CHAPTER 13. TO PART

Sherrinford Holmes glanced around the room where his alternate was sitting near a hospital cot, the man should be resting. Then again this was all déjà vu.

"So which are you then?" the doctor never turned from his friend's face.

"I'm the one you never officially met, but somehow you managed to not only save my life but that of my best friend." Sherrinford neared the bed, he glanced over the monitors, indeed this was all too haunting. "Funny how things work out. My John was shot as well by Moran, nearly killed him. Then just recently he took another bullet for me. It's impossible I think for John Watson in any universe to be anything but self sacrificing it's almost infuriating. This is what prompted me to come. I thought I would return the favor."

"Even though I would have taken your friend with me, taken him before you would have ever known him." Doctor Holmes sounded defeated and exhausted his shoulders slumped.

"Yes." Sherrinford replied easily, "Yes. Even though that was your goal. I realized after Mycroft explained what your intentions had been, I realized that I would have done the same. Sentiment isn't advantageous-"

"Well in this instance I would think you were wrong." Doctor Holmes cut his alternate off.

The two men remained in silence gray eyes watching the monitors there was not a goodbye said between them just a mutual thank you.

Sherrinford wanted to return home more than ever, today had proven most exhausting.

He gave a quick nod to John's sister, she was eying him suspiciously, and he realized she may think that at any moment one of the others or even himself were here to whisk John away.

No, Sherrinford could never find a replacement John. His John wasn't so cold as the ex consulting criminals Watson, and perhaps not as soft as his Bellstaff wearing counterpart's. Sherrinford was happy with the one he got, in his opinion his John was the best. The idea of John working for Mycroft, laughable and horrifying. He shook his head straightening his suit jacket, it was indeed time to go home.

Bellstaff Sherlock shot an irritable glare at Harry Watson and Sherrinford could deduce right away there was more to that then a simple distrust. He wondered if in another time line Harriette Watson was something else, perhaps more of a obligation than a loving sister. He had never asked John about family and always assumed his friend was an only child. Did John have a sister? A family somewhere? He deduced all he needed about John, his phone it was a gift from a relative Sherlock had said brother and John had never corrected him. But if that were true than where was John's sibling? Why weren't they apart of the ex soldier's life?

Even a man like Mycroft appreciated family and it was hard to believe John would easily sever ties with his own unless it wasn't his choice. Interesting he would definitely have to ask.

Mycroft had a file on John perhaps he would have answers, of course he would have answers. The Consulting Detective rolled his eyes, and as tempting as it was he knew he wouldn't be asking Mycroft for anything anytime soon.

He did however wish to return home to his friend and his own brother, this place was colder and less appealing than home. He hoped Mrs. Hudson would have some fresh biscuits waiting for him.

~0~

Sherlock glared at Harry as he entered into the hospital room, he wished to say his goodbyes. Well mostly he was intrigued by his counterparts relationship with this version of John Watson. An agent, working for Mycroft, it was disgusting almost horrifying. So much so Sherlock wished to return home instantly and insist on defacing the cctv camera's around 221B. He would have John join in just for good measure.

He found himself or rather the other version of himself, the weaker more sentimental version holding the unconscious blonds hand. Sherlock had yet to experience this, it was always the other way around for him. John, his blogger would be loyal sitting beside his hospital bed. His friend would always be there when Sherlock awoke, it was something the consulting detective had become accustomed to.

It was something he hadn't realized he needed or would miss until he spent the three years away from John his only friend. He wondered if this is what he would have become had he met John at UNI.

"It's very apparent you have a Moriarty problem." Sherlock sighed nearing the hospital cot, he allowed himself to glance at the monitors but never the man lying in the bed.

"Mycroft will sort it. It seems my research has attracted some attention." The scientist sighed running a hand through his unruly hair.

Sherlock scoffed at the idea of allowing Mycroft free rein in any of his problems but then again this version of himself was softer and somehow younger.

"You don't believe Mycroft can-"

"Oh, I bet he will. It's just from past experience allowing him and Moriarty in the same room ended badly for me. It cost me three years of my life and nearly cost me a valuable friendship." This caught the other man's attention immediately, he shook his head.

"I'll figure it out. This wont happen again. I'll be on better guard and as for the Moriarty and his organization they wont be allowed to spread."

