John followed Mrs. Hudson back out across the graveyard, moving slowly. He kept his breathing even no matter the effort the uneven ground was forcing on his returning limp. He stopped at the curb and lifted his chin as a black car pulled up alongside.

It sat idling as Mrs. Hudson made a face at him from across the way. John shook his head and, with careful determination not to pull too hard on the door in a fit of anger, he got in the car.

The woman sitting inside was softly smiling and her curly blonde hair fluffed out around her head. "Hello, John." She held out her hand to him. "It is nice to finally met you."

John blinked. "Mycroft lets you talk more than the last one." He shook her hand.

She smiled widely. "Oh, that boy doesn't let me do anything. Also, he doesn't know I'm here quite yet."

"What?" John looked out the window at the passing streets and then back to her still smiling at him. "Who are you?"

"An interested party." She leaned back in her seat and ran her hand through her curls. "I can definitely see what Sherlock likes about you."

"Likes?" John narrowed his eyes at her. "Why are you using the present tense?"

The car pulled to a stop. She gestured towards his door. "Everything will be alright, John. Do please get out now."

John climbed out of the car and stared at the door to 221B in front of him. "No."

She patted his shoulder. "Come along, dear."

He refused to move even as she unlocked the door with a key from her pocket. "Do you even have a name?"

She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him again. "Of course I do. Come in and find out what it is."

He frowned and took a few deep breaths before starting for the doorway. He stopped as another, or maybe the same black car, pulled up. Lestrade stepped out.

"John?"

John shook his head, stomped into the foyer, and started his way up the stairs. It took him longer than it had before and he knew it was just going to get worse. Lestrade stayed behind him, not crowding, but close enough that John couldn't have fallen back down the stairs if he'd tried.

The mysterious woman was sitting on the couch, fingering a tattered book with a blue cover. She smiled at them as they came through the door. "There you are. Limp getting worse?"

John grunted and swallowed against the lump in his throat as he dropped into his chair. Lestrade settled on the arm of the other chair and frowned.

"I thought the car was Mycroft's doing."

She tucked the blue book into her coat pocket. "Mycroft is on his way. Grumbling in his head no doubt."

John cocked his head because the book didn't show a bulge like it ought to in a coat that form fitting. "You still haven't said who you are."

She smiled and spread her arms out along the couch's back. "I haven't at that." She dropped the smile. "I'm Dr. River Song." There were footsteps on the stairs and she turned her head towards the door. "Finally."

Mycroft stopped in the doorway and stared. His umbrella hung dangerously from the tips of his fingers for a moment before he hooked it on his forearm. "Mummy? What are you doing here? Is Father with you?"

"Your father's busy parking."

Mycroft very nearly snorted. "That could take all day." He crossed to the armchair Lestrade was perched on and sat down.

John looked between Mycroft and the woman, far too young, woman on the couch. "Mummy? She's your Mummy? What the hell are you on about?"

She raised her eyebrows as she looked at Mycroft. "Neither of you told him? Shame on you, Mycroft Holmes."

"No one believes us unless Father is available."

She made a face as she nodded. "I suppose there is that."

"Told him what, exactly?" Lestrade shifted to lean against the desk.

Sherlock stepped into the open doorway, drenched from head to toe. "About traveling in time. I did tell John once, but it turns out he was at work at the time."

John missed the next few minutes as he tried to clam his breathing. He would have resorted to putting his head between his knees, but he couldn't because Sherlock was trying to peer into his face and saying his name in a terribly worried voice. A small part of John's mind noted Sherlock's hands were very wet on his arms.

Lestrade was shouting with Mycroft's soft voice as punctuation in the background somewhere, but John couldn't understand it over the roar in his ears and Sherlock's shouting. He blinked and turned his hands up to grip Sherlock's forearms from underneath.

"Not dead then?"

Sherlock looked even more worried. "It will work then? You believe I die?"

"Will work?" John laughed a bitter, choking laugh that turned straight into horrible gasping sobs.

Sherlock stared at him until River appeared at his shoulder.

"Hug him, Sherlock. Like we used to practice, if you please."

Sherlock pulled John towards him even as he turned his head to talk to his Mum. "Will it help?"

"It will help John immensely. And you, if you'll quit being so stiff about it." She straightened up and rolled her eyes. "You take after your father far too much for comfort sometimes."

John squeezed his eyes shut and just sobbed into Sherlock's shoulder. He felt he was quite due for a good cry about this whole mess.

Sometime later John stood on the landing of their stairs and stared down into the foyer at the big blue box just sitting there placidly. "I've gone mad."

Mycroft appeared at his elbow. "Not nearly, John." He hooked his umbrella's handle over the railing. "That is the TARIDS. Ah, and there's Father now."

