A/N: With the sad note of the previous chapter I thought that I owed you guys a day faster update than usual. Sooooooooo…

THANK YOU, so very much, for your reviews! They seriously do warm my heart. It's been a long, awesome ride! I'm thrilled that you've all decided to take it with me.

HANG IN THERE, FOLKS! It's almost over, now. The pain, the hurricane. Now let's find out what kind of an ending our beloved family will get.

Epilogue, part 3 of 3 – Dawn

The clock had already reached the early hours of the morning while the group sat in a hospital's waiting room. Stiff from having been on those painfully uncomfortable chairs for ages, exhausted to their bones from far too little sleep and entirely too much stress. Disappointed, worried, furious and upset.

This felt like some ridiculous, absurd nightmare.

Alex was the brave one to approach Sherlock, who'd isolated himself to the room's furthest and darkest corner. She could see the way he was shaking and sweating but she also noticed that he quite clearly wasn't high. Which didn't mean that he would've been in any way okay.

Making up her mind Alex got up and ended up to the chair beside his. There was nothing but sympathy on her face while she examined the shaken young man. "He'll be fine, you know?" she pointed out gently, hoping to reassure him.

She expected a retort. Or at very least a roll of eyes. Instead Sherlock nodded barely visibly, adamantly refusing to as much as look at her in favor of keeping his eyes on the room's door. He appeared utterly drained, ready to nod off at any second.

"Get some sleep", Alex suggested in her kindest tone. She went on without giving him the chance to snarl a refusal. "Mycroft… When he wakes up he's going to need you in your full strength. So get some rest."

It was unclear whether Sherlock heard her or not. The man's gaze seemed to linger somewhere only he could see. "I didn't even notice it." The words came out in a hiss but there was a bizarre, nearly defeated sidetone to them. "I… I always deduced it, before. Why couldn't I see it?"

Alex would've desperately wanted to grab his hand but had a feeling that physical contact wouldn't have been welcomed. So she bit back all her instincts and balled her hands. "Because you're grieving. And struggling", she pointed out softly. "You're only human, Sherlock. And there's nothing wrong with it."

Sherlock looked at her with strange, unreadable eyes. His mouth opened but in the end nothing came out. Instead he resumed to guarding the door with a heated glare. Although his posture didn't relax even slightly Alex felt that her presence had been accepted. So she stayed by his side, refusing to leave him all alone.

Dawn was already breaking when a nurse who seemed just as tired as they felt entered the room. The small smile on her face instantly banished some of their worst worries. Well, that was the case with most of them. Sherlock bounced up instantly and was on her like a public prosecutor. "How is my brother?"

The nurse didn't seem even slightly taken aback. Instead her expression softened, obviously seeing something that only a profiler was supposed to be able to. "Let me start with assuring you that he will be fine. We're keeping him asleep for now but everything looks promising." Her expression sombred a little. "As you know he had a heart attack. I've… been notified that he's suffered from a eating disorder. An active relapse most likely helped cause his condition, along with an alarmingly high blood pressure. That we'll be able to help with via medication. We'll be monitoring his heart closely to determine whether he needs medication for that problem as well. Obviously he'll also need nutrition counseling." Sherlock's snort brought a twinkle to her eyes. "Not the easiest patient, then? Don't worry. Alice, to whose hands I'll give him once he recuperates a bit, is used to tough clients." The nurse then frowned. "There… are also wounds on his hands that required stitches. Do you know what caused them?"

"He broke a mirror." Emily's eyes revealed that the sight still haunted her. And that she wasn't interested in saying another word more about it.

The nurse seemed to understand. "Alright, then. The stitches will most likely be removed before he gets to go home."

"Where is he?" Sherlock demanded sharply, clearly reaching the edge of his patience.

"Room 271. One floor up, third door to the right." The nurse stifled a yawn. "Usually I wouldn't allow a patient in his condition any visitors. But I've been notified that this case is… special."

