One More Miracle

by Lynn Heartnet

For a moment John was too shocked for rational thought, and he figured that Sherlock was a ghost or an angel. After all he was pale enough to be a ghost and beautiful enough to be an angel. A continuation of the two part story Dead, Defamed Drunken-part of the Stories From Baker Street collection.

6. Epilogue

Now that the hiatus is over my post Reichenbach story seems a little unneeded huh? Thanks for sticking with it this far, I feel like it wasn't as good as it could have been but I like having readers and your reviews have been great. Here's the last one, enjoy!

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John was staring again, he couldn't help it. No matter how many days it had been, he would always keep staring. At the very least he'd stopped taking his pulse or leaning in close to feel his breath going in and out. He hoped he was being a little less obvious about how he was constantly relieved that Sherlock was alive.

Not quite subtle enough though, as it would seem, because Sherlock turned back to John and stared right back into his eyes with a curious glance. John suddenly looked back at his laptop, pretending he'd only been daydreaming and not paying attention to where his gaze fell.

"John." Sherlock's voice rumbled deep in his chest as he reached out and pulled John a little closer. The two of them were sitting on the couch, John updating his blog and Sherlock pouring over a dusty book he'd been reading all day. The book now lay abandoned on his lap as he pursued the act of comforting John.

"Hmm? Yes?" John feigned distraction, as if he could pay attention to anything but that deep voice and that warm scent.

"You don't have to be so afraid." Sherlock muttered, pressing his lips to the back of John's neck. In the past few days he'd gained more ease in showing affection.

"It's a little hard...getting used to someone coming back from the dead." John tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but it was still there. Still there even though he'd insisted over and over again that he was fine now. Sherlock tilted his head as if coming back from the dead was an easy concept to grasp, and he was confused by John's frustration with it.

"John." He murmured again, and this time he kissed the doctor on the forehead. "I won't leave you again."

"You better not, you arse." John half chuckled half sighed. "Miracles don't come every day and I won't have mine running out on me."