It was the perfect day; that's how Sherlock should have known it wasn't real. He never had perfect days and certainly not anymore. But…..the subconscious is a strange thing.

They were in the park; it was spring and bright and warm. The gentle breeze blew his hair around as he swung his arms at his sides, hands intertwined with other hands; one soft and smooth the other rough and permanently calloused in places.

He felt smaller than both of them, stuck in the middle like a JohnSherlockMary sandwich; it didn't make sense since he was fall taller than both of them. But it felt good…

Sherlock's pace was too quick and he felt the two hands tug him back.

"Not without us, sweet" Mary said, giving him a dotting smile as she pulled him back. "How are we to keep you safe if you leave us behind?"

"It's our job to keep you safe" John said, giving his hand a squeeze. Sherlock had never felt so loved and protected…..so whole. It felt real.

It was both ironic and predictable that he should wake then. The realness of warm hands in his own, arms pressed against his own was immediately wiped away. There was no John and Mary; there was only him.

Sherlock lay in his bed, curled in the middle in a mass of sweaty sheets. His pyjamas clung to him but he couldn't be bothered to care. He stared at the light streaming in through his window, watching motes of dust falling to the ground and tried not to think about the pit opening in his chest, threatening to swallow him whole.

It was just a dream…..a stupid dream at that. He couldn't allow himself to get hung up on it as it didn't even matter. On the whole, his emotions had been much more intolerable since he had returned to London. Mary and John and it was all so confusing to think about…so he didn't.

Eventually, he pulled himself to sit on the edge of the bed only because his bladder was screaming need for the toilet. The needle on his nightstand called out to him; he didn't have anymore. He forced himself to the bathroom and tried not to think about why his throat and eyes were burning so.

He wandered through the flat without purpose, without meaning. He glanced at the postcard on the kitchen table for the hundredth time even though each time he did it felt like a chasm was opening inside his chest, consumed with fire.

Hey, Sherlock!

Hope you're doing well at 221B; wishing you plenty of murders and all those things you like. It's wonderful down here, enjoying every bit of it. Mary's had a touch of morning sickness but not too much. Still can't believe it all; marriage and a baby all in one day! We'll be back on Saturday; hope we can come round? Wish you were here!

John and Mary

Sherlock scowled at the post card, with John's scrawly script on it and the picture of the blue water and white sand beaches. He despised when people said "Wish you were here" when it was quite obvious that they didn't want you there or you would have been there. Whatever…what made them think he wanted to be on their sex holiday anyway?

Our plane just landed. Can we come round later?-JW

Sherlock had ignored the text; he didn't know if he wanted to dignify John's text with a response. Quite sure he didn't, he swallowed down that nagging burning in his throat and walked back to the bathroom for a shower and a change of clothes. Shave, shower, wash, dry, dress….he went through the motions as his phone continued to vibrate.

We're all settled in back at home. We'd love to come over and talk to you. We missed you-JW

You alright Sherlock? John's a bit worried you haven't responded back to him. He worries so you know-M

Have to admit I'm a bit worried. I know how you were feeling when you left the wedding-M

Sherlock sat on the couch and starred at the wall as the sunlight outside the window shifted and began to go down. Mary liked to pretend she knew him, could read him; she didn't know how he felt as he left the wedding. There was no way she could and if she really did, that was worse. That would mean that she knew and didn't care; that was worse. Of course she didn't care.

We missed you, Sherlock. We're coming over whether you like it or not- M

Sherlock rolled his eyes and fell onto the couch, curling into a ball. What a pushy arsehole…couldn't they see he wanted to be left alone? It was quiet as the light disappeared in the flat and Sherlock traced the fresh bruises on his arms.

….

John fell back into the plush comfort of his own bed, the skin on his back only mildly protesting the touch; years in Afghanistan had taught him to be cautious with sun screen though he'd erred slightly on the side of risk because he didn't mind getting a tan. He stretched out, his muscles feelings slightly sore from so much walking. He smiled; there was probably more than one reason really why he was feeling the burn of exertion on certain muscles.

He and Mary had had a great time on their honeymoon. Indulging in every good food they saw, spending endless hours on the beach and in bed…..John hadn't relaxed this much in…well, his entire life. He'd had fun but at the same time he felt relieved in some ways that they were home. Being back at home was good too, though, he didn't relish having to go back to work and responsibilities.

John fished his mobile out of his pocket and checked his phone; Sherlock still hadn't texted him back. He'd sent Sherlock the occasional text while they'd been on holiday but he hadn't wanted to seem too interested in what he was doing; Mary might not like it after all. Who would want their new husband constantly texting their friend on their honeymoon? He'd only sent the smallest points of what he seemed to think were interests. He got only extremely annoyed texts back.