Sherlock wasn't listening. The detective was already out the door. The team found it best to follow, quickly. "We'll try to keep the damage to the minimum", David promised. It spoke volumes that the long suffering nurse didn't even try to inform them of limitations to the amount of visitors.

What the team discovered when they reached the room halted their haste effectively. For a remarkably long time they wondered if they were seeing things. Apparently not.

Mycroft looked horribly vulnerable, hooked on all the tubes and machinery. Their focus, however, locked on Sherlock. For almost a full minute more the detective stood by his brother's side, staring at the man intently. Without a doubt taking in every single trace to his condition, perhaps even trying to convince himself that yes, Mycroft was still alive and fighting. Then, finally giving in to the fatigue, the man slumped to the chair that'd been dragged beside the bed. He was possibly asleep before he was all the way down.

"Do you guys think we can leave them alone long enough to get some coffee?" Penelope whispered, desperate hope in her voice. They did, letting the two have some privacy. After downing the beverages they remained there for a remarkably long time, keeping watch on the brothers Spencer left behind.

Mycroft's time in the gray hue was disturbed by occasional, brief flashes. He had no idea if they were real or not. Not that he would've been in the state of body and mind to care much.

Did someone cry? Certainly not. He could've sworn that he felt a hand holding his but dismissed it quickly. Was that Sherlock, hissing that he was a moron? Yes, sounded about right. He actually tried to reach out towards the familiar voice but didn't quite manage to.

Eventually it was a voice he couldn't quite recognize that reached him. Was it John? Anthea? Emily? "… already lost far too much, Mycroft. Don't you dare leave Sherlock. Don't you dare…!"

Mycroft would never know that he woke up in earnest only three hours later.

The team had lost track on how many days had passed. Two, possibly three. Mycroft was asleep more often than awake, his body trying to regain its strength. While the rest of the team took turns keeping an eye on them Sherlock never left. The brothers were bickering or smart-mouthing each other more often than not but the team noticed the subtle signs. Sherlock ate, only small meals but still, in his own silent way encouraging Mycroft to do the same. With each passing day some of the tension melted away from the younger man. The shadows haunting Sherlock's eyes didn't disappear, though. Nor did the shadows in Mycroft's. But the older brother was fighting. His broken heart kept beating stubbornly.

It was Saturday and for once they were all present when there was a knock on the door. In a moment a sandy haired, tired looking man peered in. Seeing them all the arrival coughed nervously, obviously not having expected the audience.

"Lestrade?" Sherlock frowned. "What are you doing here?"

Very quickly the team and DI Gregory Lestrade were introduced. Not initiated by Sherlock, of course. The DI sighed. "I've been looking for you." Sorrow appeared to the older man's eyes. "Anthea… told me that you'd be here."

Sherlock's jawline tightened. Guilt and rage flooded to the man's piercing eyes like a tidal wave. "I assume that you have a reason to be here?"

The everyone's surprise the arrival pulled out a flash drive. They'd already seen the laptop. "I… John, he gave me this a week before… Well. He told me to deliver it to you if…" The DI shifted with discomfort. "I thought I'd wait until your return, but… Maybe this is something you need. I haven't taken a look so I wouldn't know." Greg gestured towards the laptop. "The nurse said that it should be safe to use this here now…"

"Just get on with it", Sherlock snapped, his whole body starting to shake.

At first the BAU-team wondered if they should leave, if they were intruding on something private. But in the end they were rooted to the spot. There was only one file on the flash drive, a video. Greg clicked it open after a great deal of hesitation.

