Until We Meet Again

by loulouflowerpower

Sherlock/OC-Two years have passed since Sherlock Holmes and Amelia Wilson were forced to leave London while the rest of the world, including those closest to them, believed them to be dead. But returning home brought with it surprises, such as John's relationship with Mary Morstan and a new threat rising, so what does this all mean for our detectives? Will romance finally blossom?

7. Chapter 7 The Empty Hearse, Part 6

The Empty Hearse, Part 6

Night had fallen by the time that Sherlock, John, and Amelia climbed out of a cab and began to make their way quickly down the footpath near the House of Parliament, heading across to where a set of stairs where that led down into Westminster station. They reached the bottom of the stairs and walked across to the ticket barriers, slipping through and continuing on their way through the stations corridors, moving as fast as they could without drawing attention to themselves.

"So it's a bomb, then?" John said as they walked, glancing at Sherlock and Amelia beside him, Amelia slipping her phone back inside her handbag that hung over her shoulder, "A Tube carriage is carrying a bomb".

"You might want to lower your voice slightly," Amelia warned warily, casting a quick glance back over her shoulder to check that they hadn't caught anyone's attention. John wasn't exactly keeping his voice down. She looked back around Sherlock to him, "But yes, I imagine so".

"Right," he nodded, slipping his glove off and reaching into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

Sherlock blinked, looking slightly alarmed as he noticed him reaching for his phone, "What are you doing?" he frowned.

"Calling the police".

"What? No!"

"John," Amelia began calmly, placing a hand on Sherlock's arm, the three of them not slowing down in the slightest, "I know you mean well, but that's really not a wise idea right now," she said lightly, glancing over to him.

John stared at her, looking quite shocked that Amelia was the one telling him not to call the police when they were dealing with a bloody bomb, "This isn't a game," he told them sternly, "They need to evacuate Parliament".

"They'll get in the way," Sherlock rolled his eyes, "They always do. This is cleaner, more efficient," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small crowbar as they came to a stop outside a locked, grated maintenance door. Amelia carefully positioned herself so that she was blocking Sherlock from view of passing people as he began trying to force the door open.

"And illegal," John sighed, warily casting his eyes back down the hallway that they had just walked down.

"A bit," he admitted, just as the door popped open. He stepped through the door and held it open for Amelia and John to follow after him, shutting it behind John.

They set off down the dark maintenance tunnel, pulling torches out of their pockets to light their path as they went, reaching a set of steps that had a railing running along it. John fell back slightly and checked his phone.

Amelia didn't even need to look back to him, her attention focused on trying not to trip, "There's no point trying that now," she remarked lightly, already knowing what he was doing. Being a teacher did have its perks, she had been forced to develop eyes in the back of her head to make sure that the class was behaving, "You won't get a signal," she smirked slightly to herself.

John sighed loudly, slipping his phone back in his pocket, "Worth a shot".

They continued through the tunnel, walking along a narrow, grated walkway that had a metal railing running along the edge of a steep drop. They came across a steep metal ladder and made their way carefully down it, Sherlock going first, followed closely by Amelia, and then John. Finally, much to Amelia's relief, they reached the bottom and found themselves walking down a long tunnel that opened up onto the Sumatra Road platform. Sherlock immediately began to shine his light up and down the length of the track, searching for their missing train car, but there was nothing in sight.

"I don't understand," he frowned, confused.

"Well, there's a first," John muttered sarcastically, glancing at him.

"It has to be here," Amelia insisted, moving until the toes of her boots were almost completely over the edge of the platform, trying to shine her torch further down each side of the track.

"There's nowhere else it could be," Sherlock agreed, casting one last look up and down the track, before sighing. He brought his hands up to his face and closed his eyes tightly, thinking hard, "Oh!" he suddenly shouted, his eyes snapping open and he dropped his hands, taking off down the left side of the platform. Amelia and John exchanged a quick look, hurrying after him.

"What?" John asked, feeling as if he was missing something, and judging from the rather blank expression on Amelia's face, he wasn't the only one. They continued down to the end of the platform, where Sherlock leaped off, landing in the middle of the tracks. He and Amelia came to a sharp stop, "Hang on," he called to him, just as Sherlock began to head off down the train tunnel, "Sherlock?"

