John couldn't fall asleep that night. Instead, he was pacing in the living room of Sebastian's flat. His mind was moving quickly and he didn't notice Sebastian was up until his arms wrapped around his waist. He closed his eyes and placed his hands over Sebastian's, allowing himself to be lost in the feeling of someone holding him.

"John, I know you're thinking of him," he whispered into John's hair. Tears pricked John's eyes and he turned and buried his face in Sebastian's chest. "You need to talk to him. I'm sure he has a good reason for doing it."

John found himself unable to speak. He just let the tears fall and Sebastian felt him shaking from holding in sobs.

"Three years," he finally muttered. "Three bloody years and he just comes back without so much as a hint that he's alive. Who does he bloody think he is?"

Sebastian didn't say anything and a tear slid down his cheek. He didn't yell at John for being a fool and staying here when he should be back at Baker Street with Sherlock. Instead, his grip tightened around the doctor and they stood like that for a long while.

"John, I want you to listen to me," he finally said, holding him at arm's length. John stared at him and nodded. "Call him. See what he has to say."

John hesitated and nodded slowly. He knew Sherlock would be up. Of course he would, he's Sherlock bleeding Holmes. He took his phone and called the number he had never really deleted. When Sherlock picked up, the sound of his voice brought fresh tears to his eyes.

"John," Sherlock said, like he was saying a prayer.

"Sherlock," he said, voice cracking. "We need to talk."

"Tomorrow?" Sherlock suggested. "You can come to Baker Street."

"Alright," he muttered, closing his eyes. He didn't want to hang up just yet. He felt the comforting weight of Sebastian's hand on his bicep. "I just… tomorrow. Get some sleep, Sherlock."

"You too," was the reply. "I'll see you tomorrow."

John was grateful for that reassurance. He didn't think he could handle anything else. He hung up and allowed Sebastian to lead him to bed. He stared blankly ahead and curled up around himself. It was only when he realized that Sebastian hadn't moved that he looked up.

"Are you coming to bed?" he asked. Sebastian hesitated and shook his head.

"Nah, I need to do something," he stated, not looking at John. "I'll be right back."

John curled back up and Sebastian slipped out of the room. He walked down the hall to a room and opened the door.

The room wasn't as plain as the rest of the flat. A few posters lined the blue walls and a desk was neatly tucked into one corner, organized so nicely it could make a person cry. The bed was made, not a wrinkle or crease in the fabric. Under the pillow was a gun, one that Sebastian had become increasingly acquainted with during the year after Moriarty's death.

Sebastian looked around the room and felt his chest tighten. He walked to the desk and looked down at the phone on it. His work phone. The one he had been given specifically to receive his jobs. There hadn't been any received phone calls on it since that day. Jim had called that day just before Sherlock had gone onto the roof. Sebastian could remember the conversation with frightening clarity.

"What's wrong, boss?" he asked, eyes trained on the slim figure through his scope. He heard a slight chuckle.

"Nothing is wrong, tiger," Moriarty said in that infuriatingly airy way he usually reserved for his clients. "I just wanted to make sure you knew the plan."

"We've gone over it six times, sir," Sebastian sighed. There was a pause.

"Tell me again, Seb," he said.

"I am to watch the conversation between you and Holmes. If he doesn't jump, I'm to shoot Dr. Watson," he recited. "After that, I bring the car to pick you up."

"Very good, Sebby," he said and there was a slight strain to his voice. "You're good at what you do, tiger. It's an honor to have you working for me."

Sebastian's heart quickened. He recognized that tone. He'd heard it in soldier's who thought they were going to die.

"Jim, this sounds like a goodbye," he said. There was no reply. "Jim? Boss?"

"Sherlock's coming, tiger," he said. "I have to go."

He hung up and Sebastian was on his feet. He tried to call him back but his boss wasn't answering, letting that awful ringtone play. He probably thought it added drama.

The gunshot haunted Sebastian's dreams.

Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut to stop the flow of tears. He sat at the desk and put his head in his hands. He looked down at the black flip phone and picked it up. He clicked the only number in the contacts and held it to his ear. The message tone played and he choked back a sob.

"Hey, boss. Been a few weeks. I thought I should tell you, John and I are engaged. He asked and I accepted. Nice ring. He tried to ask me over a fancy dinner but Sherlock showed up. Yeah, the bastard is still alive. I don't know how. He jumped of a bloody roof. John punched him," he chuckled. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breathe. "If you're faking too, you better have a bloody good reason. I won't be nearly as accepting as John. A phone call or text or something would be nice."

He hung up and put it back on the desk. He put his face back in his hands and took another breath. The phone rang and Eye of the Tiger blared through the room. He jumped and scrambled to grab it. He looked at the text and his heart stopped.

Congratulations, Tiger. xo JM.