This happened between John's fainting and everybody's listening to the detective. I hope you enjoy it. Reviews are very appreciated and welcome:-)

Timelinewise: chapter two Friends protect each other happens first, and then Chapter one Empty House, and Chapter three at the same time.

60 minutes ago

It was an ambush. The DI hadn't expected it. He stuttered out, "Police", but his feeble voice didn't impress the man. He gestured the DI to go upstairs at a gun point. Lestrade did as instructed. Unarmed. No choice. One thing was clear: the guy who ambushed him was a well-trained agent. Mrs. Hudson was squatting near John's old bed. Her eyes opened wider in obvious surprise.

"Inspector. Why are you here?"

"John called me. Are you okay?"

The agent near the window turned her head and asked in a low voice,

"John? Who is he? Explain."

"My former tenant."

"Our friend. He's on his way."

The woman nodded and whispered to the armed agents. She hurried out.

Sherlock's bedroom

The bed was moved to the wall. There were a couple of monitors installed. One screen showed Baker Street, the other, the second floors of the opposite building, and the third one, the windows of 221B: a shadow of the detective was visible with a violin. Holmes brothers were staring the screens intensely when the woman entered the room. After a minute both brothers' faces turned paler.

"John's coming?"

"Why today? Do you think we have to abort the plan?"

"We can't, Mycroft. We've got only one chance. Or it may take a few more years to track him down."

Sherlock pondered over something. He blurted out,

"He'll use a cab. At this time, traffic jam. Need to control the traffic. The earlier he gets here, the safer he is."

"To upstairs."

Mycroft gave a few instructions to the woman. When they were left alone, Mycroft saw fear in his brother's face. Sherlock whispered,

"Moran's going to be here any moment and John was his target."

"We'll take him off the scene fast. John's visit will make Moran believe more that you were standing near the window."

Mycroft saw Sherlock's shoulders stiffen and heard his breathing shorten. The detective had imagined many possible reunion scenarios yet this wasn't clearly one of them, not this fast. His little brother wasn't prepared at all.

"Sherlock. John decided to live for you. He will forgive you eventually."

The younger brother sensed a pitiful stare from Mycroft, and changed the topic.

"The mannequin... we need to turn it around at an irregular interval."

"Yes, they're doing it. The curtain is almost drawn. The window is rather dusty. He won't notice."

Soon they heard the downstairs door close. Both of them held their breath and listened, while John was unglamorously taken to his old bedroom. Then they waited.

Cracks. Shots. Mycroft relaxed a bit after a radio call,

"Moran's dead."

"Let's go."

The two brothers hurried out of the room and ran to the opposite building, where Moran was shot. Special agents were busy, checking and securing the scene. They checked the body of the sniper. The last member of Moriarty's inner circle, if small, was eliminated. The closure was near.

A few security and military people approached to consult with Mycroft. Sherlock darted back to his flat. When he entered the building, he heard John's footsteps and Lestrade's trying to calm down Mrs. Hudson. It was the moment that he had hoped and dreaded all along. Sherlock Holmes moved step by step to upstairs, racking his brain to find a proper word to say. Mycroft was on his heels.

Greg Lestrade froze on the spot with a gasp. His landlady started to sob. John was turning around when he heard the voice, "John."

"Is he all right?"

Sherlock's nervousness was palpable in his voice. Sherlock stared at John's pale face.

"He just fainted. He will come around soon."

Lestrade said, with his eyes fixed on the face of the detective. His fingers pinched Sherlock's cheek rather hard without a warning. Frowning, the detective complained,

"Ouch, what are you doing?"

"So you're not a ghost."

Mrs. Hudson wrapped Sherlock's hand with hers. Sherlock was almost like her own son. Her heart was torn apart piece by piece when she heard why Sherlock had to die.

"You, naughty boy. You really shouldn't have done it."

"All is well, Mrs. Hudson. I missed you. I'm sorry."

New tears welled up in her eyes, She grudgelingly let go of his hands and wiped away tears with her sleeves. He was forgiven already: the landlady managed to smile and he smiled back sheepishly. She stood up and said,

"I'll get some brandy and water. It might help him."

She hurried back to her flat to get the brandy.

Moments ago, when Lestrade helped Sherlock to move the doctor to the sofa. Lestrade was just opening his mouth. Sherlock simply said, "Later. Greg." as if he knew Greg was bursting with questions. Actually that was the first time that the detective called the DI with his first name: that shut the DI up.

