Author's Note: Chapter Three! Woo! This was actually the first Johnlock fanfiction I'd ever written, so this one is a bit rough, sorry.

I was listening to 'Catch Me' by Demi Lovato when I wrote this. The song has nothing to do with this one-shot other than the words "Catch Me," but it's a good song if you want to check it out.

Constructive criticism and reviews are always welcome!

Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. The show belongs to BBC and the books belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.


Catch Me

John had never been happier than when he came home to the noise of Sherlock's violin.

It had been two years. Two long, terrible, boring, tear-filled years without the arrogant prat known as Sherlock Holmes. Two years John was happy to have behind him.

John came running up the stairs, never mind that old injury. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but Sherlock. Nothing mattered but his best friend, come back from the dead.

"Sherlock! Sherlock! Sherlock, please tell me that's you!"

No answer came, but John saw for himself. The audible sigh of relief, the smile spreading across John's face, and the slight brightening of his eyes made a smile break out across Sherlock's face.

"John. I'm glad to see you. I've missed you these past couple of years."

"And I've missed you, Sherlock. I've missed you and your crazy deductions and your arrogance and everything that makes you a prat and a git."

Sherlock simply smiled, but the tune he played on his violin became a bit lighter. He had missed home.


It had been a month since the reunion, and Sherlock had another case. Once again, said case had John and Sherlock travelling, this time to a small town in Scotland.

"Think, John. Think. How could this have possibly happened?" Sherlock asked the doctor, a grin spreading across his face.

"I don't know, Sherlock. But I'm sure you do. So why don't you just tell me?" John replied, obviously exasperated.

"John, think. Figure it out. I know you can. Think, John."

"I am thinking, Sher-"

But John's angry retort was cut off by the inn's manager. "Can I help you two?"

"Yes, actually. We're in need of some place to stay while we're in town. We're in from London."

"Of course." He handed John the room key. "You two boys have fun." He winked and smiled at John. "He's attractive. You're one lucky man."

People thought that Sherlock and John were an item quite often-almost everywhere they go-but this time was different. John didn't correct the man, nor did he cry out, "I'm straight!" in indignation. And Sherlock noticed, of course. He notices everything.

So here they were fifteen minutes later sitting by the fire when Sherlock asked, "John?"

"Hmm..?"

"Why didn't you correct him?"

"Pardon?"

"You always make sure to correct those who assume we are romantically involved. Why was this time any different?"

John simply smiled and said, "Because I thought quite often during the two years you were gone. I've realised that maybe I wish they were right."

Sherlock looked up in slight shock and he replied, "I wish they were as well."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I've been attracted to you since we first met. I'm falling again, John. Falling far and falling hard. But this time, I want you to catch me. Will you?"

John looked up, moved over to his best friend, brushed his lips lightly over his, and smirked. "Obviously."