The boys are back in this chapter, as I promised! Enjoy!

Beta: Pilikia18

It was good to be back, John thought, stepping out of the cab onto the pavement. Five steps, only five steps separated him from the familiar front door, and he took them eagerly, crossing the distance and then turning to look at Sherlock who still remained near the curb, watching him intently. When their eyes met, a small smile tugged at the dark-haired man's lips and he tilted his head, raising his right arm with John's duffel bag clutched in it and swinging the bag slightly.

"It's not like you to be so careless about your things, John," Sherlock said, his voice warm and unusually soft.

John, visibly touched by Sherlock's attitude, answered with an equally warm smile. "Well, then it's a good thing that I've got you, isn't it? Oh, and by the way, could you hurry up with the key? I'm a bit tired; all these day of lying around must be taking their toll."

Sherlock nodded wordlessly, slung a strap of the bag over his right shoulder and crossed the distance between them, pulling the key out of his jacket's pocket. His gaze swept over his friend's figure, noting the changes: a loss of weight, a paleness of skin, a labored breathing. John was still recovering from the chest wound and obviously feeling weak; Sherlock could see it despite all the efforts John was putting into his usual 'Don't worry, I'm absolutely fine' façade. So, after a brief hesitation, the younger man reached out and, carefully slipping an arm around his friend's shoulders, drew him closer.

John, a bit surprised by this turn of events, stiffened slightly and tried to pull away. "Sherlock?"

The detective prevented his attempt by tightening his half-embrace. "Shhh, John, it's okay. I'm just taking care of you as your partner. Partners are supposed to do this, aren't they?"

John, who clearly wasn't expecting to hear such words from his flatmate, stopped struggling and relaxed a little. "Yes, I suppose. But… Sorry, I guess I didn't expect…"

"Me acting like this?" Sherlock finished, sliding the key into the lock. "John, you should have known by now that I take all my decisions seriously. Remember our conversation not too long ago? As I recall, we agreed to go forth with our relationship. Therefore, I did some research…"

John, who was gradually starting to lean into him in search of support, gave a quiet chuckle. "Yes, I definitely should have known. It's so like you to conduct a research in a sphere, where people usually are supposed to ACT on their feelings instead of STUDYING them. But nevertheless, I must admit you're making quite a progress with the 'taking care' thing. Speaking of which: I think it would be marvelous to finally get inside, don't you agree?"

Sherlock, too busy with sorting out the new information his own body was providing, took a few moments to realise what John was saying. "Oh, of course," turning the key, he pushed the door open and carefully stepped through the door, pulling John along. "Do you need my help with getting upstairs?"

"I'm not sure", the doctor admitted, pulling away with some regret. "Let's see how it goes. I hope I can manage, but I don't mind you staying near. Just in case".

"As you wish", Sherlock let him go and took a step back, leaning casually against the wall. "I don't want to crowd you, so I'm going to remain here. Call me if you need me".

John nodded, grateful for his partner's understanding, and slowly pulled off his jacket. As he expected, the movement brought a flash of pain from his wound, and John gritted his teeth, trying to overcome it.

Sherlock, noticing his expression, automatically took a step forward, ready to support him once again, but John waved him away, hanging his jacket on the accustomed hook near the stairs.

"It's alright, Sherlock. Chest wounds take quite a long time to heal. And that, by the way, means I won't be able to chase you across London for the next month or two", John remarked, placing his hand on the banister and beginning his ascent.

Sherlock moved closer to the stairs, hovering behind his friend's back. "I'm aware of that. I spoke with your physician right before your discharge. And I intend to make sure you'll follow his recommendations to the letter".

John, who by this time climbed the first flight of the stairs, chuckled breathlessly. "That's rich, coming from you. I bet if you were in my place, you would fight tooth and nail if I had said these exact words".

Sherlock scaled the steps two at a time and stopped beside his friend. "That was before, John. Now we're together, and everything is going to change".

The doctor turned to look at him, raising his eyebrows. "Yes, we are, and yes, it is. But are you sure you REALLY want this? Because, to tell the truth, I feel like I forced you into this relationship with all that… flower history. I'm not going to deny that I have feelings for you, but what about you?"