The first thing the camera had managed to capture was a screen-full of an oatmeal colored jumper. It took a moment before the static settled enough for them to hear John muttering. "… this bloody thing on?" Eventually confident that yes, it was, John stepped back, settling to a chair. There was a strange look on his face. Furiously determined, sad, nervous and apologetic all at once. The dark shadows around his eyes and his paleness intensified the affect. The doctor cleared his throat. "It's… It's been two weeks, from Mary. And Sheryl." The man was forced to clear his throat again. For a moment moisture lingered in his eyes until it gave room for something harder than any steel. "We're at war now, Sherlock. I've been to one so I should know. Moriarty's back and… Well, we both survived him once. Sort of." The memories were obviously beyond painful. John looked away from the camera for a few seconds before continuing. "And I don't count on us being quite that lucky a second time. So… I'm making… this, just in case.

John looked into the camera and to Sherlock it felt like his friend had been right there with him. "After… the fall Ella told me say the things that I'd meant to. Well, this is the last bloody shot I'll get." John smiled, just a little bit, although he still looked incredibly sad. "Thank you, Sherlock. For giving me a purpose. For reminding me what it is like to be alive. Whatever may have happened by the time you see this… Get into that bloody thick skull of yours that I never, ever regretted any of it. Not really. Not for even a second. It's thanks to you I made it this far. And don't you dare have regrets, either. It was amazing while it lasted. But nothing lasts forever.

John sighed heavily and leaned forward. "I'm so, so sorry for leaving you like this, Sherlock. But at least I'm not abandoning you all alone. There are so many people around you. A million cases that you'll jump right into. The world still needs its only consulting detective, whether you believe it or not." John swallowed and held a pause to gather himself. "You died for me once. Remember? And you were ready to die a second." The former army medic snorted just as Sherlock's eyes widened a fraction. "Please. Don't imagine that I didn't figure out what that air-strip meeting was all about. Unlike you seem to think I'm not a complete idiot. You've died for me and killed for me. Now I'll be a selfish arse and ask you to do a one more thing for me. The most difficult thing." The doctor attempted to smile but it didn't come out quite right. "Live for me, Sherlock. Live, don't just exist because I know how boring you find breathing. I know that it feels so, trust me I know, but the world didn't end even if I'm not in it anymore. You survived everything you did for a reason. Spend every day like you're around for the both of us. And for Sheryl, too, because I know that she would've loved you. Remember that I'm eternally grateful that you're still in the world. And that I got to be a part of yours.

With those as his parting words John got up even though his feet didn't seem entirely steady and did a one last military salute. The man then marched his way to the camera and was about to switch it off before peering in once more. "Oh, and Mycroft? Because I know that you've somehow gotten your hands on this, too. Take a good care of Sherlock, you hear? Because he needs you, no matter how little he likes to admit it. I… I did my best. Hopefully until the end. Now it's your turn." If John's expression was anything to go by it was the biggest and most important task he'd ever given anyone. The utmost sign of trust. Then the doctor did switch off the camera, leaving them staring at the black screen.

For almost a full minute it was completely, utterly quiet and still. It was like time itself had frozen. The only thing that remained was the echo of John's words.

"Well…", David breathed out at last. The man blinked quickly. "That was…" He trailed off.

"… John." There were tears in Greg's eyes that the man didn't even try to wipe away. "That… That was very John."

Apparently that was all Sherlock could handle at the moment. Before any of them could do a thing the detective stormed out of the room. Slamming the door as dramatically as possible.

Greg sighed and was already about to get up. Surprisingly, however, it was Penelope who moved first, wiping her eyes furiously. "I… I'll go", she announced, her voice breaking a little. "I've been meaning to… have words with him, anyway."

Derek frowned. There was some tension on his shoulders. "Are you sure?"

Penelope's moist eyes showed understanding. "He's just a man in pain, chocolate thunder. I'll be okay."

It took longer than it should've before Penelope found Sherlock. She wasn't a field-profiler. How was she supposed to know to try the hospital's rooftop? The tall Brit stood there, uncomfortably close to the edge. Even from afar she could tell that he was trembling.

Penelope approached slowly. Dread swell in her stomach, forming a solid ball. She opened her mouth but apparently she'd been spotted already. "If you came here to…"
Penelope didn't pause to listen why he imagined she came. She was more focused on showing him. Because there was something she wanted to give him, from the bottom of her broken heart.

