Baker Street Boys

22

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When the ten men in bio-hazard suits arrived, they had their first moment of genuine concern. Up to this point, they'd been relatively sure that whatever the issue, Mycroft was likely overreacting, and that the consequences of their 'unofficial' visit to the lab would be a stern word from Sherlock's brother and a solid commitment to never do such a thing again.

Three hours of decontamination procedures, flimsy temporary overalls and being driven back to Baker Street in the back of an unmarked van had a way of convincing even the surliest of consulting detectives that perhaps, just perhaps, this time he'd gone too far.

Waiting in the foyer of Baker Street, Mycroft's usual imperious façade was distressingly absent and for once, John would have taken comfort from the familiar smugness. Instead, Mycroft stood aside as his brother climbed the 17 steps, John trailed after them in silence. The sorry convoy was completed by the team of twelve that had accompanied them from the lab.

**--**

The following hours were a nightmare. Having undergone complete bio-hazard scrubbing at the lab, John and Sherlock were now granted permission to change out of the disposable onesies and into clean clothes. Sherlock's suit and coat were gone, as were John's jeans and a rather nice red and black jumper that he'd become quite fond of. In normal circumstances, ending the day in the sitting room of 221B in pyjamas, robes and with a warm drink in their hands would signal the end to a good day. But this was anything but.

At some point, while John and Sherlock had been changing in their rooms, their blood tests had arrived. When the two men returned to the sofa the look on Mycroft's face had become, if anything more alarming. He sat in John's chair, reading the results, pausing and tapping thoughtfully on the table at irregular intervals. Finally, he stood and consulted with several members of his team, nodding toward the men sitting side-by-side looking like teenagers caught behind the shed.

Finally, two members of the team approached and gestured for Sherlock to follow them to the kitchen while another person sat down beside John. It was the first direct attention either of them had received since returning to the room, and Sherlock's patience was running short.

He angrily shrugged off the hand on his arm, "Tell us together."

"Sherlock," Mycroft's conciliatory tone only making the situation worse.

"No, Mycroft. Whatever your worker-bees have to say to us, you can say to us both. We're in this together, after all."

Mycroft released an exasperated breath and moved to stand closer to his brother, "We're not trying to separate the two of you, Sherlock. In fact the opposite is very definitely true. But the situation is such that your immediate....." he paused, looking for an appropriate word, "...treatment, requires different information for each of you."

Sherlock cast a glance back to John and the determined yet concerned frown was enough to reconcile him to the fact that in this, as in most medical matters, he'd take John's lead. Without another word, he lead his two shadows to the kitchen and crossed his arms, waiting.

**--**

"Well that's patently ridiculous!" Sherlock showed all the symptoms of an approaching tantrum of truly epic proportions. More alarming, Sherlock felt himself inexplicably close to tears.

"Nevertheless sir, it remains true. If you'll just read...." The dour man in the dark suit again offered the thick blue folder.

"I'm not interested in reading some fictitious government report designed to excuse some aberrant mutation." Sherlock knocked the file away petulantly, "John!"