"So, Sherlock, will you be working for Scotland Yard again now?" Mary asked, filling the slightly awkward silence.
Sherlock had returned about a month previous, and, once all was explained and eventually forgiven, John decided what they needed was to all three go out for dinner together. Sherlock had suggested Angelo's but John had refused, which is how they found themselves sitting at a table in a posh-but-not-too-posh restaurant of Mary's recommendation, surrounded by the clattering of cutlery on crockery and hum of conversation, but with less than ten words exchanged between the three of them thus far. While Sherlock and Mary had met briefly before, this was the first time they would have to actually talk, and John's nervousness was clear to Sherlock in the way he tapped his fingers repeatedly on the table, starting with the little finger and moving in an accelerated mexican-wave-like motion up to the index, the same way he used to on the handle of his cane.
"I didn't work for them." Sherlock replied sharply, and then in a marginally politer tone continued, "But yes, I have contacted Lestrade and from what I can tell they seem to be as out of their depth as ever, so I'll be taking cases starting next week. I can't think how they ever functioned without me." At this, he flashed Mary one of his small smiles that was all eye-crinkles and fooled no-one in its lack of sincerity.
"Yes, well, I'm sure they managed. Didn't have any other choice really, did they?" John interjected, looking up at Sherlock.
Mary's eyes flicked between the pair as they held eye contact, until Sherlock coughed and looked away, seemingly fascinated by the plate in front of him.
In an attempt to change the subject, he remarked, "I notice you don't use your cane anymore, John." Mycroft had informed him that the limp had returned almost immediately after Sherlock's "death" but he hadn't seen John with the walking aid since coming back. This was one of two changes in John he'd been surprised to discover upon his return, the second being the neatly trimmed set of bushy grey hairs currently resting on his friend's upper lip, but he felt it would be unwise to bring that up, so cane it must be.
"No, I... it went away again..." John paused, his tongue absentmindedly darting out and across his lips as he decided whether or not to continue, before finishing with a slight nod, "uh, when I met Mary."
He could have sworn he saw a glimmer of something in Sherlock's eyes - disappointment, jealousy, hurt, guilt - he didn't know, but Sherlock quickly blinked it away, paying attention instead to the menu in his hands, before adding, quietly enough that John could barely make out the words, "Don't need me for that any longer, then." On the last word he glanced up at John, whose face had fallen and jaw clenched.
Suddenly, Mary pushed her chair back from the table and stood up, muttering something along the lines of, "Excuse me, I..um..I need to use the ladies." There were tears in her eyes and her voice cracked on the last word.
"Mary, what-" John began, standing up next to her, but she turned and rushed off in the direction of the exit.
Sherlock came to stand beside John.
"She looked upset. You should go after her." he advised, eyes flicking down only to flick up again before adding, "I understand."
John spun round to face him, anger clearly written across his features. "How could you even think that? That I don't…After everything we've-" He stopped himself so as not to make a scene in the restaurant, instead fuming silently.
"John, I'm sorry - it wasn't my place to say that. Go, it's fine. Mary shouldn't have to come second to me."
"Everything comes second to you!" John practically shouted in reply. Realisation dawned on him of what he had said and he swallowed before continuing in a small but certain voice, "It always has and it always will."
Sherlock stared at him, speechless for once.
Finally breaking the eye contact and stepping back, John started to mumble, "Oh god... I'm sorry, I didn't-"
Sherlock chose this moment to interrupt him by pressing his hands to the sides of John's face, closing the distance between them, and crushing their lips together. John rested his hands lightly on Sherlock's biceps and eased into the kiss as their mouths melted into each other, until everything he could think, feel and taste was Sherlock.
Eventually they pulled away, leaning their foreheads together, closing their eyes and just holding one another. Sherlock absent-mindedly brushed John's cheek with his thumb - both oblivious to the crowd dining around them.
"I'm sorry." Sherlock whispered.
"I missed you." John replied, also in a whisper.
There was a pause and then, "I love you."
"I love you too."
After another pause, Sherlock was the first to break the silence. "But Mary, the wedding..."
"We'll work it out."
After what could have been forever but was probably only a couple of minutes, Sherlock asked teasingly, "What about this moustache, then? Does that come second to me too?"
"Hmm...not sure about that one" John replied jokingly.
"Good, then you agree it has to go."
"You're an idiot, you know that?"
John leant forward to kiss him for the first time, and felt Sherlock smile against his lips.