Before Sherlock had the chance to protest, or to see it coming at all, she'd wrapped her arms firmly yet tenderly around him. Holding on with absolutely all her might. Without saying a single word she offered every little bit of affection she could muster.

They lost Spencer. But they still had the chance to look after his brothers. She knew that it was what the youngest Reid would've wanted them to do and she'd be damned if she let him down.

At first Sherlock tensed up immensely, obviously looking for a way out of the situation. Then, swiftly and without a warning, it seemed that all fight left the detective. When the tall, thin form in her arms began to shudder it took Penelope a mighty while to realize what was going on. Without knowing it she became the third person who'd seen him really, genuinely cry.

Sherlock's tears were those of pain. But not all ache is a purely bad thing. Because this immense agony came from the much too certain knowledge that one had to move forward. Penelope understood well because her own tears were the same.

While the rest of the group fled the room, without a doubt to gather their thoughts, David stayed behind. Although the look on Mycroft's face hadn't changed he noticed how pale the man had grown. "Are you alright?"

Mycroft nodded slowly, not looking at him.

David gave the government official a few seconds. When it became apparent that the man wouldn't talk he did. "Quite the video, John left." He sighed, feeling the impact of those words under his own skin. "I wish that I got to know him better. I have a feeling that I would've liked him."

There was no mirth in Mycroft's smile. But at least it was a honest reaction. "I… could say the same about Spencer."

David shrugged, even when his heart was breaking in his chest. "If you stick around I could help you get to know him", he offered. Not even trying to hide the subtext. He gave the other man a few moments to process. "It sounds like you and Sherlock could us a little time-out right now. Feel free to stay at my mansion for as long as you like."

Mycroft gritted his teeth so hard that it had to hurt. "Thank you, for the offer. But… I'll be here for a while. And… You haven't seen Sherlock on a withdrawal. Or what he can be like. He's…"

David smiled. "… impossible? That's alright." Then, growing far more serious, he leaned forward. "Mycroft, you two are Spencer's brothers. And that makes you our family as well. We… We may have failed him. But we'll fight for the two of you for as long as we can."

When Mycroft looked at him David could tell that he was being profiled. Exhausted yet incredibly sharp eyes stared at him, prepared to spot each and every sign of insincerity. Eventually the verdict was made.

So slowly that it took someone highly experienced to notice Mycroft relaxed, sunk more heavily against his bed. After a couple of seconds of fight the man's eyes drifted closed. Almost as quickly he was fast asleep.

Feeling better than he had in ages David relaxed as well, leaning back on his chair. After considering it for a while he closed his eyes. If he really focused he could almost feel Spencer right there, keeping watch with him.

The next few months passed by stunningly quickly, in a bizarre hue. As had been apparent from the moment they lost Spencer the BAU-team couldn't really work together anymore. Not when every time they saw each other they felt the failure.

Alex was the first one to leave, almost as soon as Mycroft was discharged from the hospital. The only goodbye she gave them was leaving her badge to the desk that used to be Spencer's. They understood. And they still stayed in touch as often as they could.

Almost at the same time Emily stated that she'd have to return to her new life in England. Which didn't mean that she would've been leaving them behind. They lost her once, too. They'd be damned if they let it happen again.

Penelope's departure from the team was a bit more of a shock. After a few suspicious phone calls she announced that she'd be joining Cooper's team. Derek didn't take the news well but seemed to calm down significantly after a long, private talk with her. The rest of the team would never know what she said to him but whatever it was, they were glad she did.

Then, a couple of months later, came David's retirement. He'd been thinking about it since Spencer's death. Then they faced a case where a man who looked just like their lost youngest ended up being brutally murdered just seconds before they reached him. He knew that his time had come. He owed himself and Spencer better than to become shattered completely by all the death and all those horror stories.

