Thank you for sticking with this to the end! A/N's and thanks at the end.

It took a while for John to remember that he was actually at home and in his own bed. He and Ellen had worked at their plan until gone midnight, and his evening had been rounded off with an in-depth discussion with Mycroft and an argument with Sherlock as he travelled home in a cab, centred on the genius needing to rest, and as a consequence he was unbelievably tired by the time his head finally hit the pillow.

Ellen had stayed at the ops centre and would, he realised as he squinted at the clock, already be collating the last of Sherlock's information.

Running downstairs John slipped into the kitchen, switching on the kettle as he grabbed his phone and dialled Ellen's number.

"Good morning admin office, how can I help you?" Ellen said in a bored Essex accent.

"Hi, it's Dr Watson. I'll be in as usual this morning, but I need you to organise a locum to cover this afternoon for me. I have to take some stuff to my flatmate who's recuperating from a recent injury. I have cleared it with the clinical manager, just forgot last night to ask you to make the arrangements."

Still sounding bored, Ellen promised to arrange it.

That bit over, John made a pot of tea, and while it brewed went for a shower. Mindful of the cameras and listening devices all around the flat, he treated the snooper to some loud and slightly tuneless rugby songs, before strolling back through the flat naked to pour his first cup of tea.

A while later, dressed now and finishing his breakfast, John grabbed his phone, wallet and keys, and headed out of the door, trotting across the road and walking briskly along to Baker Street tube station.

Slipping in amongst the crowd of commuters, the blond doctor pulled out his mobile and sent a multiple recipient text that would reach Sherlock, Mycroft, and every member of his team.

'On my way – JW'

xXx

One by one the team arrived at the ops centre, each one travelling separately to avoid attracting attention. By the time John arrived they were all assembled, the desk had been pulled up next to Jamie's computer desk, and mugs of tea and coffee were being poured.

An assortment of mumbled greetings and half joking digs at the 'last man in' rattled around the room, and were batted back and forth with the ease of old comrades. John grinned and swiped H's mug of tea, grimacing as he took a swig of the overly sweet brew, then pulled up a chair next to Ellen and called the team to order.

"End game starts here." He said calmly, looking round at the faces around the table. "First let me say I have appreciated the help you've given us up 'til now." He paused and gathered his thoughts. "You've thrown yourselves into this, purely out of friendship, but I have to ask if you're sure you want to continue. Anyone who wants to withdraw from this particular theatre of war, just say so now – no one will hold it against…"

"Sorry? Did you really just say that John?"

"Um…" John looked nonplussed at Pat, who was glaring at him across the desk.

"Would you like to repeat that ridiculous statement? I mean, seriously?"

John looked around again, seeing Pat's outraged expression reflected on the faces of the others.

"Not good?" he asked.

"Very not good." Ellen clipped him round the back of his head. "No-one wants out, so let's get down to business, right?"

"Right." Taking a deep breath John smiled a little sheepishly. "Okay…um…the endgame then. Ellen and I have put together a plan, using the sparse intel that Sherlock has managed to put together about Marc Banks."

He turned to Jamie.

"Jim should have set up a time lapse link to the recorded images from the CCTV that has been watching Bank's rented house. It should be no more than 5 minutes behind real time, I need you to scroll back through and pick it up at oh-eight-40 this morning. We know he was in the house at midnight last night, I need to know if he left after I made my call to Ellen this morning at oh-eight-fifty."

As the young man's fingers brought the computer to life Ellen picked up the briefing.

"John's flat is bugged, as you know, so we've been careful about using phones there, but not so careful that it's obvious that we know. We've made one or two pointless calls, him to me, me to him, so today's call shouldn't be particularly unusual."

"I mentioned going to see my flatmate, so we just need to know whether he is moving on the flat with the intention of following me…."

