Disclamer: I have no idea why I'm doing this… fine, I do not own any of the characters that I write about (At least not in this fandom, but in another fandom I write, I do in fact own a legitimate published character… I'll let you speculate).

Calm yourselves if you're my avid readers… I am taking a small Glee break and decided to write some Sherlock BBC fanfic…. Shh don't tell xshime… she'll have me head she will.

Okay… so 10 Moments to 10 Random iPod songs.

8 Plus 1 is Love

- Great Escape- Boys Like Girls-

John groaned and gasped for air as he ran down the street with Sherlock. This was not his day, What am I thinking, this was every day. It had started off fairly normal, well as normal as Sherlock waking him up by setting the kitchen table on fire with some combustion testing with yet another human head. But a simple case about a missing car and an expensive dog had gone for the worst. That brings about this current moment… running through alley ways while being chases by a group of thugs.

"Sherlock! Did you… Lestrade?" asked John, taking a breath as Sherlock came to a stop.

"No time. Put this one," barked Sherlock, tossing a helmet at John, it the occurred to John what was again happening.

"We are… I am not…" John tried to catch his breath, but heard running behind them, "Sh…"

John hesitated for yet another seconds as Sherlock mounted the motorcycle and signaled for John to hop on. He groaned and did so, praying Sherlock actually knew how to drive a bike. He found himself clamped onto Sherlock as he hit the acceleration and pulled into a wheelie.

"We're going to die…" gasped John as they sped through the tight areas.

"That is what I'm trying to prevent," responded Sherlock as he nearly skidded around a corner, their pursuers still behind them, apparently taking the other unattended bikes.

John continued to cling to Sherlock as they cruised down the street, going well over the speed limit. He couldn't help but chuckle into the back of Sherlock, remembering just a few short moments back saying, 'Nothing Ever Happens to me.' Then he met Sherlock Holmes… and now… he was being chased by a group of thugs on motorcycles trying to kill them, doing… well over ninety. John heard sirens and looked to see the familiar members of the police force cruising to surround the men on bikes and breathed a sigh of relief, but Sherlock kept driving.

"Sherlock!" asked John as they sped off and slowed down.

"Dinner?" asked Sherlock, and John knew he had a smirk on his face, proud of yet another great escape.

- Can I Have This Dance- Zack Efron & Vanessa Hudgens-

"What do you mean, you don't know how to dance properly?" asked Sherlock, his face in utter confusion as if John had told him he was a werewolf or something insane.

"I never really learned how to dance, okay… I don't see how I knowing how to dance is relevant to the jewelry theft we are investigating.

"Because out suspect if going to be at this banquet and if we're going to do this properly, I need you to dance with her long enough for me to cause a scene and see if her husband still has the ring," groaned Sherlock as if he'd explained this more than just this once, "Come on then, I suppose we should practice."

"What?" asked John as he was yanked off the couch and found his hand placed on Sherlock's waist and his other hand intertwined with Sherlock's, "Sherlock, I'm not…"

"John I assure you, no one is watching if you're worried about people 'talking' and what not, just follow my lead," said Sherlock taking a step towards the radio with John and hitting a random song.

John grimaced at first, this was highly embarrassing… though he soon realized he was actually enjoying this, no one had ever taken the time to show him even the slightest steps. After a few minutes he was starting to feel more confident and tried a trial at leading. He smiled up at Sherlock, who just smiled back at him with a nod. John felt his face heat up, but it wasn't a feeling of being embarrassed, but more… he cleared his throat and pulled away from Sherlock.

"Thanks, Sherlock," smiled John, "I think I got it."

"Good… now, what we were discussing before that small challenge…." Sherlock trailed off, but John couldn't quite look at Sherlock right now, his heart was racing.

- Just the Girl by Click Five-

Sherlock looked out the window with a small smile, he could feel John watching him, wanting to ask? Will You See Her Again? He wondered it himself in a split second, Would He? A part of him, however dormant did in fact, want to see her. He wondered briefly, what it would be like to 'Beg to Mercy,'… twice. She was a unique being, The Women. She was cold and calculating, but at the same time, completely uninhibited. He would not lie to himself that for a brief moment, he wondered what it would be like to have her… but at the same time he wondered if he did… would he want or possibly crave it anymore. She baffled him at times, and he didn't want that.

-Jolene by Dolly Parton—

John watched as Sherlock looked at the window in deep thought, his mind racing. Why did he care if Sherlock wanted to see Irene Adler again, he shouldn't. She's dangerous. But wasn't most of the things they dabbled in dangerous. But we have each other in those moments. He shifted slightly at his own thoughts. Remembering the warehouse, what she'd said to him about her preference. If she had been being honest, then why? Why was she so interested in Sherlock Holmes? She could have anyone, but yet… she wanted Sherlock. John didn't know what he'd do if Sherlock chose to be with her; he couldn't tell him not too… that it was stupid and dangerous. It would push him closer to her, and he… he couldn't lose him… his best friend. He jumped a little at Sherlock's quick reply.

