He had given up hope on seeing her again, a year passed, then another, then another. He and John still went out and solved cases, they still did the normal things but Watson noticed how he suffered from not having Amy around.
It was a cold crisp November she returned, Sherlock was working on an experiment when John answered the door. She looked like she had just gotten back from a black tie event, but her makeup was horridly smeared and her eyes red.
John merely motioned for her to come inside, he saw an anxious Doctor waiting in the doorway to his phone box as Amy climbed the stairs as quickly as she could in heels.
Holmes heard her, the sound of her breathing was familiar and he dropped a beaker to meet her halfway in the living room, gripping her as tightly as he possibly could. She burrowed her head in the crook of his neck, her shoulders heaving.
"I'm missed you." She whispered to him. "I can't anymore… the Doctor, space and time."
"What are you saying?" he said, hopes raising in his heart.
"I'm here, to stay." Her lips formed the words and she smiled feebly up at him.