A man in a suit and bow-tie stepped out of the box and pulled the door shut behind himself as he looked up at them. He waved and smiled widely. "Hello, I'm the Doctor. You must be one Sherlock has been going on about."

John automatically waved back. "Hi."

The man raced up the stairs, past them into the sitting room, and twirled in place on his heel. "Lovely flat." He took a deep sniff of the air. "Smells like crumpets. Don't like that smell anymore." He whirled around and smiled at River even as he backed up towards the kitchen. "Oh, hello, River."

"Hello, Sweetie." She slipped her hand in her pocket as she moved towards him as the Doctor backed away. "So where are we then?"

The Doctor backed into the kitchen table. "Hitler in a cupboard?"

She stopped and frowned. "I thought you'd be a bit further on. Sherlock's screaming got to me in Stormcage so I didn't wait on you. You had better not use this as an excuse not to take me to see the Singing Towers of Darillium, Doctor."

The Doctor's face froze for a bare moment, then he was stepping forward and spinning River about. "Never. I said I'd take you and you'll go. I promise. Now. About Sherlock. I caught him, but it seems from John's reaction and Greg's," He turned his head towards Lestrade. "Can I call you Greg?" Then he turned back and kept going without waiting for an answer, "yelling that I'll need to drop Sherlock a short distance to the sidewalk."

"You? You can't do precision parking without pissing the TARDIS off. I'll drive."

They wondered away into the kitchen still arguing as John dropped to sit beside Sherlock on the couch. Lestrade was sprawled in John's normal chair and Mycroft hadn't moved.

"So that's your parents?"

Sherlock looked at him out of the corner of his eye from where he was sitting up straight on the edge of the couch. "Yes, obviously."

"Oh, obviously. One is too young and the other is probably too young and clearly terrified of the first one."

Mycroft chuckled and Sherlock glared at him.

"I am still mad at you." Sherlock relaxed back into the couch.

Mycroft lifted his chin. "I understand."

"Mummy will have our heads if we fight about it now."

An eyebrow twitched as Mycroft looked towards the now quiet fight playing out by the refrigerator. "You will, of course, allow me to make it up to you." He cocked his head. "Is the swimming pool still in the library?"

Sherlock steepled his hands under his chin. "Yes, I didn't get your favorite shelf wet, more's the pity. You can deal with the reporter and make sure the flat is bug free from now on."

Mycroft inclined his head and then the brothers smiled just a bit at each other. "I never intended to give him so much information."

Sherlock flicked his shoulders and dropped his hands to his lap. "He won't be bothering anyone again."

Lestrade leaned forward. "What?"

Sherlock pressed his palms together. "He shoot himself to ensure I would have to jump."

John frowned. "That makes even less sense than that horrible last phone call. That was a horrible way to leave a suicide note, Sherlock."

Sherlock frowned. "The phone call, right. I didn't have much of a choice. Moriarty had you, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson targeted. If I wasn't seen falling from the roof, all three of you were to be killed."

Lestrade swore under his breath. Mycroft's expression hardened. John blinked rapidly a couple of times and then he drug Sherlock sideways into a hug.

"God, Sherlock." John looked at the ceiling as he felt the trembling in Sherlock's body. "You couldn't say, could you? And I yelled at you." John closed his eyes and tucked his head so he could kiss the top of Sherlock's wet head. "Never again, Sherlock."

Sherlock pulled away sharply. "What?"

John grabbed him before he could get off the couch. "You heard me, Sherlock. You are not going to ever put yourself in a position where you are knowingly lying to me to protect me. I will shot you, I swear."

From the kitchen, River laughed. "Oh, I like him."

Sherlock stared at John. "I thought you would be quite angry with me."

John nodded and stood up. "Oh, I am. Furious in fact and I'll probably punch you at some point, but right now I want to see inside the blue box." He looked at the man leaning against the kitchen table. "If you please."

The Doctor smiled and pushed away from the table. "Of course, my pleasure."

John probably enjoyed Lestrade tripping over his own feet just inside the door a bit too much. He stared around himself at the huge control room as Sherlock bounced past them to grab up the towel from the railing near them.

The Doctor was chattering about the things the TARDIS could do, but John was too busy watching Mycroft ran his finger tips across things like he'd missed them terribly to really notice what the Doctor was saying.

"You should visit more often." John watched Mycroft consider and dismiss it in a blink of an eye.

"I couldn't possibly. Father isn't usually available for family visits when he is in London. And never for the holidays."

Sherlock throw his towel at his brother's face and pulled the small rubber ball he'd been playing with at Bart's from his pocket. "Usually, Father is too busy saving Christmas to have a proper holiday."

