Sherlock stood outside 221B Baker Street. Months had passed since his supposed death. He knew it killed John to see him fall, to think that he was dead. But it was better for him to feel grief than to die at the hands of Moriarty.

Sherlock took a deep breath and unlocked the door. He knew that Mrs Hudson would be out at her weekly meet-up with her friend Jean. He'd been watching them for a while, the few friends he had. Watching, noticing, making sure they were alright. Molly was doing okay, still working. Still alone. John had been going to therapy. Not that it'd helped him much. The thing that scared Him most now was seeing John. How would he react? Would he be angry? Sad? Happy? He didn't know. Only one way to find out.

With a sigh, Sherlock pushed the door open and walked up to his old apartment. He pushed open the door with one hand. John was sitting on Sherlock's seat, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. A few shot glasses were scattered on the coffee table. Lifting his head, John gave a gasp and dropped the bottle of whiskey, where it landed on the floor and smashed.

"There's whiskey on the carpet, that's going to stain... Oh well." Sherlock muttered, looking back at John. Shakily, John got to his feet. He looked a mess. His hair was messy, and a three-day stubble was growing on his jaw. His t-shirt was crumpled, like he'd been sleeping in it for a few days. Purple bags sat under his eyes, and his face looked overall more tired. "Sh...Sherlock?" John's eyes nearly popped out his head. He couldn't believe it. Was this real? Was it in his head? John took a slow step towards him. He looked like Sherlock... He dressed like Sherlock.. Could it be?

"Yes, John. It's me. I'm real, I'm here, look." He said, grabbing Johns hand.

John yanked his hand back and shook his head. This couldn't be happening...

"I must've drank too much. You're not here. You died Sherlock! You died!" By now the tears were flowing freely. It hurt Sherlock to see his John so sad. He grabbed his shoulders and shook him gently. "No John, I didn't! It was all a lie, an illusion! I had to make sure they thought I was dead! If...if I didn't, Moriarty's people would have killed you, all of you! I couldn't let them do that John, I couldn't..."

"So you let me think you died?! You let me cry, and scream, and think my bestfriend was dead?! I went to your grave every day, Sherlock! I sat there for hours, talking to you, telling you how much I missed you! I had to go to counselling! Therapy! All because you couldn't even send a little sign? Just a little sign that you were okay?!"

"John.. John I had to! Don't you see?" A few tears escaped Sherlocks eyes. "I couldn't let you die, I couldn't..."

The next thing Sherlock saw was John's fist heading for his face. He closed his eyes and sank against the wall as John's fists pounded into him. Pain exploded all over his body. His face, his chest and his stomach were the main targets. He didn't fight back, what was the point? He deserved this. After a few minutes John's punches lessened and eventually stopped. Sherlock opened his eyes to the sight of John kneeling in front of him, sobbing and shaking. Sherlock placed a hand oh his face. "John, I am so so sorry."

John looked up. Sherlocks lip was cut, his nose was bleeding and his left eye was already bruising. "I...I know. But I just, I thought you were dead. Do you know what's that's like? To see your bestfriend, someone you-" Johns sentence trailed off.

"Someone you what, John?"

"Someone you...someone you love, Sherlock."

Sherlock smiled. The word. Love. He liked the sound of it, especially coming from John's mouth. John closed his eyes and took in some shaky breaths. Sherlock took that moment to lean in. Very slowly, almost hesitantly, he placed his lips against John's.

Johns eyes opened in shock. He pulled away, looking at Sherlock. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"What I should've done a long time ago."

And with that he pulled John close to him and kissed him, gently at first, waiting to see John's reaction. John tangled his hands in Sherlocks hair, pulling him closer. Their lips moved together, the kiss filled with a fiery passion. A moan escaped Sherlocks lips.

"You would not believe how long I have waited for this," he panted, pulling away from John to breathe.

"Me neither... I never thought it would happen though. I thought your heart belonged to The Woman..."

"No, no, John. She had my interest. You have my heart. You've always had it."

"Always?"

"Always."

John smiled and took Sherlock by the hand. He never believed that Sherlock would ever like him. John himself used to brush away his feelings, telling himself that it was stupid, just a crush. But he knew it was more than that.

"Where are we going?" Sherlock asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"The bathroom," John said, pulling him along.

"The bathroom? What for?"

"A shower."

"A shower? Wha-" the realisation dawned on Sherlock. "Ah, alright then. Besides, you could use one anyway. You smell like whiskey. And you taste like it too."

John shot an unamused look at Sherlock."Shut up"

Sherlock chuckled and pushed John against the bathroom door. John's breathing was fast, as he watched Sherlock take of his coat and fling it on the floor.

"I've always liked you in that purple shirt," he said, pursing his lips.

"You'll like it even better when its off then, won't you?"

Johns eyes lit up as Sherlock started to unbutton his shirt. After the last button was undone, he cast the shirt away and yanked the t-shirt over John's head. The looked each other up and down. Sherlocks body was lean and slender, the slight outline of a six-pack forming. John was more stocky, with smooth muscles. Sherlock placed a hand on his face.

"You've lost weight," he said, with concern.

"Hard to eat when your bestfriend is gone..."

Sherlock softened and kissed him gently. John was quick to reply, their lips moving in motion, Sherlocks Tongue brushing his lip. The kiss grew more frantic, all the feelings they'd had to hide poured into it. Johns hands quickly found their way to Sherlocks belt buckle, where he yanked it off and pulled off his trousers and boxers. Sherlock quickly made work of John's trousers, both of them breathing hard and fast. The only piece of clothing between them was John's boxers. Sherlock pulled them off and pulled John into the shower. The hot water sprayed on top of them, wetting Sherlocks curls. John's sandy blonde hair had grown longer in Sherlocks absence. He tugged a tuft and smiled. "Cute, but I prefer it short."

"I'll cut it tomorrow if that's what you like."

Sherlock laughed and put his hands on John's hips. He kissed John again and again, each one more filled with love and heat than the last. John moaned and ran his fingers through Sherlocks hair. The kissed and kissed, their hands exploring each others bodies, mummering sweet nothings in each others ears until the whole shower room steamed up.

John was lying in Sherlocks bed in an old pair of pyjamas. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He came back. Sherlock had come back to him. His bestfriend had become his boyfriend... Was this a dream? Sherlock walked in and lay next to him.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, placing an arm over him.

"You. Us. Everything... Is this really happening? Is it true? Are you real?"

Sherlock took John's hand and placed it on his chest. John could feel the beating of his heart beneath his fingers.

"I'm real John. This is happening, I'm here, you're here, you're awake, and you're mine."

John laughed in disbelief. This type of thing only happened in books. Not to him...

"Sherlock?" John asked turning his head to face him.

"yes?"

"I love you. Really, I, I do."

"I love you, too, John. I never thought I'd ever love, I always thought it was a weakness. But Ive fallen for you. And I don't know if that makes me stronger or weaker, but honestly? I don't give a shit." The corner of Sherlock's mouth turned upwards and his hand found John's, their fingers intertwining.

John rubbed his thumb across Sherlocks hand absentmindedly. "Please don't leave me again. I just got you back, don't go away..please, Sherlock, don't."

Sherlock propped himself up on one elbow and looked John in the eyes.

"John Hamish Watson, I will never leave you again. For as long as I'm alive, I'll be fighting to stay by your side."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

And with that, they both fell asleep, hands clasped, ready to start a dangerous, exiting, and brilliant new life together.

nt here...