John couldn't help but fidget as he sat at his kitchen table with his wife. It had been 4 hours since they left 221B and John was anxious to receive the text from Sherlock that he was promised. If Moriarty was really back, he would come for Sherlock, everyone would be in danger, including his little girl who was due to be born in 13 days. John couldn't help but replay the events that happened at the pool all those years ago: "I will burn the heart out of you". In the year or so that Sherlock had been back, he had shown that he really did have a heart. His speech at the wedding was so unexpectedly heartfelt and his shooting Magnussen was so clearly out of care, whatever the detective claimed. John didn't even want to think about what burning the heart out of Sherlock Holmes would be like. Sherlock had declared this afternoon that Moriarty wasn't back, but he had only just regained consciousness from an overdose, so John wasn't going to rule anything out.

"John, love?"

John looked at his wife, her face was expectant as though she had asked a question and was awaiting the answer. John assumed this is what had happened, that he was so lost in his own thoughts he hadn't heard her the first time.

"Hmm?" he replied

"I said your mobile just vibrated" Mary has his phone in her hand; she was smiling encouragingly as she passed it over to John.

M isn't back. Lots to explain. Baker St when you are able- SH

John was immediately flooded with relief that, at least for now, Moriarty was still dead. However it wasn't long before feelings of dread and trepidation settled in, who was behind this then? Is it someone we know of already? John wouldn't like to admit it to anybody, but there was also a wave of excitement, a thrill that could only be created when Sherlock Holmes and his frankly ridiculous adventures were in your life.

"What is it John?" Mary gently reached toward John; she placed her hand on his and looked at him with her kind, warm eyes.

John cleared his throat, "Moriarty isn't back. Lots to explain. Baker Street when you are able" he read from the screen of his iPhone.

"Right, yeah that does sound like a lot to explain. Do you want to pop over now? I want a bath and an early night anyway."

"Are you sure?" John asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"Yep, of course" Mary smiled. John stood up and made his way around the table, he put his arm round his wife's shoulders.

"I don't know what time I will be back, but I'll text you. Call if anything happens or you need me. And, thank you Mrs. Watson, what would I be without you?" He kissed her cheek and she chuckled lightly,

"Well Doctor Watson, stop flattering me, you're needed".

John grabbed his coat from the hallway and left out the back door. He started on his way to the tube station and text Sherlock

Right, am on my way now, see you shortly. JW

Sherlock put down his phone, he estimated that John would arrive in 23 and a half minutes, he remained still for a minute or so considering what to do with the time before John walked up the stairs to 221B. It wasn't enough time to start doing a new experiment, or read anything, but Sherlock despised waiting. Waiting was the very thing that created boredom and boredom was a dangerous poison in life. The purpose waiting is purely to do nothing until you are able to do what it is you want to do. No, waiting was a tedious thing and Sherlock couldn't face doing it. Sherlock found himself gazing at the foot of the sofa, where his slipper was hidden. He wasn't sure why he still hid cigarettes or related smoking paraphernalia, he lived alone now, there was no one to hide anything from. Not even his brother expressed an issue with smoking. He calculated that there was enough time to have a cigarette out of his bedroom window, spray some deodorant, shut his door again and brush his teeth so that John would be none the wiser when he arrived.

Sherlock enjoyed a deep inhalation, relishing the nicotine buzz that coursed through his body and made him pleasantly light-headed. He wasn't smoking much, it was a habit he reserved only for when he was most bored or stressed. In this case he was a mixture of both. Of course he was bored simply waiting for his friend, and he was somewhat stressed. Sherlock never liked to admit when he was stressed, he hated the way that people change their behaviours around you after they learn such a thing. He wasn't ashamed of it though; stress is a biological process, simply a response to certain environmental factors. In fairness, Sherlock thought to himself, being exiled then being "un-exiled" because your arch nemesis has apparently returned, then finding out it is an unknown criminal with a psychopathic hatred of a brother that you have not spoken to, or about for 20 years whilst trying to make it through the arse end of a come down made up a stressful day. Sherlock finished his cigarette, flicked it out of the window and executed the rest of his plan; spraying, closing the door and brushing his teeth. Then he made his way into the kitchen to put the kettle on. John was typically British in that when a crisis ensued, the kettle boiled. There are some things in life that only tea can make better.

Sherlock was sat in his usual chair when he heard the familiar sound of John's footsteps on the stairs, "I've made tea, consider it repayment for the tea I denied you earlier." Sherlock waved his hand in the direction of the tray of tea he had prepared.

"Er, okay, cheers" John spoke with apprehension. He wasn't sure what he expected to find when he arrived at Baker Street, but Sherlock seemed as composed as ever, and incredibly in one of his better moods. John made his way over, and sat in his chair, facing the detective.

"You are worried John." Sherlock's tone was flat and he eyed his friend carefully. John took a sip of his tea, deciding it was too hot to drink and let out a deep breath. "Yeah, I am. I've been worried since the moment you took the gun out of my pocket at Appledore. I've been waiting to find out whether the psychopath who promised to burn you has returned all day. Yeah, you could say I am worried."

Sherlock put his tea down beside him, his eyes darting around his flat. This was a sign of nervousness or anxiety that he had exhibited since he was a boy. He bit his top lip and sat forwards in his chair. "I'm not sure where to start." John was surprised at this declaration, Sherlock rarely admitted when he was unsure or wrong about anything. John sat silently looking at Sherlock who was now staring towards the foot of the sofa.

"Cigarettes" John followed Sherlock's gaze, knowing that this was a hiding place.

"Very few people admit such habits to their doctor, or such weaknesses to a brave man."

"Just cigarettes?" John asked sceptically

"Yes."

"Well your smoking habit isn't my top concern at the moment to be honest Sherlock" John's words were more apathetic than they were cutting, and it was to these words that Sherlock turned his gaze back to fix on John's.

"You might change your mind after I tell you what you want to know."

"Maybe, we can't be sure unless you tell me" John tried sipping his tea again, it was still fractionally too hot but it was just about drinkable. At this Sherlock stood up and in three strides made his way back to the spot he stood in this afternoon, he resumed his staring out of the window.

"You have never asked me about my drug use." Sherlock's voice had dropped an octave and taken on much more of a serious tone than when he had first offered John tea.

John was surprised to hear Sherlock bringing up this sensitive topic, and he was careful in formulating his response. It is true he had never asked Sherlock about his drug habit, he had always felt it was a conversation that Sherlock would shut down immediately simply because it was likely to highlight Sherlock's weaknesses and vulnerabilities. "I always got the impression that you didn't want to talk to me about it. So instead I focused on the present, trying to make sure you stayed clean, although it seems as though I may have been quite blind."

"You must know, today… at the air strip, it was a one off… Being exiled threatened to be terribly boring… I need you to make sure I do, broadly speaking, stay clean John" Sherlock looked over his shoulder to face his best friend, "Do you promise?"

John's face softened considerably and he answered confidently "Not sure what broadly clean is, but yes. Of course Sherlock."

The detective nodded, "Good." Sherlock moved to sit back in his chair, thinking over how he should begin explaining everything to John. "Moriarty isn't back, the video clip was orchestrated by a man called Jonathan Blake".