I'm sorry this has been so long coming and the quality isn't great. Truth is my Sherlock muse left me. Which is very sad and it's been difficult to continue. I'm hoping it comes back. I've been writing a lot of Doctor Who related stuff lately, and I'm hoping something turns into a full length fic. I want to write something canon orintated, like an episode or one of the books, that includes things I wish they had in the show. As well as just been silly, fun, heartbreaking etc. With some one off companions. IDK. As well as probably missing scenes, drabbles etc. Starting with Eleven because he's freshest in my mind and I love the adorable idiot.

Anyway...here it is. If the muse returns, I'll continue. I really want to continue. But I haven't even thought about how to include Magnussan. Or if I even should...If I had someone to bounce ideas off of it would be a great help.

Enjoy.

It wasn't as if he'd expected a letter. Or even a postcard from him. But something would have been nice. Something so that he knew his friend was doing ok. Mycroft kept them up to date but those updates were few and far between. And they said nothing about what Sherlock had been doing or how he was. Just where he was. Which apparently was Sussex. A boring, quiet area. Where nothing could possibly happen. That kind of place Sherlock would have hated before...everything. Maybe now that wasn't the case anymore. How much had he changed?

How much of the original Sherlock Holmes was still there? And should he be worried? People change all the time, as they grew and learn. As they experience new things. Sometimes the changes are good and other times they are causes for concern. Maybe a changed Sherlock would be a better man, but that wouldn't mean people wouldn't miss the old Sherlock. The best John could hope for was somewhere inbetween the man he was and the man he might be now.

So long as he was happy. That was the most important thing.

Fatherhood was almost everything Greg thought it would be. There were of course the sleepless nights and the smelly diapers. You'd think someone who was used to grisly crime scenes could handle a poopy diaper but the smell could be overpowering. It was worth it though. Every bit of it. Just to hold his son in his arms, watch him smile, or wave his pudgy little arms. It was what he'd always wanted, a child. And little Rupert was going to grow up knowing he was loved no matter what. Maybe one day he'd even have a little brother or sister to share his life with. Wouldn't that be something?

Rupert gurgled, a little bubble popping on his lips. "Yes quite right lad, it's time for lunch."

Greg lifted his son into his arms and placed him in his mothers. It had been worth it, taking time off work. He didn't have to miss a minute of his sons life. Oh just wait till he crawled or said his first word. With technology these days he wouldn't have to miss a thing. Though he certainly hoped to be there to see or hear it himself.

"Thank you dear. Didn't you have something to do?"

Did he?...Oh, yes! He was supposed to call John.

"Thanks love." He pecked his darling wife on the cheek, ruffled what little hair Rupert had and left the room.

He found the phone on his bedside table and dialed the doctor's number. They'd arranged a meet up at a pub the week before but it had fallen through. His fault, work and babysitting had gotten in the way. He'd taken time off work, but he'd still brought home some of the cold cases. Rupert liked to play with some of the empty manilla folders he brought with him to help organize the mess. He said play, more wave in the air and suck on. Good help us when the lad grows teeth.

"Hello?"

"John! Mate, how are you?"

"Good, fine actually. Thinking of changing practices though. There's an opening at the Verner Clinic. I'm thinking of applying to it. Closer to home."

"That's great! You should definetly apply. I never thought you were happy at the one you're at now."

"Yeah...this one looks promising. How about you? How's Rupert?" Honestly? Crying right now.

"Brilliant, and so's his mum. Got a hell of a grip too. He's coming along nicely. Listen. I was calling to apologise for missing you at the pub last week. I should've phoned."

John laughed. "Greg, you're a new dad, you don't have to apologise. It was just a drink. It's fine."

"Nevertheless, I feel bad, did you want to catch up this weekend? The tike will be with his grandparents." With Anna of course. They'll understand.

"I'd love to. This sunday?"

"Works with me." Greg paused before continuing. "Have you..um..heard from Sherlock at all?"

"No, only what Mycroft tells me. You?" Only what Mycroft tells him? He tells him?!

"No. Wait, Mycroft? What's he told you?"

"He hasn't-? That git. Sherlock's in Sussex right now. Some old cottage thats been done up. He was at a beach before that."

"Sherlock? At a beach? He's as pale as a vampire. Hopefully it did him some good. And Sussex? Well..wouldn't have been my choice of destinations."

"Yeah...well it was nice to catch up with you."

"You too. You let me know if you hear anything else?"

"I promise."

They both expressed a goodbye and hung up. Sherlock at a beach, now that was an interesting image. Before everything that had happened, before..Reichenbach, he couldn't see the detective ever being at a beach unless it was for a case. And he'd be all dressed up in a suit, coat and scarf. Probably complaining and insulting his curly head off at the poor bugger he dragged along with him. The sun would do him some good, Greg hoped he hadn't stayed inside the whole time.