Aaron's announcement of returning to being a prosecutor was, perhaps, the biggest shock of all. Even though he'd been subtly preparing Derek and JJ for it. All of a sudden those two were the only remaining members of the former team, one of them a brand new unit chief and the other heavily pregnant.

Late one evening they stood in Aaron's former office, trying to prepare it for Derek. Upon opening one of the drawers JJ gasped. Derek was instantly alerted. "What's wrong?"

JJ couldn't quite bring herself to talk. Instead she showed, tears welling up in her eyes. It was a framed photograph. Despite all the time passed there was no dust on it.

It was of their team from when it was still whole. Before Ian Doyle momentarily stole Emily. Before the Moriarty twins stole Spencer. All of them smiling, including Aaron albeit barely visibly. Derek couldn't remember when it was taken but it seemed to be one of the better days.

Derek swallowed hard. Barely managed to keep his voice from breaking. "Why do you think he left it behind?"

JJ smiled through her tears. Even if there was some sadness in it. "Maybe… Maybe it's his way of saying that even though we're not together anymore… We're still a family."

As they embraced nearly desperately, the picture and JJ's furiously kicking baby between them, Derek found himself breaking down bit by bit. Each amazing, cherished memory flashed through his mind, tugging at his heart. Trying to mend and break it all at once. A stunningly clear flash of Spencer's smile helped him regain his breath just when he'd lost it. Finally, finally, there was a tiny bit of reassurance in his heart.

None of them, Spencer included, had gone anywhere, not really.

It wasn't an easy battle for the remaining two brothers, either, despite the BAU-team's help and care. The monster in the back of Mycroft's head kept rearing its ugly head over and over again, rendering the man beyond exhausted. The withdrawal burned Sherlock like the purgatory.

The grief wasn't the only problem. They'd both been through a massive trauma. Along with their still lingering physical ailments they had a ton of mental scarring to cope with. Flashbacks, nightmares and full blown night terrors were common occurrences. Mycroft dreamt of being buried alive, deaf and sightless, of failing both of his brothers. Sherlock dreamt of John and all the others dying, over and over and over again.

Stunningly enough they actually agreed to stay with David. It wasn't easy on any of the three. The brothers reminded David a little too much about Spencer. David's presence and sadness filled the two with unneeded guilt. They clashed often. Well, Sherlock clashed with the other two. While the younger brother raged and roared, spewing out the poisonous feelings coursing through his veins, Mycroft just closed into himself, bottling up everything and closing everyone out. Slammed shut like a clam. Until he couldn't.

It started innocently enough. He was planning on calling an associate at work but accidentally dialed Spencer's number instead. Apparently the team had forgotten to take care of one tiny thing because he was directed to a voice mail. " … Spencer Reid. I can't get to the phone right now but …"

That was all Mycroft could listen to. With a howl of such fury and agony that shouldn't have been human he hurled the phone at the nearest wall. Then proceeded to demonstrate the full force of his grief to the entire exercise room, where he'd been running on a treadmill.

Which was how Sherlock found him. At first the younger man stared at the chaos. Then focused on him. "Alright?" Receiving a nod the detective went on. "Chinese?"

Mycroft nodded again, faintly this time, and slumped bonelessly to the floor. Somehow feeling far lighter than before. Sherlock sat beside him, so close that he could feel his brother's warmth. Neither of them spoke while they waited for the take-away food and for the storm to pass by.

A few hours later David came home from a case that'd taken longer than expected. Instantly he got a feeling of dread and instinct led him towards the training room. The sight there made him wonder whether he should laugh, groan or run for his life.

The whole room looked like a tornado had swept through it. And there, in the middle of the chaos, sat Sherlock and Mycroft. Eating Chinese. Actually eating, both of them.

With a faint smile on his face David closed the door and left, deciding that his guests would clean up the mess and that he needed a stiff drink.

After five full months the brothers decided that they couldn't just hide in America forever. It was time to go home. Time to try and live. To perhaps even move on.