"Or if he has other plans to get to the safe house. My belief is that he will want both brothers there, so he can take them both out at the same time. It wouldn't surprise me if he wanted to take John out too, although he wasn't part of the original investigation." She looked at John thoughtfully. "What d'you reckon?"

"He's not stupid enough to think John's not been involved," Dan spoke up. "So at the very least I'd assume he'd want him dead for the hell of it."

"Some of us know how he feels." Pat said darkly.

"Thanks." John muttered with a grin.

"Okay, we'll add that into the plan." Ellen glanced at her watch as she spoke, and then reached into her bag and pulled out a small microphone/speaker box and cable, which she attached to her phone. "Time to ring Holmes."

While Ellen dialled the number and punched in the code, drinks were refilled, and the team listened as the mechanical voice requested identification. John said his name clearly into the mic, and immediately the line cleared and he could hear voices.

"John, at last."

"Yeah, sorry to keep you waiting Sherlock."

"You're not late John, my brother is simply impatient." Mycroft sounded as if he'd had this conversation a dozen times already this morning."

"I know, but according to his parting shot last night he was going to be sitting there all night, waiting by his phone." He drew a deep breath and continued, before either brother could respond, by introducing the team around the table.

"Mycroft, I assume you have Jim and Georgie with you?"

"And Anthea." Came the firm reply.

"Okay. And Sherlock, just you at that end?"

"Well who else would you expect? Mrs Hudson?"

"Ah, so it's you and Mr Snarky then." John snapped. "Put him back in his box Sherlock, we don't need any sarcastic distractions."

A cough covered a laugh at Mycroft's end of the discussion which was matched by several in the ops room.

"Okay, this is what we have come up with…."

xXx

"So, are we all clear on what we're doing and where we need to be?"

This was greeted with affirmations from the ex-military personnel in two of the three call locations.

"And Mrs Hudson is being taken to a safe place, along with that damned nurse? Shan't be sorry to see the back of her – God help Médecins Sans Frontières."

"That damned nurse as you call her is the reason you can take part in this, brother. John, you will ring me…?"

"When I get home and have thrown a few things into a bag for Sherlock. As far as I can tell he's still watching and listening, so I'll ring you and ask for the address, I'll repeat it, write it down, then agree to meet you there at around fourteen hundred hours. That way, he knows where all three of us will be at a certain time." John sent up a silent prayer as he spoke, hoping that he and Ellen had got their calculations right. "I'll get a mini cab to take me out to the address. The team will be there already, either in the house or hiding close by." He paused, and then added quietly "This time we choose our own killing ground."

"Will you have someone monitoring CCTV?" Anthea spoke for the first time.

"I'll still be here." Jamie leaned over from his place at his computer. "I'm out of the running for combat zones."

"Excellent. I'll be feeding you live CCTV images from the front of the house, while I keep watch on the rear. Between the two of us we'll have all angles covered."

With a quick check around the participants to make sure there was no more they wished to discuss, Mycroft ended the conference call.

Around the tables at the ops centre there was a tangible air of expectancy.

Jamie leaned back towards his computer. "By the looks of things our target hasn't left his bolt-hole since your call this morning John."

John grimaced. "I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad one."

"It's out of our hands," Pat said pragmatically pushing himself out of his chair. "I'll go get my car; we'll need to get going. You want a lift to Baker Street?"

"No, I want you well away from there. I'll get the tube home."

Pat nodded, grabbed his jacket and slipped out of the door.

"You need to make that call." Ellen reminded John as she packed away her box of tricks into her backpack, checking the other equipment she had stashed in there.

Rubbing a hand over his face, John pulled out his phone and punched in a number.

xXx

Reading the caller ID on his phone, Greg Lestrade got a sinking feeling in his stomach, and with the barest of pauses he answered the call.

"John, please don't tell me there's another body. That last one…"

Hi Greg. No, not this morning. This is more of a heads up, and a warning."

Greg groaned.

"I knew it. A warning?"