The bartender at this hotel really looks like a shifty charcter. Bet you could tell a thing or two about his past that would make people think twice about taking a drink from him.- JW

You're drunk. You realize you spelled character wrong, right? No? Because you're intoxicated.- SH

Get any cases this week? You didn't reply to my text yesterday so I figure you must be working a case- JW

I figure you must be getting quite a lot of sexual activity…..so why don't you just get on with it? You already succeeded in impregnating your new wife so you don't even have to use protection. I know you hate condoms. Congratulations.

Woman just slapped her husband in this restaurant; he actually slapped her back. They called the police but by the time they got here they were snogging on the floor between slaps. It's the kind of thing that you'd love to make fun of- JW

You insult my intelligence if you think I care about a mere lover's spat. Shut up and eat your dessert; I imagine you've put on five pounds by now- SH

John sighed as he scrolled through his texts; well, to be fair he had texted Sherlock a lot. Sherlock's texts were annoyed and filled with insults; if someone didn't know him better they might think he was mad at John. John, knowing him better, knew that his disturbing deductions and personal insults were just part of his personality.

"I texted him and told him we are coming over whether he wants us to or not" Mary said, emerging from the bathroom with a smile on her face. She walked to the bed and leaned down to give him a small kiss on the lips before lying on the bed beside him, propping her head on her hand.

John's face heated slightly at being caught. How Mary did that he couldn't figure; now he had two people in his life who seemed to know entirely too much about him. "Oh, if he doesn't want us over, who cares? I'm tired anyway" John said, trying to sound carefree about it.

John looked away but when he turned his gaze back at Mary, she had her eyebrows raised in a knowing glance. "Why do have such a hard time just admitting that you miss him?" she asked with a laugh in her voice. "I can admit that I missed seeing him."

"I didn't miss him" John insisted on. And really, he hadn't. All of his texts had yielded moderate to extreme insults about everything from his physical appearance to personality. How could he miss someone like that? Sure, he wouldn't have minded seeing him for dinner tonight but he wasn't going to force himself upon someone who obviously didn't want to see him.

"He missed you too, you know" Mary said with a laugh, falling back on the bed so she was staring up at the ceiling with entirely too smug a glance.

John sat up straighter so that he could look at her. "No he didn't…you saw his texts. He's in a bloody horrible mood" John argued.

"Men….."Mary said with a sigh of knowing in the way that could frustrate John to the point that he just had to snog her, both to keep her silent and because it was annoyingly attractive.

"What?" John asked quickly, not wanting to but unable to deny his curiosity any longer.

"You two are so stubborn and what's the point?" Mary asked. "You missed him; you couldn't stop texting him. He missed you; that's plain to see from his texts and his stubbornly ignoring us now. I know you think that that's just the way that he is but it's different. He's irritable because he's missing you."

John felt a burst of something warm and excited in his stomach but he refused to acknowledge it He crossed his arms firmly and tried to feign disinterest. "I don't want to go over there" he said trying to sound more tired than he really was.

"Tough…..we're going over there, Mr. Watson" Mary said with a cheeky grin.

John smiled and turned to face her, half way lying across her. "Oh, so you get to make all the rules now, Mrs. Watson?" he asked playfully.

Mary grinned. "Of course I do" she said, leaning up to give him a long, slow kiss. John's senses of happiness and pleasure, already so keen from the honeymoon perked up.

"Well, I have to at least take a shower before we go over there. I still smell like the ocean" John said as they broke the kiss. He had sand in more places than he cared to count. "Want to join me?"

Mary smiled. "Certainly, Mr. Watson."

….

John felt nerves stirring in his belly as he and Mary walked up the stairs and to the flat that he had for so long called home. Shaking his head and feeling ridiculous, he tried to push the feeling aside. Maybe Mary did have a point; he did miss Sherlock even though it was crazy that he should feel the loss of him after one week's absence.

John had been separated from Sherlock for two terrible years. Sherlock had been everything to John to such an extent that it wasn't healthy. He was his flat mate, his colleague, his friend, the only person who had truly mattered; they had done everything together and when John had watched Sherlock fall off of the roof at St. Bart's, it had nearly killed him. He'd been left a mere shell of his former self; Mary was the only reason he'd not given up on life entirely. She'd come into his life and made him feel things when he was dead inside; she had made him want to live again. Then, Sherlock had blown into his life again like a terrific ghost and all of his old wounds had been reopened. He'd not examined it too closely; he couldn't. If he really allowed himself to feel how betrayed and hurt he was that Sherlock had lied to him and let him mourn for two years then it would send him over the edge. It made him want to kill Sherlock; strangle him with his bare hands and then embrace him. So, he buried deep it inside where it belonged. Since he had come back, they'd settled into an odd reunion; working together occasionally and seeing each other personally often. At times John tried to resist, feeling like he should even though Mary didn't seem to care. But no matter how hard he tried, they were like magnets, being drawn together.