When Mycroft arrived to work Anthea was, as predicted, the first person he met. "Welcome back." She looked at him with critical, understanding eyes. "Are you alright?"

Mycroft actually thought about it for a few moments. "Yes. I'm alright." It was the first time in ages he meant it. "Now, I'm under the impression that I have a lot of work to do."

Mrs. Hudson had left Baker Street to Sherlock. On the early morning of his arrival Sherlock hesitated behind the familiar door. He was already about to turn away when a sudden bout of strength filled him. After a deep breath he opened the door and entered. "Into battle…", he murmured before closing the door behind him.

That night he didn't delete the messages he'd left to John's blog during the darkest of his days. Declarations of hatred. Pleas. He'd meant them, at least partially. Just like he meant what he posted that night. These were words John deserved.

'Thank you. I miss you.'

Three weeks later Sherlock appeared to his first crime scene since the beginning of the horror story. Of course Greg noticed him muttering to John every now and then. Of course the doctor was still there, even if only in spirit. Surely John would know better than to just leave Sherlock.

It wasn't until later he realized that Sherlock wasn't limping anymore.

It was a rather late evening when a heavily drunk William Reid stood on a cemetery, staring at the candle he just lit with misery filled, glassy eyes. Perhaps Erik Collins should've felt pity on the pathetic creature. He didn't. Instead he approached.

William glanced towards him when he lit a candle. Erik was the one who spoke first. "You here for someone special?"

William gulped laboriously. The man seemed taken aback by the scars on his face. "For my son." There was a long pause. "You?"

Erik's voice was deceitfully calm and even. "I'm here for my son, too." He sighed, making the flame dance violently. "It's a shame how we can fail our children, isn't it?"

William nodded gloomily, not looking at him. Tears gathered to the man's eyes. "I just… I wish that I would've had the chance to earn his forgiveness. That… That I would've been able to make it all up to him…"

A flash of murderous rage crossed Erik. He let none of it show. We both failed him. "I know exactly what you're talking about", he admitted. Then, with a great amount of grace, he turned and began to walk away. "Maybe you'll get to make amends sooner than you expect."

Erik had no task left in the world but this one. No reason left to live. Once this was done he'd disappear like the ghost he was and wait for the devil to claim him.

William's body was found the following morning. A car crash. It was falsely classified as an accident.

And then came the day JJ went into labor. After nine and a half hours of long, hard and painful work she and Will finally got to greet their new baby girl. JJ wasn't entirely sure what the tears were for when she kissed her daughter's head, pulling the newborn as close to her as she could.

It wasn't much of a surprise that one by one the members of the BAU-family began to gather into the hospital room. All of them thrilled to meet the newest addition to their gang, more than one of them teary eyed. After the nightmare they'd been through they could all use some hope, some promise of a brighter tomorrow.

As soon as they saw the baby's midnight blue eyes they could tell that they'd found exactly that.

"Oh my gosh…!" Penelope cooed. She'd robbed the little one from her parents and didn't seem to have any intention of returning her anytime soon. "She's perfect!"

Derek chuckled. "You've said that five times already, baby girl." It wasn't a complaint.

"Are you going to keep the baby all to yourself or are the rest of us going to get a turn sometime soon?" Alex joined in.

With the rest of them focused on the child JJ took her time to observe them.

The past few months had been nothing short of hell on Derek but now, finally, the man began to appear genuinely happy. At least a small amount of self-hatred would probably always be there but it was no longer suffocating the man. The rest of them didn't mention the new tattoo they all noticed on his wrist, a series of numbers. The date of Spencer's death.

Penelope's new job, the change of environment, had done her good. She'd most likely never be quite the same, bubbly person she once was but she was coping better than well. She once confessed to JJ that she still lit a candle for Spencer every evening.

Aaron's face had gained several new lines. But his shoulders weren't so very hunched anymore. He'd never forgive himself for what happened to Spencer but at least the weight of the guilt wasn't crushing him anymore.