"We are going to draw our shooter out – or rather, offer him Sherlock, Mycroft and myself together, a time, and a place."

"What…are you mad?" Greg's yell carried to the officers in the outer office, and several heads turned to stare. Lowering his voice he continued "Are the three of you nuts or just suicidal?"

Sally came and stood in the doorway, and the harassed DI waved to her to come in and shut the door.

"I'm hopeful that the three of us will come out of this relatively unscathed Greg, but I do need you to do something for me."

"Wait John, Sally's in the office, let me put you on speaker, is that okay?"

Receiving an affirmative response, Greg attached his phone to a docking station, pressed a button, and suddenly the room was filled with the sounds of background chatter, furniture moving and John's voice asking people to keep the noise down.

"Okay, what's this favour you need?"

"Well, it's a couple of things actually, one's a favour Greg, but the first is more a safety measure."

John went on to explain where Sherlock was currently staying, and that they were drawing Banks to the house with a view to stopping him from hurting anyone else.

"The thing is Greg, Danny, Pat and quite a few others will be watching the area. The last thing we want is some sharp-eyed granny reporting them and bringing the local constabulary into the area. Banks will use them as target practice."

"You said two things." Sally flicked a glance at Greg, frowning.

"Yeah, the other thing is that we need to keep this as quiet as possible – out of the press, and preferably out of the courts. Technically this is a government operation, so whatever happens, we need you to ensure that the local boys and girls know to stay out of it. Is that possible – oh, hold on a moment…."

Placing the phone in his other hand and covering the microphone, John shook hands with each member of the team as they left, wishing them good fortune, then turned back to the conversation in hand.

"Sorry mate. Can you do that? There's likely to be bloodshed, though hopefully not complete carnage."

"I could contact the local Chief Super…."

"Might be better if we go to talk to him in person Sir," Sally interrupted. "We can be on hand if any of those sharp-eyed grannies ring in." there was a faint edge of sarcasm in her voice, but her eyes were alight with interest.

"Good point Sally. What do you think Greg? You'll need to move soon, my team's just left and they'll meet up with more of Mycroft's people there."

Greg stared at Sally, knowing she was right, but knowing too that they were going out on a limb.

After a moment he said "Would you be prepared to ask Mycroft for the same guarantees on repercussions for Sally as you did for Pat and Danny?"

"And for you Greg, neither of you should suffer for helping us out."

"Right, we'll ring them as we go. Keep in touch John."

"Thanks Greg, I will – if I can." John cut the call before the Detective Inspector could ask what he meant, and then he grinned down at Jamie Robson and held out his hand. "Thanks for your help Jamie; it's been a pleasure and a privilege working with you."

"Yeah," the young man shook the proffered hand. "Tell me that again over a pint when this is over."

"Will do." Throwing a brief salute John headed out of the door.

"Good fortune, Captain." Jamie said softly, but there was no-one there to hear him.

xXx

John glanced at his watch as the mini cab turned onto the A1000, and noted that the team would by now be in place and Mycroft should be arriving any moment at the safe house in Brookmans Park.

Ahead and on their right was Hadley wood, and as they drew closer they were flagged down by the driver of a broken down vehicle. Immediately John's senses were on alert.

"Don't stop." He said, but his driver was already slowing down.

"But…" The driver suddenly stared, horrified, as the stranded motorist stepped out in front of the car and pointed a gun directly at him. He stopped the car.

"Put your hands on the dashboard, Dr Watson." Marc Banks wrenched open the driver's door and waved his gun, indicating that the man should get out.

"Let him go." John spoke calmly, while all the time he was wondering how he could alert the others.

"Oh, I intend to."

John didn't like the sniper's smile.

"You, you can go. That way – over there, through the woods."

Struck dumb with terror, the driver backed away, his eyes on the gun all the time. As he reached the edge of the woods he turned to run. A single bullet entered the back of his head and exited through his forehead – he was dead before he hit the ground.