Lestrade whipped his head around to stare at Sherlock. "Saving Christmas?"

"Quiet now." River breezed past them and opened the door to show the sidewalk of Bart's below them. She shut the door. "Do hurry up, dear."

Sherlock blinked as the Doctor hugged him awkwardly. Sherlock turned and clasped Mycroft's shoulder for a moment before moving forward and looking straight at Lestrade.

"I didn't know your first name because you have always been Lestrade to me."

Lestrade pulled Sherlock into a hug. "I'll be more careful about listening to Donavon in the future."

Sherlock snorted as he pulled away. He turned to John.

It took all his willpower to keep from punching Sherlock, but John did it. "Don't you ever do this to me again, Sherlock."

"Never." Sherlock looked at the front door and then back to John. "I..."

"Time!" The Doctor yelled from the console. "You're got three seconds!"

Sherlock exchanged looks with John one last time before opening the door and stepping up to the edge. River stood beside him and gave him a gentle shove at the right moment. Sherlock stepped out of the door and fell the last few feet to the sidewalk.

In the distance John's voice could be heard yelling Sherlock's name and then River pulled the door shut. She leaned against it as the Doctor twirled something on the console.

"Remember to leave the brakes off!"

"I know what I'm doing! We're only double parked."

John stared at them. "Wait. How's there so much blood if Sherlock didn't hit that hard?"

The Doctor moved around the console as Mycroft made an adjustment to a faucet fixture sticking out of the console. Lestrade dropped to sit on the jump seat and John stepped up to the railing as River moved to push the Doctor out of the way.

"Probably that young woman with the blood bags waiting by the bench, didn't you see her?" The Doctor looked up from the console towards John and then back down again. "The ball in the armpit trick is very handy."

River rolled her eyes and pulled the monitor towards herself. She hit a button to turn it on and then froze. "Oh, my God. He sent you video? All I got was a screaming of coordinates."

The Doctor reached up and snapped off the monitor. "He'll want to have it for later. I just recorded for him because he said it was too far away from his own computer and that he'd need it later." The Doctor flipped a switch. "And we're here." He spun away from the console towards the door.

River followed at a more sedate pace, shaking her head with a fond expression.

Mycroft pulled the monitor around and switched it on. He tapped a button and it started playing a video of Moriarty sitting on the roof's edge with a song playing tinnily from his phone.

John grimaced as they watched Moriarty taunt Sherlock with what he'd done and setup to have done in his absence. John flinched when Moriarty pulled the trigger on himself. Sherlock's gasping breathes could be heard on the audio and John wondered if that's what River was talking about Sherlock's screaming.

Uncontrolled breathing when not doused with a fear inducing drug was screaming for Sherlock. Terrible screaming. John reached up and twisted the knob to turn it off as the video leaned over the edge to show the distance down to the sidewalk.

John heard the door open, but Mycroft's sudden gasp was enough to make John not turn. He stared at the blank monitor until Sherlock stepped past him trailing blood on the floor. River shooed the Doctor to follow Sherlock up the stairs and deeper into the ship. They disappeared while arguing about weither or not the deerstalker should be considered cool.

John blinked and stared down at the drops and smears of blood on the floor. "Not dead."

River leaned on the railing and pointed at Mycroft. "Go get a mop. The least you can do is clean this up, Mycroft."

Mycroft nodded and disappeared through a side doorway John had missed seeing before.

River looked up at John. "You know why he talked too much to Moriarty?"

John shook his head even as he waved his hand at Lestrade to let him know John would explain later. "Haven't the faintest idea."

"Mycroft is proud of Sherlock."

John snorted and watched in fascination as the Doctor came back into view at the top of the stairs.

The Doctor clapped his hands together. "Well, it has certainly been a busy day, hasn't it? Anyone need a nap? I've got plenty of bedrooms, there's even one with bunk beds." He spread his hands wide. "Lots of hammocks as well. Would you like to lay down for moment?"

Suddenly, John was so very, very tired. "Just a moment."

Lestrade was suddenly right beside him. "Come one, I'll help you."

John tried to smile at the Doctor as they went past him. "Thanks." He really wasn't sure if managed to smile or if he just imagined it. He let Lestrade pick the room. It was plain, but there were good quilts on the beds. There were two beds and a lovely looking chair between them.

He let Lestrade steer him to the closest bed to the door. John face-planted into the even-better-than-it-looked quilt. He sighed as someone tugged on his shoe. John wiggled and shifted until the shoes were gone and John was tucked in under the lovely quilt.

He certainly hoped none of this was a dream.

John woke with a start and bolted upright in his bed. He breathed hard as he stared around his room. His room. He'd promised himself he'd not come back to Baker Street until he was ready. John rubbed his hand down his thigh. Then the half-healed rope burn on his ankle reminded him.

