Chapter 14: Lead Us Home~

Lucky for Mycroft it takes 4 shocks only. Not so very fortunately for Mycroft, Sherlock wakes up swinging ,and breaks his nose.

He comes back to reality, in John's arms, whose hands are carefully smoothing back his wild raven curls, like trying to tame a troubled wind.

"Hey..." John says ,smiling.

"You...you're really here? My eyes, my eyes see it. I am not one to question what my eyes perceive. You are here, so I see you, in some sense. But what do I see, what I want to see, or...the truth?"

"Maybe, for once, them both?"

Mycroft stands up slowly, cracking his nose back in place.

"Mycroft?" Sherlock mutters, and then it all comes back on him hard.

"Right, you sent him into all the MADNESS. Don't ask me to apologize for your nose, because you deserved it, and deserve more that I am in no physical condition to measure out."

"So, you consider us even then?"

"For now. Maybe I will assign you the dubious task of taking our parents to a showing of Les Miserables, as further punishment..."

John laughs, having no idea what that's all about.

"The pain of that will certainly make us even." Mycroft says, swallowing.

Comes and sits beside his brother, and the young doctor holding him in steady arms, the small cot in the back of the truck sagging under all of their weight, as weary of this life as they were.

"Well, Sherlock, we're about to take you home. And I will not be soft with you, for your own good. No one was able to prepare you at the outset for what you would endure on the field. And no one will be able to prepare you for the transition of going back..."

"Back...back to where?"

Joh goes cold at the look in Mycroft's eyes.

"Don't you remember?"

Sherlock stares blankly at the roof. "I ...am a dead man, Mycroft. The geography of the world of you living is fuzzy in my memory now...Where are you taking me back to? Serbia? Turkmenistan? Japan?

Come,don't bore me, I'm already in a state of wasting valuable psychological energy..."

"Home..."Mycroft says, confused, mouth gaping horrified.

"I am SORRY I sent John into the middle of it. But it is terribly childish to drag it out to this extent. Come don't be a fool, Sherlock , of course, it's over now, I'm taking you home."

"I heard you. I am simply asking, what does HOME mean, and where is it located?!"

Mycroft scoffs, John lays a hand on his knee.

"He...he's serious." John closes his eyes tight,and looks up at Mycroft again apologetically, "In Serbia, he..he deleted..."

Mycroft understands now.

"Oh, this transition...will be far more difficult than first we feared."

"Well, are missions supposed to be fun and games?ANSWER THE BLOODY QUESTION!"

John steadies Sherlock, who is getting almost violent. Mycroft at last understands that his little brother is broken in more ways than he could ever compute,and it will be a feat of epic proportions putting him back together again...

"You remember Baker Street? You and me, the thrill of the hunt, blood pumping through your veins? Just the two of us...against the world?" John asks ,voice soft, so very soft.

Sherlock looks at him wide-eyed, and slowly ,very ,very slowly, shakes his head "No".

John swallows. "You don't? What about Mrs. Hudson,...Greg Lestrade, Molly?..."

Hopefully, ever-so-hopefully, John thinks he sees recognition in his eyes.

Then he shakes his head, even more faintly, "no"...

John covers his mouth, and swallows, trying not to cry.

"Come here..." he whispers almost inaudibly, and pulls him close, rocking him back and forth.

Mycroft looks to the sky, "Heaven help us..." he whispers , and then says to the driver.

"Set us en route for England. London, England ,Sherlock that is where we are going. England...the country where you were born."

"What is my mission there?" Sherlock asks, sheepishly.

"R and R?" John says incredulously, with an anxious glance at Mycroft.

"We hope. " he says, and lays his head against the wall of the truck as the engine hums with life.

~To Be Continued~