"Would you really play Twister with me?!" Jim didn't care that Sherlock knew about his Sebbie. He didn't care that all of the former soldier's records were out there. Sebbie was his. So was a thousand other people, across the globe. Their identities didn't bother him at all, though Sebbie was his favourite right now.

Maybe because he'd served when Sherlock's John had. Maybe because they were both so good at what they did. Jim loved the parallels. He loved how they fit together. They were pieces of a well worked puzzle, the edges faded a little from constant ups and downs, pushes together and pulls apart.

"Now we have to have your pet come and play!" He dialed the phone with a slow, exaggerated push of each button and then put it on speaker (well not really) before he pressed a finger to his lips.

John of course answered immediately. "Tell me where you are right now!"

And Sherlock's voice repeated the address.

"How did you get to South-- Never mind. I'll be right there."

It didn't matter if Sherlock spoke. This was a closed system. The phone was just for show.