Cursing the law that insisted he wear a seat belt John knew he wouldn't be able to move fast enough either to save the innocent man or to disarm Banks. He hissed in frustration as the gun turned towards him, coming to rest against his temple.

"Now Doctor, I want you to slowly take your gun from your waistband and hand it to me." As John did as he was told, Banks tutted. "Really, I thought you took an oath to save lives, not take them."

"Not my gun, belongs to my flatmate."

"Army issue." Banks ran an expert eye over the weapon. "What is Sherlock doing with a weapon like this?"

Dropping the gun into the rigid pocket in his door he moved back slightly. "Right, now undo that seat belt and hold it out to me."

John did as he was told, and Banks, with a few swift moves, used the webbing strap to immobilise his captive's hands before slipping the clip lock back in its cradle.

With the doctor unable to stop him, he then searched roughly through John's pockets, pulling the mobile phone from his jeans. With a smirk he dismantled it, throwing the battery into the treeline, and the body of the phone into the gutter beside the broken down vehicle.

Sliding into the driving seat, Marc Banks laid the handgun in his lap, restarted the engine and slipped the car into gear.

"Let's join your friends, shall we?"

xXx

In Whitechapel, Jamie watched as a sleek black car pulled up onto the drive of the house, and three people alighted. Jim and Georgie from the front seats, their eyes automatically reading their surroundings before Georgie opened the rear door for Mycroft, and they disappeared smartly in through the side door. Out of sight of these men, Ellen and H were watching and waiting.

X

In Whitehall, Anthea watched as Pat and Danny, with one of Mycroft's own men, melted into the shadows along the tarmac covered rear access road, finding cover in overhanging trees and bushes, standing in the recessed back gates of neighbouring gardens.

X

In the Hertfordshire Force HQ, Greg and Sally sat, relief in every aspect of their posture, as Chief Superintendent Milne ensured that local offices responded to calls regarding suspicious people in the Brookmans Park area by relaying them directly to his office. He offered the services of two of his most senior officers to work with the Scotland Yard officers, but this was politely refused – the fewer people actually involved with this the happier Lestrade felt. Now they sat and waited.

X

In the car, fast approaching the safe house John stared out at the passing scenery, and wondered how on earth they could have missed this possibility.

xXx

Ellen had found herself the ideal spot for surveillance – in a house opposite the safe house. It was detached, and high hedges sheltered the front door from the eyes of the neighbours, so when she received no answer to her knocking and ringing on the doorbell she slipped quietly around to the back of the house and expertly let herself in.

The house was tidy, and judging by the breakfast things piled in the sink the owners were out at work. The value of the house put them in the 8 'til late high end career bracket; and Ellen smiled to herself, knowing she would be out of there before they came home, and they would be none the wiser. With one brief look around she moved upstairs, and positioned herself discreetly in the window of the master bedroom.

H on the other hand was sitting in Pat's car outside of a dental surgery, newspaper open at the crossword page, looking as if he was waiting for a dental patient to come out. Nobody paid him any attention, which was just how he wanted it to be.

Both team members watched as Mycroft's car arrived, and from her elevated position Ellen could see her team mates get out of the car and enter the house.

"My my boys," she chuckled to herself. "Don't you scrub up well?"

With a quick glance up and down the road, she sat down on the pink padded window seat and switched on her concealed mic and earpiece.

"Hunter 1 in position, can we have a call through please guys."

"Hunter 2, hearing you loud and clear Hunter 1." Danny responded.

One by one H, Pat, Jim and Georgie all responded, Georgie following up with a sit rep from inside the house, detailed enough for Ellen to be able to picture the layout and where everyone was placed.

After a brief reminder to keep the airwaves open and only to use the radios when absolutely necessary, Ellen settled in to wait.

xXx

A soft buzzing sound alerted the intelligence specialist to an incoming text, and she pulled her mobile from her pocket, expecting it to be John letting her know he was almost there. Instead, as she opened the message she swore softly, and reached to switch her microphone back on.