"Why would I want too," he responded and began playing the violin, John couldn't help the feel of relief and the small smile that fell upon his lips as Sherlock's words.

-If Today Was Your Last Day- Nickleback-

The radio played as Sherlock glared out the window. This had been an insane week and he knew it wasn't over. Knew it as he finally reached the lab with John behind him and Molly standing at the ready… Moriarty was winning. Sherlock refused to admit it or even the want to acknowledge it, but yet here they were… hiding… well might as well be. He could feel everything crashing down on him, as much as he didn't wish it… but he felt dead locked… like it was coming to an end. He heard John's phone go off after Molly had left, knew what was happening, knew the plan. If it was his last day…. His final fight. He felt like he needed to say something… anything, but instead… he found himself standing over the building edge in what felt like less than a blink. Moriarty beneath on the cement behind him… blood pooling. He wished he could say more, wished he had done more today… more. But it was too late to reroute his plans, too late not to follow through with his backup one. He looked down at John as he tossed his phone, wishing he'd told him, wishing he'd said what he'd intended to say. But it was too late as he stepped forward of the ledge.

-Why You Had to Leave- Cascada-

John sat in his chair, his mind swimming with emotions that he hadn't thought he'd felt before. It had been weeks now and he'd finally got the courage to return to 221b Baker Street. He felt the tears fall down his face without care, his mind swimming with the emotions. The Computer. The Blog. The Spear. The Newspaper. The two Tea-Cups he hadn't dared to move. The boxes. A sob escaped him and it felt like walls breaking down. He'd been lying to himself, pretending Sherlock was still alive, but the dust and clutter told him otherwise. He just couldn't… he hadn't been able to fathom Sherlock sitting across from him in deduction to know where an empty cold seat sat. He reached for the stupid deerstalker and went to whip it anywhere, but instead he found himself recoiling into his chair and sobbing into it. Crying. Alone. Wondering if it was the blog and people who had caused Sherlock to jump…. Wondering if he'd killed his best friend. He just wanted to know…. Ask him… why did he have to leave?

-Me With No You- Bowling for Soup-

Sherlock walked passed 221b Baker street for the millionth time. He was tired and worn and he missed his home. He smiled as he pulled out his keys and unlocked the door, walking in. He could hear Mrs. Hudson bustling about in her kitchen. He walked slowly into the entrance and saw her sadly looking at some picture near the small table. She looked much older than she had a few years back, sad and lonely. He couldn't help feel it was he who'd aged her; she'd always seemed like a… well a mother at times. He smiled and cleared his throat lightly. She jumped a little and swung around brandishing a pot. He moved towards her as the pot fell to the ground with a clatter and the women burst into tears as she flung her arms around Sherlock, clinging to him as if she let go, it would all be a delusional dream.

It wasn't long before he'd cleaned up the old apartment and put his things in order, making notes of being followed and constructing a plan of his own, but… a far more important factor was on hand. John. He had felt so incomplete without him, like he was only one side of a coin… or an incomplete circle… He looked into John's room and sighed, remembering all the times he'd ambushed him in here to discuss a case… or after the Hound's case, where they'd both slept for nearly a week. He grabbed his coat and a disguise he knew he'd never let John see and dashed down the back and towards down town.

John sat in his office at the private practice, wrapping up another day. He sighed, tomorrow was the day. Three years to be exact and his mind was on edge, it was still like a hole was still there; needing to be filled. But no number or patients, or girlfriends, or short cases could ever seem to close it. He stretched as he got up and headed to close early when one of the nurses came in.

"Dr. Watson, you have one more patient," she smiled unsurely, "He says it's important."

"Julie, you can call me John… and I really need to be going somewhere," said John, his mind on one track only… he didn't want to be late visiting Sherlock's grave, he wasn't waiting till tomorrow… a homeless man stood behind Julie.

"I hate to impose doctor, but I really must see you," the beggar was hunched over and dirty, his voice oddly high despite the fact it seemed to have a low turn.

"…. It's all right," said John after a moment, giving a small sigh, gesturing for him to come in, "What's so urgent, anything ailing you?"

"Well doctor," John missed the weak smile fall across the man's face as he pulled out his notebook, "I've had these pains for a few years, but it's gotten worse."

"What's the symptoms," asked John, his manor concerned, but aiming for the facts, the beggar seemed to smile a little wider.

"Chest pains… why is that a scarf?" asked the man, John followed his hand towards where his coat hung, the royal blue scarf he'd taken to wearing, was neatly over the collar, John felt a pang in his chest.