Alex seemed to have made the most out of her own new start. Still she seemed to be grieving. Was it any wonder that Spencer left a permanent imprint on her?

In a bafflingly short time a stunning amount of silver had sneaked its way to David's hair, as though a symbol to the grief in the man's heart. But at least his smile didn't seem forced anymore. A few weeks earlier he published a new book. It was dedicated to Spencer.

JJ herself didn't have it easy, either. Sleepless nights… Tears… Henry's grief over losing his favorite uncle… It'd been devastating. At times she'd been sure that she'd lose her family. In the end, however, she gathered herself on the last minute. Reminder herself that Spencer wouldn't want her to lose her boys. Love was stronger.

She never heard the knock. That's why Emily's voice startled her. "Is there room for a few more visitors?"

Looking up she discovered that Emily wasn't alone. Sherlock and Mycroft also lingered by the doorway, appearing uncertain whether they should enter or not. JJ found herself smiling radiantly. "Always", she answered, firmly yet gently.

While Emily was busy greeting the rest of the team Sherlock approached the baby. It was impossible to tell what went through the man's head in those long seconds that seemed to stretch. Twice he seemed to contemplate touching but decided against it.

Eventually JJ decided to have pity on him. "You're allowed to hold her, you know?" She went on as soon as his lips opened for a protest. "I insist it."

At first it was awkward. Sherlock appeared so tense and hesitant that for a while JJ felt sorry for him. Then, very slowly, he seemed to get used to the feel of the baby and relax. Or perhaps it was something else entirely he was getting used to. JJ knew that he never got to hold John's baby. Maybe this was a tiny consolation.

"Have you thought about names?" Aaron inquired.

"Well…" JJ and Will exchanged a look. "There's a name that we've been thinking about. But… We'd like to get all of your approval." She looked towards the baby, feeling something flutter in her chest. Then her eyes focused on Sherlock, who still didn't seem entirely sure what to do with the infant. The sight was absolutely adorable. "Joan Spencer LaMontagne."

It took a couple of seconds before it truly sunk in. When it did Sherlock stared at her for the longest time. Appearing almost frozen.

"Uh… Sherlock?" Derek waved his hand in front of the man's eyes. "You okay?"

Sherlock didn't seem to notice. There was something none of them had ever seen before in his eyes as they landed on the baby who was making quiet, happy noises. The detective gulped before nodding. "Yes. I approve."

JJ couldn't help but smile at that, even though she felt close to crying. Again. This time it had nothing to do with hormones. "Good." There was so much more she would've wanted to say but didn't dare to. Even a single more word might've broken her composure entirely.

By the room's doorway Alex glanced towards Mycroft. What she discovered astonished her. For the first time since she met him there was a small yet genuine smile on the government official's face. For a few stolen minutes the worry lines were gone from the man's forehead.

Mycroft, of course, sensed her looking. Fortunately he appeared more curious than defensive. "What is it?"

Alex shook her head, unable to fight back a smile of her own. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Wherever Spencer and John might be, the entire group liked to think that they were smiling down at them.

While the others kept fussing around the baby, whom Sherlock refused to let go of, Will whispered to JJ's ear. "Spencer promised that he'd get Henry into Cal Tech. Where do you think Sherlock's going to get Joan?"

JJ leaned against Will and grinned, looking at the brothers. What a fascinating duo Spencer brought into their lives. "I don't know", she admitted. "And I can't wait to find out."

The End.

A/N: Oh wow… That was long! But I felt like they all deserved it. Reid and John included. What an emotional roller coaster we've had!

It's been a mad, mad ride! THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, to you all for joining in! All those reviews, listings and love… They seriously warm my heart! So thank you! You've been absolutely fantastic.

I really hope that this was a worthy closure to the story! And see. It did end on a happyish note. (smirks sheepishly)

Once agan, THANK YOU! Who knows. Maybe I'll see ya again?

Take care!