"Hunter 1 to all units, we've got a spanner in the works. My contact has just been advised that a handgun was also made with the capability to take those specialist bullets. Be prepared for anything guys, Hunter 1 out."

A glance down the road showed that H had got the message, as he looked in her direction and gave the barest nod of acknowledgement. With a flick of her thumb she forwarded the message to John and slid her phone away again.

X

In the house Jim and Georgie stiffened as Ellen's message came through. Sherlock noticed their change in demeanour, but turned away to scowl at his brother.

"How much longer? This place is suffocating me." He declared petulantly.

"Your impatience is suffocating you brother." Mycroft sat back in his armchair. "We wait on John."

"Well let's hope he gets here soon."

"Amen to that." Jim muttered, earning him a raised eyebrow from the elder Holmes brother.

"And what news," Sherlock turned his searching gaze on the two soldiers, "have you just received?"

X

"Lestrade, we may have an issue." Milne looked down at the report that he had just received, and then raised honest brown eyes to the two Met officers sitting in the small meeting room. "We have a body on the edge of Hadley Wood, male, shot through the head."

The older man paused, and Greg waited.

"We need to secure the crime scene, and would appreciate if one of you could attend with our SOCO team, just to make sure the victim isn't known to you."

"I think we should assume he's connected," Sally glanced first at the Chief Superintendent, then back at her boss. "A shooting here – too coincidental."

"Yeah. You okay to go Sally?"

She nodded. "Let's hope it's not…" Her voice trailed off.

"Right. Get going, keep in touch."

X

A red Ford Focus with an aero roof light proclaiming 'B-Line Mini Cabs' drove slowly along the street, and H watched its progress in his wing mirror. As it passed him he expected John to make eye contact, but instead the blond doctor stared rigidly ahead.

"Hunter 3 to Hunter 1, I think we may have a problem, standby." Casually H put his paper aside, watching as the mini cab drew to up to the kerb and slowed to a halt across the end of the driveway.

After a lengthy pause, John climbed out from the passenger seat, making a great show of rubbing at his wrists, his eyes looking alternately at the floor and at the man who alighted from the driver's side of the car.

"Hunter 1 to all units, Banks is in play and he has John, I repeat Banks has John. Heads up everyone."

X

With swift and decisive movements, Jim and Georgie turned off their communications devices and removed them, shoving them hastily into a drawer while the other occupants of the house were set in a frozen tableau of disbelief.

The raucous chime of the doorbell shook the still air, and forcing himself to move as if there was nothing untoward, Jim went to open the door.

"John." He stood back, feigning surprise when the second man forced his way in, holding a gun to John's head.

"No sudden moves now, not unless you want your friend here to pay the price." Banks smiled pleasantly as he spoke, magnifying the threat in his words.

John looked his friend steadily in the eye, blinked slowly, and then moved his eyes to look towards the lounge.

Jim started to turn towards the room but Bank's voice stopped him.

"Backwards, hands in the air."

Following instructions he re-entered the room, his body and John's creating a barrier between the gunman and Georgie's drawn gun.

"I suggest you put your weapon on the floor, very slowly." Banks spoke clearly. "Then, you can step up behind your friend here, reach around…that's it, get nice and cosy. Now take his gun and put it on the floor with yours."

"Bastard!" Georgie hissed as he placed the second gun on the floor.

"Oh no, I assure you my parents were married, were they not Mr Holmes?"

Mycroft had started to rise, but Banks waved him back into his seat.

"All of my background checks appeared to back that statement." The Government man relaxed, folding his hands across his stomach and crossing one leg over the other, his expression one of indifference. "However I don't believe Mr Dunn was speaking in the literal sense."

"By the time I've finished with Mr Dunn he won't be speaking in any sense at all."

Georgie tensed as if preparing to attack, then caught a look in John's eyes and hesitated.

