A/N: This is very much bookverse, set several months after Empty House. (I know, what a shock, bookverse from me of all people?) Some parts might not make too much sense if you haven't read The Final Problem, though, as it has some stuff directly from there. On that note: Pre-Disclaimer Disclaimer: The quotes from The Final Problem contained herein do not belong to me; they belong, as stated below, to ACD. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and some movie companies own Sherlock Holmes. I don't.

Rating: K+

Summary: A late-night talk. Bookverse, post-Reichenbach.

The only light to see by was the streetlamp down below; the sun had set and the candles burned out hours ago. Still Watson stood at the window, peering anxiously out into the street, waiting for— There it was, the tall, shadowy figure walking at a brisk pace towards home.

His nature had become more wary in the past months, and it made him now remain at the window, watching for a tail to come creeping along. None did, but he kept a careful eye on the street until Holmes entered, remembering the damage done by fire to the same room he stood in now.

Holmes shut the door to the sitting-room and came up behind Watson so that his front was pressed to the doctor's back. Wrapping his arms around Watson's waist, directly beneath his folded arms, Holmes rested his head against the side of Watson's. "I thought you would already be asleep," he remarked.

"I was worried—you were out very late." Watson closed his eyes, telling himself to forget the hours of worrying. Holmes was here, Holmes was safe.

"Early, actually. It's just past two. May I ask why you've been so worried as of late?"

Holmes felt Watson shrug his shoulders, his motion sliding over the fabric of Holmes' shirt. "I know he's gone, but…the last few years have dismantled my calm. It's not important."

"I disagree, my dear. Anything that negatively interferes with your well-being or state of mind is, in fact, quite important. Would accompanying me more often allay some of your concerns?"

Watson smiled at hearing Holmes' fast words, offered with only the thought of providing aid. How Holmes remained this lucid at this hour escaped him. "It might."

"Then you shall accompany me next time." Holmes went quiet after several minutes, waiting to see if Watson would say anything further on the subject or perhaps provide some more information regarding his concerns. When no reply came, he cleared his throat, hoping to draw Watson into a more lighthearted argument. "So I am really the best and wisest man whom you have ever known? You ought not say things like that. My head will only grow larger for it."

Watson felt Holmes' lips curving into a small smile against his ear and reminded himself that Holmes was only teasing, that Holmes didn't know the pain associated with those words. "Yes—you are particularly difficult to describe, but I thought Plato was fitting. I, much like him, had just experienced one of the most painful losses I have endured."

"'That event which has created a void in my life,'" Holmes quoted, tightening his arms around Watson, as though trying to pull him closer. "I understand."

"Do you?" Watson turned his head as far as he could, but only could see the side of the aquiline nose and the barest glimmer of one grey eye. "It seems as though you mock me for my writing. I was heartbroken at the time I wrote that, even after passing through two years."

"I assure you that I am not in any way mocking you," Holmes said, seeing Watson's agitated expression. "I was merely attempting to ask, in my own clumsy, roundabout way, why you used such words to describe me when they cannot be true. I may be the wisest, but I surely am not the best."

Watson smiled. Of course Holmes, with his utter disregard for modesty, would claim that he might be the wisest man to live. "I wouldn't love anyone less," Watson replied, leaning his head back against Holmes.

That was explanation enough for Holmes, and when Watson yawned, head settling more limply against his chest, the detective unwound his arms from Watson's waist. "Nor I," Holmes said quietly. "Now, doctor, I think it's time for bed."

Aww. *wishes Holmes would cuddle me* Anywho, an analogy: Reviews are to me as chocolate is to a chocoholic. Yes, I'm addicted. XD Anyway, thanks for reading! More soon :)