'I'm impressed, John.' Sherlock nodded his approval as we rounded the corner of the street.

'Really?' I enquired.

'Yes. I doubt the killer thought ahead and for you to find the bloodied glove and knife? Brilliant.'

I beamed. 'Bet you that you thought you were truly stuck before I found them, huh?' I asked playfully.

Sherlock hesitated. 'I… wouldn't say that, John. I would probably say I had a small malfunction.'

I smirked, jabbing my elbow into his side softly. 'You vain, pompous prick,' I laughed.

'Shut up, John, you're making yourself sound inferior.' His reply was monotone.

'But that's what I am, right?' I countered. 'Always second to you, on a lower level?'

He stopped walking, tugging on my wrist to pull me to a halt. I turned around, surprised to see a really serious expression on his face. He took a few steps to the side so we weren't blocking the way for other passers-by.

'No,' he said, looking me in the eye. 'No, you are not second to me. We are equal and equal we will stay.' He hugged me, and I grinned. 'So please stop thinking I'm better than you. It may be true in some cases but in others I am… quite blind and I need you to guide me.'

I wrapped my arms around his neck. 'I love you, Sherlock,' I whispered.

'And I love you, John. I always will,' he murmured back.

It didn't seem like it was possible but my grin widened. We stayed in that position for what felt like years but still, when his arms fell back to his sides, I had to try my very best to supress a whine.

'Come on. I think we should stop at Angelo's before heading back,' Sherlock told me. 'I told him I'd stop by.'

I rolled my eyes. 'Really?' I complained. Sherlock gave me a hard look. 'Oh alright, fine. But it better be quick.'

'Fifteen minutes at most, OK?' he confirmed.

'Yeah, OK.'

We turned the final corner before Angelo's. And that's when I saw him. There was a guy on the pavement, kneeling as he picked up the many books that he'd dropped on the floor. He was struggling to hold them all and I sighed.

'Hey listen, I'm gonna go help him. He looks like he could use a hand,' I said, letting go of Sherlock's hand as he I knelt on the ground beside the guy.

I picked up his books and tucked the loose sheets of paper back into them. I brushed off the dirt and handed them back to him.

He looked at me, a look of sheer gratitude spreading on his face as he took the books back. 'Thank you, kind si-' His expression changed to that of recognition. 'John?' he asked uncertainly as he stood up.

I looked at him long and hard, his face not matching up with a name in my head. But suddenly, a light switched on and I remembered who he was.

'Owen?' He nodded.

'Yeah. How're you doing?' he smiled softly, the way I'd seen him smile many times.

Before I could answer though, Sherlock stepped in, clutching my hand. 'Who's this, John?' he asked lightly. I caught him shoot a glare in Owen's direction.

I squeezed his hand softly, letting him know that all was OK. 'Sherlock, this is Owen,' I told him. 'Owen, this my husband Sherlock.' I didn't stress the word 'husband' like some people would have done. I saw Owen glance at our left hands and sigh.

'Oh. Right. Sorry,' he mumbled.

'Hey, no don't be sorry. You couldn't have known,' I said hurriedly.

'John, who is he?' Sherlock asked again. 'What connection do you two have?'

I sighed. 'Ex,' I said simply.

'Oh… right…' Sherlock said slowly.

This was getting awkward. I fisted my sweating hands, unsure of what to do or how to break the silence looming over us.

Finally, Owen said, 'Can we catch up some time? It's been far too long since I've had the privilege of your company, Dr Watson.' It was clear the question was directed to Sherlock to ask his permission.

'Yes, of course, Owen,' I answered, before Sherlock could get a word in. 'In fact I have an hour spare now. How does that sound?'

Sherlock's grip tightened on my hand. 'Uh, yeah, OK. If that's OK with you, Mr…' he nodded.

'Holmes. Mr Holmes,' Sherlock said bluntly. 'And yes, that's fine.'

He tugged on my sleeve and I looked at him. 'Promise me you'll come back to me, John,' he whispered, almost inaudibly.

My gaze softened as I took both his hands. 'I promise you, love. I'll be back home in an hour tops. OK?'

'OK,' Sherlock agreed. 'Promise?'

I smiled. 'Promise. Go home, Sherlock. I'll follow you in a bit.'

Sherlock sucked in a breath. 'I… I love you, John.'

I pulled him into a hug. 'I love you too, Sherlock.'

He let me go and as he turned away and walked back the way we came, I felt a tug at my heart.

He was so afraid of losing me that he even got jealous. I shook my head; he'd be fine. Sherlock was always fine.

'So how've you been, John?' I heard Owen ask from beside me.

'Yeah, I've been good,' I replied, as we walked. 'How about you?'

He smiled wistfully. 'I missed you.'

I held my breath. What was I supposed to say to that? That I missed him too? No.

I crossed my arms. I noticed his fingers were drumming against his thigh.

'Still can't let go of that habit, huh?' I commented.

'What?' Owen looked down, confused. He gave a sheepish grin when he noticed. 'Oh. No, I suppose not. Haven't really tried, to be honest. Half the time I don't even realise I'm doing it.'

That was so Owen.

We entered Angelo's and I could practically read the confusion and worry on Angelo's face as he wondered why I was in here without Sherlock.

After Owen and I parted ways at the entrance of the restaurant an hour later, I caught a cab home.

'I'm back!' I called as I ascended the stairs. When I entered the living room, I saw Sherlock with his back to me at the window. 'Sherlock?'

He turned to me and started walking. When he reached me, he enveloped me in a bone crushing embrace and I had to fight to stay upright. I chuckled as I held his arms to steady myself and hugged him back.

'Hello to you too,' I greeted.

His curls brushed my cheek as he whispered, 'Hello.'

We stood in that same position for a few minutes before he broke the hug to look me in the eye. 'I-' His voice caught in his throat. 'I missed you.'

'I was only gone for-' I stopped. His eyes glazed over with tears and even though he started blinking furiously, a second later, they spilled over. A real yank at my heartstrings.

I reached out with my left hand to wipe his eyes dry. 'Aww, Sherlock, I told you I'd come back, didn't I?' He held my hand with his.

'But I was afraid that…' His eyes drifted, looking anywhere but at me. 'That you'd see something better in Olly than in me.'

I smiled, not bothering to correct him. 'Oh, Sherlock.' I shook my head, squeezing his hand. 'I left him for a reason. I can't ever see myself with him again.'

'But… he's so much better…'

'No. I promised you two years ago that I loved you with all that I am and that I would never leave you ever and that promise still stands.' I took his left hand with mine.

'See these?' I pointed to the rings around our fingers. 'They're a token of our undying love for each other and I'm not about to let some guy from my past worm into our lives and ruin that.'

'Promise?'

I smiled fondly. 'I promise.'

I hugged him again and after a few minutes, I thought of something.

'If Hazel and Augustus took 'OK' as their 'Always',' I said, referencing our favourite movie, 'Maybe we can have 'Promise'?'

Sherlock smirked. 'Promise?'

I laughed. 'Promise.'

I took my hands to his cheeks and reached up. His hands circled my waist and his lips touched mine.

I kissed him like I loved him; I kissed him like he deserved to be kissed; I kissed him like he was mine.

That was how I promised to keep it. That was how we promised to keep it.

And nothing could get in our way.

OH MY GOD I HAVE NOT WRITTEN JOHNLOCK FOR SO LONG! Like jeez, writing this fic felt like coming home after a year's worth of boarding school. *sigh*

Hope you guys enjoyed it!