"Leave them out of it."

"Oh! The doctor speaks again!" Banks feigned shock, then snarled "Don't. Remember what happened the last time you asked me to let someone go…"

John held his tongue, his eyes narrowed as he rapidly tried to work out how to give the team time to get into position. Fortunately Sherlock unwittingly came to his aid, engaging the sniper in conversation.

"I suppose we should be flattered brother that Banks here has gone to all this trouble for us."

"I'm just repaying a compliment – after all, you stuck your nose into my business, had me imprisoned – what did you think I would do when they let me out? Just go off and try to find myself a mundane, boring job?"

"You had a perfectly good job, well paid, working for my brother…"

"And now," Banks seethed, "You and your brother shall both be well paid!"

xXx

"Right," Jamie's voice came softly through the phone. "There's sufficient cover at the front for you to get into the driveway and move under cover of the cars around to the side entrance."

"Okay. What about the front of the house?"

"No go El, that Anthea tells me all the glass in the house is bulletproof – no point in us trying to shoot him through it, although I'm not sure it would hold against his specialist weaponry."

"Not a chance we can take. Stay by the phone and keep your eyes on us." Ellen killed the call and opened her radio link.

"Hunter 1 to all remaining units. Units 5 and 6 will now be radio silent, however let's keep information and radio traffic to a minimum - we're going for the back-up plan."

At the rear of the house Pat was briefing Mycroft's man, as he would be left as the sole watcher at the back of the property. Danny made his way into the garden to meet up with Ellen and briefing completed, Pat left the government man to secure the area and made his way to the drainpipe which led up to the window that Sherlock had, by previous arrangement, disabled the alarm and left open.

X

H watched from his position in the car. The secondary plan giving him responsibility for intercepting any police units that should unwittingly arrive on scene, but he itched to be in with the others – more than anything he was keen to meet the brothers that had inspired such hatred and such loyalty. His eyes sharpened and he pushed other thoughts from his mind as he saw that the team were making their move.

Keeping low, Ellen moved silently to the door at the side of the house where Danny was already crouched, checking his weapon before returning it to its holster. Using hand signals to communicate they moved in unison, checking through the window that all was clear before slipping quietly into the kitchen and easing forward to crouch by the lounge door, listening into the conversation in the other room.

X

The atmosphere in the small meeting room at Hertfordshire Force HQ was tense with an impending sense that the unthinkable was about to happen. Reports about the shooting were coming in thick and fast.

The car on the side of the road was confirmed as stolen from the Kennington, and the dead man identified as a mini-cab driver. Brief enquiries confirmed that he worked for B-Line Mini Cabs, and that his last booking had been to pick up Dr John Watson from Baker Street and take him to Brookmans Park.

Sally had stayed with the SOCO team, in the hopes of finding a clue to the state of John Watson's health, and was partly satisfied that there were no signs of a struggle, no blood other than that which stained the ground and trees around the driver's body.

The nagging worry at the back of Greg's mind was that he'd heard nothing from John, and to call him now might put his life in danger, and this left the Detective Inspector feeling as if he was adrift in a rough sea, with no safe port in sight.

Working with the police comms team, he set about working on a press release that was more smoke and mirrors than hard fact – Mycroft Holmes could pick the pieces of the resulting mess – anything to keep the public calm.

X

The flow of vitriol from Bank's mouth finally slowed, and he ordered Sherlock to his feet, tightening his grip on the doctor's arm and pushing the barrel of his gun against John's neck to remind him that non-compliance was not an option.

"Now Mr Holmes, first you get to watch your brother die, then his flatmate. If you try to stop me, you'll watch your employees crippled beyond repair, after which time I might just put them out of their misery." He paused. "And then you die."

There was the briefest moment when John caught sight of the slightest movement of the kitchen door, and at the same time Banks was stepping slightly to his right and bringing the gun round to aim at the consulting detective.

