The hard plastic chair digs into Sherlock's body in the most annoyingly uncomfortable way. His hands are clean now, but his mind supplies him with the image of blood anyway. There is a warm ghost sensation coating his hands and he rubs them together constantly trying to will it away.

Mycroft had held his hands under the icy water of the sink after observing that Sherlock was shaking too badly for the task and every clumsy attempt to clean them ended in him splashing himself. Watered blood hitting his face left Sherlock to staring in the mirror, anguished. That was the coup de grâce for Mycroft apparently, because the next thing he knew his hands were gently clasped in his brother's and being cleaned with soap and water. Mesmerized, Sherlock had watched, hoping that the last piece of John he would ever hold wasn't now swirling down the drain.

Afterward, Sherlock was left grasping the edge of the sink fighting to keep his breathing under control. Mycroft stayed close by. An abnormal comfort, but Sherlock was grateful for it. He had known for a while that without John, holding himself together would be a difficult task.

Glancing up, Sherlock had caught eyes with Mycroft in the mirror. He hadn't seen Mycroft look this worried in…well, a long time. "Dr. Watson will be fine, I assure you," Mycroft had said with a deep sigh.

It was as close to sentiment as Sherlock had seen him get. In fact, this whole night was. Obviously, Mycroft was willing to do or say anything at this point. The shock from witnessing such uncharacteristic behavior in his brother had visibly been displayed on his face.

The strain of holding himself up had become too much at that point and Sherlock found himself sliding down a porcelain tiled wall that he had thankfully gravitated towards. He hugged his knees and placed his head on top of them.

"Would you like to be alone?" Mycroft had asked, from above him.

"Would you let me be, if I wanted?"

"Absolutely not."

Sherlock had smiled for the first time that night, connecting eyes with his brother who smiled tightly as well.

After sitting in silence for a while, Greg had come in to make sure everything was alright, giving them a perplexed look. Now, Sherlock was in between his brother and Greg, the three of them staring at that damned clock. Sherlock tried to let warmth from the paper cup of tea radiate through his body and settled in to wait.

Thank you so much for all the comments, follows and favorites on this story! Part 4 will be coming soon and will hopefully be longer!