Two agents took photos of the room and cleared away the mess. Paper covered the cracked window, shreds of china were cleaned up, and they took the mannequin out of the room.

Mycroft walked in when John stirred. The doctor's eyes blinked, and registered his dead friend and Mycroft. Even the great Sherlock Holmes failed to anticipate what happened next. John sprang up and crushed to the older Holmes with a great speed. The impact knocked both men on the floor and John punched Mycroft's face twice. Everybody froze. Lestrade pulled John apart from the British government. Mrs. Hudson shrieked in alarm as she came back with a tray of brandy and water. Mycroft staggered on the armchair while covering his bleedy nose with his hankerchief: his face was nothing but an amusement and pain. John freed himself, and growled manacingly,

"You knew he was alive all along and didn't say a damn word to me."

"For your safety, John."

"What?"

"John."

Sherlock called from behind. The doctor turned around and shot an icy glare at his flatmate, jerking out words at his ex-flatmate.

"I thought we were friends. You couldn't have kept me in the dark if you had considered me as your friend for a second."

"You ARE my friend."

John shook his head in denial. With clenched fists, he answered coldly.

"No, I don't think so."

Sherlock's face hardened a bit and Greg's eyes caught it. He cut in,

"Okay, girls. Let's sit down first."

Lestrade's exasperated voice silenced them. John and Lestrade sat on the sofa: the DI made it certain that John and Sherlock keep a certain distance. Sherlock leaned on the wall and thought hard about what to say. Ignoring John's glare wasn't easy. Today's event had to be a good start. The detective asked,

"Moran, Colonel Moran. Ring a bell, John?"

Breathing deeply not to lose it, John answered stiffly,

"Colonel Moran. Army. Yes. He was a legendary marksman, an excellent shooter. I heard he had left the army a few years ago."

"He was the right hand man of Moriarty. He was the sniper trained on you that day, John."

"What have you been doing, Sherlock, after your death? How did you survive after that?"

Lestrade interrupted in an obviously annoyed voice: he was thinking about the hell of the disciplinary committee hearing; the scandal that had rattled the Yard and endangered his career; and the pile of cold cases in Sherlock's absence.

"First of all, why didn't you come to us right away? Did you have to fake your death?"

The DI stopped abruptly, remembering the stupid attempt to arrest the detective. His face blushed in embarrassment, and the detective filled in before the silence became awkward.

"Well, Greg. There were snipers trained on you three. They had to believe I was dead and you shouldn't know I was alive. I was trying to move a step ahead of Moriarty and his cronies. My suicide had made it easier and I have been destroying Moriarty's network over the last two years."

Mycroft cut in,

"We set a trap, leaving traces of Sherlock back to the flat. Moran was about to hit Sherlock tonight."

"The mannequin."

"Yes, and you scared the hell out of us, John, when you walked into the flat."

Mrs. Hudson could feel the tensions building up. She could understand the bitterness that John was feeling. And the doctor was hungry. Food! It might relieve some of the excessive tension. She suggested in a pretense jolly voice.

"Well, shall we talk over soup? Everybody must be hungry."

Sherlock helped Mrs. Hudson with the tray of soup bowls as he was apparently feeling uncomfortable under John's glare. As soon as the detective disappeared downstairs, Lestrade approached John. His eyes were asking the doctor to punch the detective, too. John whispered, "IN DUE TIME." and the two men sat on the arm chairs. Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson came back with a tray of soup bowls and plates of grilled cheese and bread. She insisted the sleuth sit next to her and he couldn't refuse. Mycroft picked a piece of bread and grilled cheese and started to chew bite by bite. After one bite, he simply thought he wouldn't be able to understand his younger brother who had ignored Mrs. Hudson's cooking.

Sherlock's eyes met Mycroft's and his mouth crooked a bit. Then the detective started to talk about "how" he managed to survive the fall and "what" he had been doing over the last two years. The story was mesmerizing; even John's face softened a bit; everybody intently listened with wows and opps while the food was left forgotten by everybody (maybe except Mycroft Holmes who had his fill with grilled cheese and bread).

Hope you enjoyed this. In due time, John would make it sure that Sherlock would not dare to pull the stunt again. Thanks for reading.