John grinned to himself as he fell back. A time machine. Chasing all over the world with Sherlock after Moriarty's web of left behind criminals was going to be the death of them both. Moriarty worked so hard to kill Sherlock only to have John nearly die because of Sebastian bloody Moran.

He hadn't liked the man very much when they'd first met in the bank. Now John had every reason to justify it since the bloody bastard had tried to string him up and gut him.

John shook his head and reached out to pick up the ball from his nightstand. Sherlock's ball. The one he'd used to cut off the blood to his arm to make John think he'd had no pulse. John still wasn't sure if he'd been meant to be delayed by the bike knocking him down or if that had just been the blind running on his part.

"John?"

John started and put down the ball as he looked up to see Sherlock standing in his doorway. "How do you always know when I'm awake?"

Sherlock sat down on the edge of John's bed and John scouted over to give him room. "I hear you. I have Father's hearing."

John nodded. "Your parents are a bit more scary than Mycroft."

Sherlock smiled at him. "He's actually the younger of us. Father really can't land precisely without Mummy or the TARDIS doing it for him."

John snorted. "I never thought I'd met someone more awkward with emotion than you." John pulled Sherlock down beside him on the bed. "I thought you were dead, Sherlock."

"Then my plan worked..."

John pinned him down with a hand to Sherlock's chest. "Screaming your Mum said. Screaming and a horrible video that made Lestrade grey. I was mad at you for pulling such a stupid stunt. Only I couldn't be certain, could I? I had been knocked down and hit my head."

Sherlock laid his hand over John's on his chest. "I didn't want you to doubt me."

"I never doubted you. I'd watched you pick apart so many things by then, Sherlock. You were a clout for thinking I'd fall for that horrible phone call."

"Yes, well..."

"Just shut it." John pulled Sherlock onto his side and shifted himself so they were facing. "When you first walked into the TARDIS bloody and starting to bruise from hitting the pavement I watched your brother pale and Lestrade grind his teeth and all I could think was as soon as you'd cleaned up I was going to kill you." John tightened his hand into a fist in Sherlock's nightshirt. "Then I remembered your Mum saying something about your Father taking her to some singing falls thing and when she couldn't see it his face was so horribly sad. And I quit being mad."

Sherlock searched his face and John let him, softening his expression as Sherlock kept looking.

"I'd miss you. I did miss you so much." He buried his face in Sherlock's chest. "I'm still not gay, though."

Sherlock laughed and John joined him.

Sherlock let himself into the TARDIS and waited until his father was done soldiering before he cleared his throat.

"Ah. Sherlock. Come hold this for me."

Sherlock held the indicated cable and watched his father touch another cable to a live wire and the whole ship jolted.

"Sorry."

Sherlock sighed. "I don't understand John."

The Doctor looked up at him. "Most people don't understand humans. Is it something specific about John or something general to the whole species?"

"He saw you looking sad about Mum, but he didn't say anything about that part. Just that it made him stop being mad at me."

"I have to take her soon. At least before I lose this face." The Doctor sighed and leaned back to make his chair swing. "It hurts already. Still."

Sherlock rubbed his fingers along the cable he was supposed to be holding. "Does she ever say something that hurts you because she doesn't know what you know?"

"Sometimes." The Doctor took the cable from Sherlock. "Did John say something when he didn't know?"

"He got a call that Mrs. Hudson had been shot. I wouldn't go with him."

"Ah. Tried to get him out of the way of danger and it didn't quite work." With a sigh, his father stood up and grabbed his hand. Then he led Sherlock up to the console. "It never quite works. You'll just have to get better at letting him help."

Sherlock touched the cold tap with the tip of his forefinger. "He nearly died when I did that."

"Nearly is all that counts." The Doctor braced himself against the console. "I still haven't figured out how to get River out of the computer once she's in it. Not without killing myself and she'd kill me if I did that."

Sherlock smiled. "John said the nearly the same about me." Sherlock tapped his fingers against the console in time to a song he had in his head about John. The one he'd not written down or played on his viloin yet. "Why can't you just download them without using your head's memory? Storage must have gotten better at some point in history. Then convert them back to flesh later."

The Doctor blinked. Slapped himself in his forehead and then grabbed Sherlock up into a hug. "Brilliant. I should have thought of that." He frowned. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Sherlock suddenly understood why John had been touching him constantly since that day. "It hurt too much to think about."

The Doctor quit grinning and wrapped himself around Sherlock again. "Take him and go visit your grandparents. Rory and John can trade war stories."

Sherlock smiled into the Doctor's tweed covered shoulder. He'd love to see John's face when he worked out Sherlock's grandparents were younger than his Mummy.