up to John's room. As the elevator doors closed Greg turned to Mycroft, "What exactly are you planning?"

Mycroft answered readily enough. "I plan to move John into my home. There is adequate staff, security, and surveillance to keep an eye on him as well as myself. I can even arrange to work from home part of the time."

Greg couldn't stop himself, he laughed right out loud. "Oh you called that right! There is no way John will agree to that! Why did you let that doctor think you had something worked out?"

Mycroft did not reply, only cut his eyes to meet Gregory's in a stony stare.

Greg felt his mouth fall open, "What?! You actually think you will get John to agree?! Captain John H. "I Will Fuck You Up" Watson?! You are either deluded or have some wicked kind of blackmail up your sleeve!"

"Well Inspector, I shall leave you to your own deductions then shall I," Mycroft answered tightly.

Greg was still shaking his head when they reached John's room.

John himself was steadily pacing inside the small room but stopped as soon as his visitors arrived. He greeted them with a cautious smile, "Hey Greg, you here to give me a ride home then?"

Greg smiled back apologetically, "Sorry mate, I have to get back to the Yard. No rest for the weary and all that you know. I just wanted to come see you off and maybe arrange for a pint later this week or something?"

John gave him a weak smile, "Sure Greg….sure thing." The last thing John wanted was to go out for a drink. To be seen by anyone, become a target for the disgusting publicity hounds that had barely given him a moment's peace since Sher…..since…..since it happened. They didn't know! None of them Knew! Still John didn't want to shut out his friend, he'd just come up with some excuse before then.

The Inspector departed leaving John alone with Mycroft, awaiting his discharge instructions. John had nothing to say so he crossed to the window and gazed out at the blustery weather. Of course it would be a dismal day, suited his mood. Another day trying to keep going, trying to pretend his life mattered anymore.

As the moments of silence stretched on Mycroft confronted the enormity of the task he had before him this day. Realizing John had no intention of speaking to him, Mycroft took the initiative. "I trust that I will be an acceptable substitute to the Inspector, John?"

John didn't even bother to look at Mycroft, "You might be if it were necessary for me to have a ride home. I do know how to hail a cab, take the tube, even walk if I need too. I am frankly amazed you could even pull yourself away from your intrigues long enough to come by, aren't your security people enough to report on me without your personal attention. No need to put yourself out just for me now is there?" Turning to face him at last John smiled the most vile little smile, "Certainly not your style now is it?"

Mycroft almost thought twice about his plans in the face of that smile, it was rather frightening at face value. If you know the man behind it, it becomes quite terrifying. But the stakes were too high to back down and John's life was the prize.

"Some things actually are more important John. You, for example, are more than worthy of my attention at any time."

John couldn't hide the look of shocked surprise on his face but covered it quickly enough with a vicious snort. "Too bad Sherlock couldn't say the same."

Mycroft's hand tightened painfully on the handle of his umbrella as he forced himself not to reply. Both men remained silent, aware of the thick dark tension crackling between them. At length Mycroft brought himself to speak, "Your sentiments certainly may have merit John. Nevertheless, I am here to take you home and we may have some things to work out before that happens."

"Fine Mycroft….just…..just fine. I'd really like to get out of here yeah?"

"Of course you would John, your discharge is already in the works. We should leave momentarily." Mycroft stepped out to the nurses desk to see about John's paperwork.

John left him to it, returning to staring out of the window. 'Great,' he thought, 'the sooner he got out of here the sooner he could get back to disappearing.'

The ride back to Baker was silent though the tension had dissipated somewhat from earlier. John saw no reason to break this silence after Mycroft indicated they would talk back at the flat where they would be more comfortable. So upon arriving home, John promptly entered the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea. He purposely did not look towards the scene of recent events, even though thankfully, the door to the bedroom had been closed. Mrs. Hudson had obviously been in to clean up John's mess. Just as well, thought John considering he now had Mycroft Holmes here. He did feel bad for what he was putting Mrs. Hudson through on top of…...well he just felt bad, he thought.

John prepared the tea and placed everything on a tray. He froze in the doorway when he saw Mycroft sitting in His chair, legs crossed, elbows on the arms, and hands tented below his chin. The pose echoing that of his brother so startlingly that John felt a cold chill along his back. He wanted to yell at him to get up, get out of it, but remained silent. He shouldn't be surprised that Mycroft would sit there anyway. He always liked to unsettle his opponents after all. After only a moment he continued with the tea, pouring for Mycroft and offering milk and sugar as he preferred. John could be a gracious host, he just hasn't had a reason to try lately.

Mycroft knew John would make tea as this ritual helped to calm and center him. After his days away, he would need that. While John made his preparations so did Mycroft. He purposely chose Sherlock's chair, made sure it was directly opposite John's and slightly closer than normal. He sat in the chair, positioned himself in a purposely powerful position and waited. He observed John's shock when he saw him and noted the fine tremor in his left hand holding the tray for tea. He knew John's instinct was to yell at him, force him out of this hallowed space, yet he did neither. Mycroft saw the moment John decided to leave it and continued with the tea service. 'Interesting,' he thought. 'His suppositions were well founded it appeared and his task not as daunting as he first thought."