The door of 221b was slightly cracked open; Sherlock was expecting them. He knew better than to think that Mary didn't really mean it when she said that they were coming over. Mary, a few steps ahead of him, knocked on the door a mere second before pushing it open and walking inside. John smiled; no beating around the bush with her. She obviously didn't feel the odd stirring of hesitation that he felt.

When they stepped into the flat, John found Sherlock sitting on the couch in his pyjamas, flipping through a thick book so quickly that he couldn't possibly be actually reading it. When he noticed their presence, Sherlock looked up from the book and scowled. "So nice of you to just let yourself in…..when you weren't invited, by the way" Sherlock said annoyed before looking back at the book. John was beginning to wonder if Sherlock actually was mad about something though John couldn't imagine what he could have possibly done to make Sherlock so obviously pissed at him.

Mary, unperturbed by Sherlock's rudeness, plowed on. "Hello, Sherlock. How nice to see you too" she said pleasantly, sitting down on the couch next to him, all smiles. Sherlock looked at her as though she had grown a second head. "We missed you while we were away."

"I doubt you gave me a second thought on your sex holiday" Sherlock said rudely, flipping through the book. John sat down the bag of take away on the table and sat in the chair next to the couch. The odd nerves in his stomach had dissipated; Sherlock was just the same old Sherlock. He didn't know why he'd been nervous in the first place.

"You don't have to be such a git about it" John retorted back, giving Sherlock a look that earned him a rare Sherlock middle finger.

"Now, boys…..play nice" Mary said, trying to defuse the situation. John didn't know why she bothered; Sherlock was just plain rude. On second thought, he hadn't missed him at all.

"Why don't we all just have a little dinner and catch up on what we have missed" Mary said pleasantly. She turned to Sherlock which John felt slightly annoyed by. "Tell us, what's been going on in London the past week?"

"Nothing" Sherlock growled. "The criminals have been positively boring this week. Nothing more than a 3 all week; I didn't even go in to the Yard once."

"What a shame…..no murders for a whole week. London might fall" John said. He meant it to be a joke but it came out harsh. Sherlock scowled at John and he felt that was something of a victory.

Mary shot John a warning look and he felt this was even more unfair; why she seemed to be defending Sherlock so much was beyond him. "That must have been tough for you. Know it's rough when there's nothing to keep the mind entertained" Mary said sympathetically. She pushed the take away toward him, "Here, have some Angelo's. John ordered your favorite."

Sherlock looked at Mary and then back at John before standing up, his face unreadable. "I don't want to eat and I don't want to do…..whatever this is" he said, wrinkling his nose up unpleasantly. "I don't want company. I think the two of you ought to go home and watch a bad sitcom on telly and copulate or whatever it is married people do on a Saturday night. Good night"

Sherlock began to walk out of the room with a flourish of his dressing gown. John was apt to say good riddance, not wanting to have been there at all anyway. Mary, on the other hand seemed to have other ideas. John watched in astonishment as she stood to her feet, hands on hips and said in her most commanding voice, "Sherlock Holmes, you get back here this instant!"

To John's immense surprise, Sherlock stopped and turned around, looking at Mary in shock as if he couldn't believe that she had actually just ordered him. "Excuse me?" he asked in disbelief.

"You heard me" Mary said forcefully. "John and I came over here to visit and you're being incredibly rude. Now, sit down and eat your dinner and fix your attitude right this instant. I know you're really pleased we're here."

John felt a smile spreading across his face at the forcefulness of his wife; too bad she's going to lose, he mused to himself. To his complete and utter disbelief, Sherlock stomped over to the couch, took his container of take away and opened it. "I'm…..sorry" Sherlock reluctantly apologized to Mary as if the words tasted bad in his mouth before beginning to pick at food with a plastic fork.

It took everything in John's power to keep his mouth from hanging open in disbelief. No one ordered Sherlock about and certainly no one got him to apologize. He felt like he'd just been witness to a magic trick.

"You're forgiven" Mary said, sitting down with a smug smile on her face. "Now, apologize to John and tell him how much you've missed him."

Sherlock paled as he looked at John whose face was heating. "Sorry, John" he said, letting the words come out sassy like a child who had been made to apologize for a misdeed. "But I didn't miss you" He said stubbornly.

"Good, I didn't miss you either" John said firmly. He and Sherlock stared at each other for several seconds before they broke into a familiar smile.

"Boys….." Mary said tiredly, watching them as she tucked into her own dinner.