Sherlock read determination in his counterparts cool eyes, the man was looking at him now really looking. "I have faith in my brother's ability and my own."

"Good because when Moriarty came after me it was through my family." Sherlock motioned towards John without looking up.

"Is that why you neglected to bring him on this adventure?" The scientist smiled sadly turning back to his sleeping friend.

"Yes. That and I've asked too much of him already over the years. I figured I could repay this debt to you on my own. I've given Mycroft all the information I've collected over the years on Moriarty. I hope it proves useful."

And with that said Sherlock turned around to take his leave. All this sentiment was making his stomach ache he wished for some warm tea and perhaps he could nick some fresh biscuits from Mrs. Hudson's kitchen. He if he asked he knew that John would make him tea, and even without asking the Doctor would sit with him. Sherlock found himself wanting to be in the quiet of 221B with nothing but the sound of his blogger tapping at his keys and every once and a while trying to pull the genius into a conversation.

He left the two injured men behind and swept from the room.

~0~

John stood up and greeted his roommate as soon as he entered the flat.

"Sherlock there you are, I've been trying to call you for ages. Where have you been? We have a client."

Sherlock frowned he had hoped or a quiet evening, he removed his scarf and coat.

Registering there being another individual in the flat, a female individual from the tell tale scent of perfume.

"Mrs. Morston this is Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock this is Mrs. Mary Morston."

"Oh, please it's actually Ms. And Call me Mary." The blond woman smiled gently her eyes never leaving the good doctor's face. Sherlock took a step back and felt as if he were intruding on something, quickly shaking this feeling off.

"Tea John."

"Already made." John replied retrieving a cup for his dark haired friend.

"So Mary, tell me about the case." Sherlock sighed as John took out a note pad as if to take notes but the detective could see his friend was smitten and this woman was equally taken in by John's easy going personality. Of course she would be only a stupid woman would find such a man unworthy of their affection.

And John had brought some stupid women back to the flat, the detective reflected irritably. However this woman might prove more difficult to scare off and even more so intriguing Sherlock didn't seem to do so. Recalling how happy John's counterpart had been in the wedding video Sherlock had been shown.

Still he would keep an eye on this relationship, couldn't have his blogger taken advantage of her hurt in some way. Women were heartless creatures by nature, well at least in the little experience Sherlock had with them, namely one Irene Adler.

~0~

Doctor Holmes must have drifted off at some point because he awoke to a hand squeezing his own.

"John!" Sherlock shot straight up seeing the glassy stare of his friend fighting to stay conscious. "John, don't talk I'll call a nurse!"

Doctor Holmes kept his hand in his friends and with his free one pressed the call button.

Several doctor's and nurses rushed in, they worked around the scientist who kept his eyes on his friends. The blond agent scowled and winced but said nothing.

Sherlock snapped at the doctors and nurses "Do be careful the man was shot." He watched as his friend was given more pain meds and listened to the doctor explain the situation.

The medical team adjusted the agents bed and left the room shortly after, declaring the good soldier on the way to recovery. Someone had hung another bag of blood on the IV stand, and Sherlock adjusted the oxygen cannula around his friend's ears.

"I'm sure you're going to explain this all to me sometime?" the agent's voice was hoarse.

"When you are well again. But until then Mycroft has Mary and the kids on their way, he had a private car and plane ready for them. They should be here in a few hours. So I suggest you embrace the sweet silence while you can and rest."

"You alright?"

"Better off than you." Dr. Holmes huffed squeezing his friends hand.
"My sister told me this bloody mad story about how you inventing a time machine. Now I think I was dreaming. Imagine you the new Doctor Who. " John giggled then winced. "If anyone could do it I guess it would be you."

"Rest John." Sherlock urged but his friend only licked his dry lips and blinked tiredly at him.

"You know when I found you in that bathroom during UNI, I knew you were going to be trouble."

"And I knew you would be hard to get rid of." Both men grinned and the blond allowed his eyes to close. "I'll be right here when you wake up John. Just sleep."

The other man sighed, the pain medication carrying him off into a warm dream. One where he was surrounded by his family, and at home in a comfortable arm chair listening to his friend explain some new scientific theory. Mary would be cooking in the kitchen and the children would be sitting on the couch practically in the mad scientist's lap. And of course Sherlock wouldn't mind, he liked the audience he liked this place this was home.

THE END