Ham, jam and a thousand pieces

by Giraffes Sent Me

John Watson is a broken man. He has buried both Sherlock and Mary within 3 months of each other. But then Sherlock comes back and wants John and Hamish to move in with him at Baker St. Can John finally start to pick up the thousand pieces of his broken heart? [There is a Hamish. There will be Johnlock. Be warned.]

1. Ch 1 - Back at Baker St

A/N: This story turned out to be a bit AU. This was not my intention when I started writing it in December 2011. Back then I had no idea that Gatiss and Moffat would throw Sherlock from a roof in season 2. Therefore I invented my own version of the Reichenbach Falls. As it is now this story is stuck somewhere between canon and the BBC's version of Sherlock's hiatus. I apologize for any inconvenience this might cause, and hope that the story is readable despite this flaw.

Rating: M for strong language and some adult angst.

Disclaimer: I do not own, therefore I do not profit.

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Back at Baker Street

John Watson looked up at the windows of 221B Baker Street. He sighed a sigh so deep that not even he himself could identify the many levels of it. The early morning light made the bricks of his old home glow with dull gold. Or was it his new home now? Whatever. This temporary shelter, he thought to himself. He sighed again. He had never thought that he would return like this. At some level he was not supposed to return like this. He took a small step to the right to allow one of the hired hands to pass him, carrying a box of clothes.

They had moved all of the storage stuff in yesterday. They had nearly filled 221C with things like winter coats, redundant furniture and boxes of nostalgia. The boxes carried from the white van today held small, personal items that they would need up in the flat. All the little stuff that made the days normal. As if anything would ever be normal again, he thought bitterly.

When he had left Baker Street a little more than three years previously, he never thought that he would come back to live here ever again. To stay for a few days, perhaps, but never to return with two vans worth of boxes, plus a toddler. He hoisted his son a bit higher on his hip. Little Hamish was half asleep and not resisting the shift, but the two year-old was beginning to get heavy. With his free hand John waved a short greeting to the hired men before they got into the van and drove off. He watched the car as it turned the corner. It was only him and Hamish left on the pavement now. Traffic caused a constant noise in the background, a few pigeons cooed from a nearby fence. Yet John Watson felt very very lonely when he hugged his son closer and went up to the front door of his temporary shelter.