Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, I could never have translated it so well as Moffatt and Gatiss have.

WITHOUT YOU

I wound my arms around his thin waist, his slender hips narrower than I remembered, unable to tell with the way his trousers hung from his slight frame. He felt thin and fragile and brittle in my arms – it made me wonder just how recovered he really was from what had happened those months ago.

"What are you doing, John?"

I hesitated before I leaned up and rested my head on his shoulder – there was still a height difference even as he sat down. "Just making sure you're alright… You are alright, aren't you, Sherlock?"

"Of course." Sherlock murmured as he dropped his hands from the microscope and turned towards me. The corner of his lips quirked up slightly before he sighed softly and turned back to his work. "Why wouldn't I be alright?"

I pulled away and moved to stand beside him, watching as his eyes moved over the equipment scattered before him.

"You fell off St. Bart's rooftop, Sherlock-"

"I jumped."

"- after watching Moriarty take his own life-"

"A non-issue."

I slammed my fist against the wall. "Shut – up, Sherlock." He turned to face me, calm as ever while his blue eyes pierced the air between us, somehow maintaining a sense of curiosity as I tried to reign in my emotions.

I bowed my head. "You've been through – an ordeal, Sherlock. You won't admit it, but you have! You act as if you have no emotions – as if nothing's wrong, but I know it isn't true. You've said yourself that you hide them but I know they're there."

"And how do you know that?" he asked as he cocked an eyebrow. "I seem to remember you calling me a "machine" before I "fell off the roof"."

I narrowed my eyes, shaking my head. "Do you know what I said at your grave?"

Sherlock looked up at the ceiling. "You asked me to give up the act, I recall – and you asked me for one more miracle," he paused and smiled slightly. "Which I presume I fulfilled upon my return."

My expression softened and I ran a hand through my hair. "Actually, I said that you were the most "human human being" I had – have ever met and-"

Sherlock waited a moment before prompting, "And?"

"I don't want to lose the … love of my life again, Sherlock, I need to know that you're okay, so that I can be sure – be sure that I can … keep you." I shrugged one shoulder, shifting on my feet as I wished I could take back every word.

Sherlock stood slowly, buttoning his jacket as he turned to me with a soft smile. He stepped forward as I watched apprehensively before he wound his arms around my waist, pulling our bodies flush before he kissed me softly.

"You're stuck with me, John," he whispered as he pulled my arms around him, holding them there.

"You make me feel human, John and without you," he paused, breathing shakily before he took a moment to wipe what seemed to be tears from his eyes. "Without you, I wouldn't be here, John Watson."