Sparks of red flashed into the darkness.

Pain.

Forever Pain.

It was never ending.

"John? Why?" Greg's voice echoed in the dark, "How could you let this happen?"

John flailed in the dark, finding it hard to breath, to remember what was up or down.

"No! Greg! I never meant-!"

The wailing of the banshee interrupted his plea. She appeared before him, crying tears of blood. She opened her mouth again and-

"No!" John gasped awake and frantically studied his surroundings. White walls assaulted his eyes and a softer white curtain cut him off from the rest of the room. He was in the infirmary.

Sherlock, hearing John's cry, jerked awake in his chair and nearly fell out of it. He collected himself and went to John's side, taking his hand.

"John it's alright, your in the infirmary, you collapsed after Sebastien Moran was caught," there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. He ran a hand across John's forehead, "What happened there John? How-How did Greg die?" He hesitantly asked.

John sighed and swallowed before answering.

"It was a portkey to a graveyard or a cemetery. Moriarty was there waiting for us. Well, for me, he- he just killed..." he couldn't finish as more tears filled his eyes. Sherlock squeezed his hand encouragingly.

John took a deep, shaky breath and continued, "He used the cruciatus curse on me four times. He said he wanted to drive me mad and then send me back to you. He said he wanted to make you pay for sending his father to Azkaban, he blames you for his father committing suicide." John looked away, "I couldn't let him do that to you, so while he was too busy gloating, I grabbed Greg's wand and shot him with a stun spell and took Greg and the cup and I landed back here. Well... you know the rest," he finished.

Sherlock's lips shook at the possibility of not only loosing John, but having him returned as a babbling mess of insanity. He did not think he could bear to ever go through that.

After John had collapsed and he had taken him to the infirmary. Sherlock had gone to his brother, who would undoubtedly need him after such a crushing blow.

What he had not expected was for Mycroft Holmes to collapse into his arms, a crying sobbing mess.

Sherlock could only stand there stunned holding his mess of a brother. He had never seen the older Holmes act like this. He had always been the ice man, the stone cold and unemotional one, but this reminded him that his elder brother was only seventeen and he had just lost his soulmate. Sherlock tried to imagine loosing John, but each time he tried his mind simply refused to comprehend it.

He led his brother away where Professor McGonagall offered them her office. They both went in and had tea.

"I'm so sorry boys, " she said, her voice barely a whisper, "I wish-," she looked away, her lip trembled. She had known the troublemaker Greg Lestrade. She had been fond of his courage and intelligence. "This was never meant to happen."

Both boys simply nodded and left.

Mycroft seemed to be retreating into himself. He no longer cried, only stared ahead. He told Sherlock to go to John and tell him he loved him and also to never let him go.

"I only wish I had said it once more," Mycroft had whispered.

Misery had consumed Sherlock as he waited for John to wake up.

Though he had never admitted it, he had thought of Greg as a friend, a close and trusted one. A friend he valued and cared for.

He felt sadness, but selfishly he was also undeniably happy.

John was alive. Perhaps a little beaten, but alive.

He felt guilty for his happiness but he could not help it. It just was.

"Sherlock?"

John's voice brought him back to the present. He gazed steadily at John, his heart in his throat. He sat on the bed and leaned close, he kissed John as if it were his last. When he pulled away, he ignored John's questions and simply pulled him close. He hugged him desperately, closely.

"I love you," he whispered, "I love you so much."

John sat in a daze for a moment before he finally responded by wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. "I love you too Sherlock, more than anything," John said.

/?/

"Today we lost a friend, a student, and a partner," Dumbledore's voice was solemn and sad. The banners that hung from the ceiling were black.

All heads were bowed in remembrance and sorrow, there were no words beyond these. No sound pierced the silence.

Many kept a distance from Mycroft, but not Sherlock or John. They stood next to their friend and brother and morned silently together.

The service ended with many well wishes and condolences to the three. Sherlock and John accepted them with a nod of their head, but Mycroft just ignored them.

They packed their things and prepared to get onto the train.

John was already in their car waiting for Sherlock, but he couldn't meet him there yet.

"Are you coming back," Sherlock asked his brother. They stood at the train station as others bustled around them.

Mycroft looked away, "No. I will find Moriarty myself and kill him." His voice was dead and filled with pain and determination. Nothing could stop him when he was in this mood.

Sherlock knew with a grimace that Greg had been his heart, and now Mycroft was going after the one who had ripped his heart from him.

Mycroft made to turn away but was stopped by his younger brother grabbing his arm.

"Be careful Mycroft."

The elder Holmes' eyes reflected surprise, but it was quickly gone replaced by a cold dead gaze.

"I will, as should you brother, take care of John. You don't know what you have until it's gone," with that he disappeared into the crowd.

Sherlock watched him go until the conductor called for the final passengers to board. Quickly he gathered his things and got onto the train.

He found John sitting in the cart they had first met in. His eyes were out the window and he did not turn to face Sherlock as he entered.

"So, is he going after the bastard?" He asked without looking back.

"Yes, he is and when we graduate, we can help," Sherlock said sitting next to his love, his life.

John finally turned and curled into Sherlock.

"I love you John," Sherlock whispered into the blond hair.

"I love you too Sherlock."

The train jerked to life and began its return journey home.

Thank you all for every comment and favorite. This has been fun and difficult to write, but I enjoyed it none the less. Have power and "Live long and prosper."