Disclaimer: I own nothing, and only borrowed the characters for a little while.


Doctor John Watson rubbed his eyes wearily as he stepped off the early morning Manchester to Euston train.

He felt exhausted - mentally, emotionally and physically. The reunion he had been looking forward to for months had morphed into a memorial for those no longer with them and brought up memories he'd long forgotten or suppressed from his time as a soldier. He could feel himself limping, and rubbed his shoulder at the sudden pain.

Fumbling for his phone, his text was brief. Where are you? - JW

The response was instant. Scotland Yard - SH

Heading for the tube, John barely noticed the people rushing around him as he adjusted his backpack with a wince. Stepping off the lift, he barely registered the greetings in his direction, his mind set on one thing, on one man, only.

Entering the bullpen, he stumbled slightly the moment he saw him.

He saw the detective turn in his direction mid-sentence and saw the split second assessment his partner made of him. And then all of a sudden he was walking toward him... he was there... and in his arms.

John gripped the coat lapels as he rested his forehead on Sherlock's chest. It felt so solid. So safe. So right.

"Why didn't you tell me you needed me to come."

He breathed in his scent. "Because I didn't know."

They stood there a moment longer before John swore he felt a kiss placed to his temple before the detective stepped back. "We have a case to solve."

"Anderson!" he thundered as he marched toward the inept technician. "You clearly need a lesson in how to..."

John smiled tiredly as he followed. That was the Sherlock Holmes he knew and loved.


Finito.