Grabbing Sherlock's half empty mug of tea John twisted and flung it in Banks' face, pulling out of the man's grasp and stepping between him and his friend.

The room erupted in a frenzy of noise and movement. Banks, blinded by the still warm liquid, fired, the bullet throwing John backwards into Sherlock and knocking the pair of them to the ground. Georgie and Jim threw themselves in front of Mycroft.

From the doorway to the hall Pat burst through. At the same time Ellen and Danny were swarming through the kitchen door. Three guns fired, and Banks fell, dying, to the floor.

xXx

Epilogue

221B Baker Street, now stripped of Banks surveillance equipment, was playing host to the official debriefing. Ellen sat on the couch, representing John's team. Sherlock and Mycroft were in the armchairs; Lestrade straddled an upright chair and rested his arms along the back of it.

For the past hour the four of them had discussed the handling of the police commissioner, the media, and arranging some pay for the team. Sherlock had had little to add to the conversation, other than to make a snarky remark about being made to sit it out in the safe house.

"And you know that was for your own good." Mycroft sighed, having had this conversation several times since his younger brother had been allowed home.

"So you all keep telling me." He turned his head in the direction of the slender platinum blond. "Haven't you got anything at all to say John?"

Ellen looked down at the blond head that lay in her lap, eyes closed, and a stupid grin on his face that broadened as she stroked her fingers through his short blond hair.

"Sounds like you've got it all covered."

"And you are going to make the most of that little scratch, hmmm?" Ellen laughed down at him.

"Along with the bruised rib, I thought I might."

"You were lucky John." Lestrade said, his voice sober.

"No, I wasn't," John opened his eyes, swung his feet down from the couch and sat up, ruffling his hands through his hair. "I wasn't lucky, I had a good team with me. El here supplied the latest in bulletproof technology. Given the type of weapon and the close quarters I'm glad she did."

Mycroft rose. "Well, I need to get back to the office." He offered his hand to Ellen, who rose to accept it. "It was a pleasure to meet you Ms Baker."

"Are you not coming with us? John promised the guys a drink, we're meeting in the Black Bull in Whitechapel Road."

"Yeah, c'mon Mycroft – you can hardly ignore the guys now can you?" John added his voice to Ellen's invitation.

Greg and Sherlock shared a look, the former trying to keep a straight face at the thought of the starched and upright British Government drinking in a pub like the Bull.

The same thought must have crossed Sherlock's mind, as he suddenly stepped up beside his brother.

"I think Brother, that it would be unbelievably rude of you to refuse to share a drink with the team. Just think, Mummy would be so disappointed at your display of bad manners."

Mycroft's mouth opened and closed several times, but for once in his life he had no easy answer, so when Lestrade slapped him heartily on the shoulder and suggested he get his driver to take them, it was in a slight daze that he agreed and led the way down the stairs.

Following them towards the door, john placed a restraining hand on Sherlock's arm, and when the younger man looked down, grinned and said

"It was almost worth it, just to see your brother agreeing to drink in one of the roughest pubs in Whitechapel."

An answering grin split Sherlock's face, and the pair carried on down the stairs to join the others in the sleek black car. Tonight was going to be one they'd both remember for a long while.

A/N: Thanks to MapleleafCameo, Thedragonaunt, Amanda Do'Urden, starrysummernights, Book Girl Fan, ITell, MIU, MrsPencil, Hummingbird1759, Ennui Enigma, SailOnSilvergirl, 8annie81, Marylouleach, Lucy36, Arty Diane, Socalrose, Rose O'Sharron, Sarahabruce85, hjohn302, Marye, EJ 12212012, ConsultingAngelWarlock, Calatia, Patemahlah21, Erisah Mae, and if I've forgotten anyone, please forgive me

And a very special Thank You to my grandmother, for inspiring my favourite OC in this story and lending her your name – Ellen Baker – you were a brilliant woman