"Ohm yes… sir, ohm.. what kind of pains?" asked John, eager to change the subject, he was not willing to talk about Sherlock with a random stranger.

"Does it belong to a friend," said the man, standing up and hobbling along to grab it.

"Don't!" John snapped and cleared his throat, "Sorry, I would ohm.. appreciate it if you wouldn't touch that, it's very important…. Just.. sir can you kindly tell me what's wrong?"

"… yes," the beggar practically beamed as he hobbled back towards John, "I miss someone… so much, it's causing me ailment…. Have you ever felt that Dr. Watson?"

"Ohm, excuse me," said John standing up and trying to occupy his thoughts on anything while the man spoke, taking to organizing his file cabinet, "Sir, I am not a psychiatrist.. I can give you the name of a good one if you need…"

"Oh please John, don't tell me your still seeing that poor excuse of the medical career," John slammed his finger in the door of the cabinet as he swung around, his eyes wide. He knew that voice.

He stared up at the beggar, who had grown taller as the coat and mask hit the ground. There stood Sherlock Holmes, his dark curls a little shorter, but there he stood, beaming. John felt everything flip and spin out, he felt dizzy before… his fist collided with a very strong cheek bone. He was breathing heavily as tears streamed down his face, matching the ones forming in Sherlock's, though both knew it wasn't from the punch. The stood wordlessly for a few seconds before pulling each other into a strong embrace; they felt whole again.

-When We Die- Bowling for Soup-

John couldn't believe he was doing this, this was one of the most embarrassing things he'd ever…. He groaned as the music picked up, this was definitely going to distract. His mind raced back to Sherlock asking for one so he and Lestrade could casually check the crowd for the emerald charm that had been stolen from the Elizabeth Exhibit the day before. He cleared his throat as he stolen the bands microphone, having already having to tip the group… or rather bribe them to play something else… however for some unknown reason, this was one of the only songs in the media they knew. Lucky for John he knew it.

"Well I know that it's early

And it's too hard to think.

And the broken empty bottles

…A reminder in the sink."

John wasn't the greatest singer in the world but he could sing… it was just extremely out of place at a banquet. He hated this song… really he did. It reminded him of too many things, primarily his flatmate. He was glad Sherlock was back and home and here… but it still hurt, he'd left John in such a stooper when he'd gone. Alone. Broken…. Alone. John remembered one week he'd spent with Harry before realizing he was starting to gain a drinking problem from it… there was still a few empty bottles laying around the flat. He felt a pain in his chest at the memories and the feelings all jumbling up… he'd all but forgiven Sherlock completely for it. He zoned back in, not even realizing he'd kept singing, he could see Lestrade doing the search. His mouth froze on the words for a second as another voice joined him. Deeper though.

"Cause Nothings Worth loosing,

Especially the chance to make it right," sang Sherlock with a smile

"Couldn't let you embarrass yourself without me," he muttered as the both continued singing.

"As long as we live,

Time passes by,

And we won't get it back when we die."

"And I know that we're gonna be fine…" sang Sherlock, John smiled.

He didn't care if they found the ruddy necklace, because at that moment any last bit of anger he had at Sherlock died. Life was far too short to be angry, especially at Sherlock. He'd been given his best friend back, that one miracle he'd wanted. He watched Sherlock's eyes twinkle with knowing, knowing he'd been forgiven once and for all. Everything was going to be fine.

-Try- Asher Brook-

Sherlock watched John as he read the paper in silence. He knew John was mad about this morning… although it had not been intentional for John to accidently eat a toe, regardless he wasn't apologizing… even if he had put the toe in the bag of sausages… still. He watched John for a second and sighed, picking up his violin and tinkering with it. He glance again, watching John's eyes fly back to the paper that hadn't had a page turned since the argument. With exasperation he started to play a song… yes.. he knew it was one of John's favorites.. and yes, perhaps he knew John would see it as apologizing… but he wasn't… no… he just.. happened to want to play it… and just because he couldn't help but hum the lyrics as he kept glancing at John… well.. so be it.

John listened to the music play, refusing to take the apology… or whatever Sherlock was aiming at…. But he couldn't help but lightly sing under his breath, listening to the words. Sherlock glanced at John, his mind drifting off into the song, his mind racing. He couldn't help but smile thinking about how they'd changed to accommodate each other, he especially. He opened his eye a little to see a look of deep thought on John's face as he stared at him without realizing it. John was considering the lyrics himself. Both had the same part on repeat, 'I will try for your love..' The song fit them, and for that John found his face become warm, but he didn't miss the light shade come across Sherlock's face. John didn't remember standing up or even crossing the area towards Sherlock. Sherlock hadn't remembered putting the violin down, the only thing either recalled was how wonderful each other's lips taste.

THE END