Sherlock glanced away and started nipping at his lower lip thoughtfully. John gripped the banister with both hands, leaning on it for support, and watched Sherlock with patient understanding. A few moments later the detective finally met his gaze and cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "John… I…"

John shook his head. "Sorry, Sherlock, I shouldn't have asked. I know you are determined to make this whole relationship thing work, but it might take some time for you to adjust to the idea. And besides, we certainly shouldn't have this conversation on the stairs".

The detective, visibly relieved to hear that, nodded his head. "You're right, we can discuss this later. How are you feeling?"

"Tired", the doctor confessed earnestly. "And I could use your help with getting upstairs. I'm going to take a nap – an hour tops".

"Sure", Sherlock took a step forward and waited for John to place his arm around his shoulders then slid his own around his partner's waist. "Let's get you into your room".

They were in the middle of the second flight of stair, when the door of their landlady's flat opened, and she appeared in the hall.

"Sherlock, what are you…" she began, then noticed them together, "Oh, John, you're back! How wonderful! Sherlock, of course, told me yesterday that you're returning today, but he hadn't said, when… How are you feeling?"

"Not bad, Mrs Hudson. A little bit tired, but that's normal. Don't worry, everything's fine", John smiled at her and sagged slightly against Sherlock. The younger man looked at him with concern and tightened his arm on John's waist.

"That's good to hear, honey", the landlady responded with a warm smile. "I guess we can celebrate your return, then. I'll bake an apple crumble, your favourite", she hurried back to her flat, but Sherlock immediately called after her, putting his other arm around John, who started to lean on him heavily.

"Maybe in the evening, Mrs Hudson. John not just 'a little bit tired', he's practically exhausted, and needs a few hours of sleep. So if you can postpone the cake till…" he glanced at his watch briefly, "… seven, we'll be happy to invite you to our evening tea".

John rolled his eyes at this display of Sherlock's lack of courtesy. "Sherlock! Manners!"

Mrs Hudson chuckled with a delighted glee. "Don't worry, John, I'm actually happy that he's finally back to his old self. When you were in the hospital, he was so… unusually quiet and… sad… I started to worry".

John straightened a little and looked at Sherlock in surprise. The dark-haired man averted his eyes, obviously embarrassed. "Well, that's interesting news", the doctor used his other arm to pull his suddenly endearingly shy looking companion closer. "But now I'm back, and he has no reason to worry anymore. As he already said, I'm going to sleep a few hours, and then we'll be happy to join you for the evening tea".

"Sleep well, darling", the landlady said warmly. "We'll decide in the evening, where we are going to drink our tea".

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson", Sherlock said hurriedly, beginning to pull John further upstairs. "See you later!"

John was pretty much ready to strangle his impossible significant one – but he had absolutely no strength left, so he had no choice but to allow Sherlock to lead him the rest of the way to his bedroom and even tuck him in.

"Don't think you're going to get away with it so simply, Sherlock Holmes!" he mumbled drowsily when Sherlock pulled the blanket over him. "This conversation isn't finished!"

"As you wish, my dear John", came a tenderly whispered reply, and John drifted into sleep in a mid-thought…


When he finally emerged in the living room in the evening, Sherlock was telling Mrs Hudson about the recently finished case; but he stopped mid-sentence the moment he saw the still sleepy John in the doorway. Surprised at his silence, the landlady followed his gaze and broke into a happy smile when her eyes landed on John's figure.

"You're finally awake, dear!" she said tenderly. "Come on, have a seat! I brought the crumble, as I promised, and Sherlock was waiting for you to wake up, so he could start brewing the tea".

John, surprised once again, looked at Sherlock; Sherlock wordlessly patted the sofa and got up, heading into the kitchen. The doctor tracked his movements with a thoughtful smile, then crossed the room and sat down on the sofa. Something new was evidently emerging in Sherlock's personality – something unexpected, something unusual – but, at the same time that something was giving John a warm and comfortable feeling, which he was beginning to associate with the most important word in his life.

After all these lonely years, he finally found his home.

He found his home with a man who was currently carrying a tea tray back to the living room and answering his wide-eyed wondering look with a slight quirk of his lips and a twinkle in his amazing eyes.

His home was with Sherlock, and John found himself smiling happily in return.

He was home. The rest of the world could wait. Along with the bet which, as John was beginning to feel, he absolutely wouldn't have minded losing.