They drank their tea in silence. John having nothing he cared to speak on waited for Mycroft. And Mycroft letting John's curiosity grow. As they were finishing the last dregs of their drinks John appeared to reach his limit. "So what is it that we need to discuss? News? The weather? The state of the nation?"

Mycroft sat his teacup down and considered John for a moment before replying. "No John, nothing quite so mundane. I am afraid we have to discuss your future."

John had known it was coming. Mycroft wasn't going to continue paying rent on 221B indefinitely just for John to stay there and he was going to have to leave. He couldn't blame the man. Paying for a flat just so your dead brother's partner wouldn't be inconvenienced was more than anyone could be expected to do. John just wasn't prepared to deal with it so soon, he thought. He didn't think he could do it...not now...not yet. John felt like his oxygen supply had been cut off and he couldn't breathe. His heart rate climbing with the panicky respirations. John's thoughts continued spiralling out of control and the edges of his vision grew blurry and dark. The anxiety was overwhelming, threatening to crush him for good.

Mycroft observed the effect of his words on John, noting the elevated heart rate and the increasing respirations, the anxiety. Like the master manipulator he was he gave John what he needed in this moment. Leaning forward into John's personal space, he wrapped his long fingers around John's wrists, holding them securely as he spoke."John, 221B will always be your home. It will always be here for you. Yes, you will need to leave here for a time but you will always be able to return. I promise you that. Do you understand me?"

John registered the words but seemed powerless to answer, anxiety still crashing over him in waves.

Mycroft knew what was going on, could read John's face as plain as any book and he saw that further steps would be needed. Slowly pulling John's wrists together in front of him, Mycroft closed both hands

tightly around them binding them together before speaking firmly. "John. Look at me John." The words were a command and with a tug at his wrists drew John's focus at last; wide, frightened eyes turned to Mycroft in expectation . Mycroft continued, "It's okay John. Breathe with me now…...In…...and Out…..In…...and Out. Good, good...you're doing so well John. Calm down now. You will always have a home here. I will not make you leave forever." Having John's focus Mycroft shifted his wrists into one hand to hold and moved his other to the back of John's neck rubbing circles in the stiff muscles and stroking softly as he sought to calm John. As John slowly calmed and returned to himself, Mycroft gradually withdrew his actions one by one until he once more held only John's two wrists in his hands as John returned fully to the present.

As soon as John could register his surroundings, he was astounded to find Mycroft leaning into his space, holding his wrists. Quickly snatching his hands back, he rubbed absently at his wrists and wondered at the odd feeling in his gut. The only thing John managed to get out just then was a less than articulate, "What?"

Mycroft was not disturbed by John's response. Leaning back into the chair, he resumed his Sherlock-esque pose to keep John slightly unsettled. "Back to yourself now? Can we continue this discussion calmly?"

John was unsettled and a bit embarrassed by his obvious panic attack, looking at his wrists in his lap and noting the faint red marks from Mycroft's hold only reinforced this feeling. Attacks usually only happened as the result of his nightmares and Sherlock had been the only one to see him like that, to help him. John glanced up at Mycroft from under his downcast brow and considered the man. So like Sherlock and yet so different, so aloof and powerful, how exactly had he known how to help John. Oh John could recall everything now that the attack was over. He wasn't certain just what he was feeling about the whole episode. Mycroft had never gotten so personal with him before and it was disconcerting but not unpleasant by any means. What was he thinking? He really must be more messed up than he had thought to be thinking in any kind way toward the man who had betrayed his brother to Moriarty. Right. Focus on whatever Mycroft wants to discuss and get it over with.

"You said it was about my future. Said I wouldn't have to leave forever, that 221B would always be here...always be my home. That implies I will have to leave for an undisclosed period of time." John was reasoning out Mycroft's words as he went, searching for the hidden implications. Finally arriving at his conclusion John at last met Mycroft's sharp eyes with his own steely expression.

"Just where exactly will I be going? For how long? And for what purpose?" John fired off quickly, he knew not to trust the bland smile Mycroft bestowed upon him. Even if there was almost a hint of…..warmth?.. to it. Another random thought to puzzle John.

Mycroft had watched John recall the events of his panic attack, saw him focus intently on the marks on his wrists. He was aware of John's appraisal of him, despite the fact John tried to hide it. He watched as John recalled the words and events of his panic attack and only became puzzled instead of angry at the invasion of privacy. He marveled at John's own reasoning ability as he pieced together the implications of the very brief bit of conversation they had had so far. And he downright wanted to laugh for joy when John at last confronted him with his questions. Mycroft had never before put his poker face to such strain but he hid all these things from John and continued to observe him calmly.

Yes Mycroft knew he was on the right track now. His deductions had been correct as the panic attack had helped to prove. He knew exactly what John needed to help him overcome his grief and become himself once more. The battle was going to be in getting John to realize the same thing himself, to admit it and accept the help he needs. Oh and a battle it would be indeed! Mycroft had fought wars in many ways with an untold number of adversaries. But John had to be one of the most ferocious men Mycroft had ever had the pleasure to meet in battle. And a war it most certainly would be between the two of them, for the preservation of John's life and Mycroft's chance to love.

Mycroft could not remember the last time he was so excited to face off against an opponent.