"What?" he paused and turned back to look up at them.

"That's…isn't it live?"

He shrugged carelessly, "Perfectly safe, as long as we avoid touching the rails".

Amelia sighed, glancing back to John, "I just love his definition of 'perfectly safe,'" she commented with an eye roll.

"Of course, yeah," John said sarcastically, shaking his head, sharing her feelings, "Avoid the railings. Great!"

The brunet carefully shuffled closer to the edge of the platform, biting her lip nervously as she eyed just how far she would actually have to jump to avoid the railing, "Good thing I didn't wear heels today," she said lightly, trying hard to sound cheerful.

Sherlock sighed and took a step back, until he was level with her, "Amelia," he gave her a calming look, opening up his arms, "Jump".

"I swear, Sherlock, if you don't catch me…"

"I will, I promise. Now…jump".

She really didn't want to, after all, it would be so easy for her to slip or twist her ankle and lose her balance, but she also knew logically that she was more than capable of making the jump. She was more than tall enough to make the distance; she had her past experience of being a ballerina as a girl to help reassure her that she not only had enough balance to be able to make the jump safely, but also the ability. But still…the idea of what could go wrong so easily frightened her, making her completely doubt herself and right now, that type of doubt was not only costing them time, but would put herself in even more danger.

She forced herself to take a deep breath and shoved all of her fear and nervousness away as she meet Sherlock's eyes. He gave her a nod and she smiled faintly, knowing that he was telling the truth when he said he would catch her, and slipped off her handbag from her shoulder, passing it to John to hold onto for a moment. She didn't think twice, she just simply leaped down. She stumbled slightly upon the landing, though it was more to do with the fact that she had practically leaped straight into Sherlock's chest, forcing them both to grab each other to prevent either of them from falling.

"Oh, God," she gasped, rather horrified that she had almost made Sherlock fall backwards. She automatically grabbed his arm and his coat as, at the same time, he grabbed her in a partial hug, "Are you…"

"I'm fine, Amelia," Sherlock cut across her, his tone calm, frighteningly so for a man who could have easily have died. He let her go and she quickly released him, too, "I told you I would catch you".

"Thank you," she smiled sincerely, feeling her heart rate finally starting to drop, "I'm rather flattered, Holmes, risking your own life for me like that," she smirked teasingly, winking, "My hero".

John cleared his throat loudly, making them both blink and look back up to see him eyeing them carefully with a frown, "Do you two want some privacy…" he raised his eyebrows.

Sherlock instantly lost any of the warmth and even the slight upturn of his mouth, growing serious as he looked back up to John, "Don't be ridiculous, John," he said, making it sound as if he was being a complete idiot, "Come on," he turned on his heel and began to stride off down the tunnel, not even waiting for them.

Amelia smiled to herself for a moment, before forcing the smile off her face and turning to face John, reaching up towards him to pass her back her handbag. John passed it down to her and waited until she had moved away before jumping, landing in the middle of the tracks. She reached out and grasped his shoulder, helping to balance him before they set off after Sherlock's retreating back.

"What's going on between you two?" John asked quietly, narrowing his eyes at Amelia.

"Nothing," she shook her head, sounding completely innocent.

"You were flirting, with Sherlock".

"Just a little bit," she shrugged, seeing no point in denying it. She had been flirting, after all, "I've flirted with a lot of men, John, and done a lot more. I was once a rich, bratty, party girl who enjoyed nothing more than to go out and get drunk, and see how many men she could flirt with".

"But this is Sherlock and you're not that bratty, party girl anymore".

"Old habits die hard, I suppose".

John sighed, growing frustrated with her flippancy. He stopped, grabbing her arm, making her stop as she raised her eyebrows at him in the torchlight, "Amelia," he said sternly, "Are you and Sherlock…"

Amelia sighed loudly, "There's nothing between Sherlock and I," she told him firmly, knowing perfectly well that she was lying, or at least on her part, she was. Sherlock's part, well, she really couldn't be certain about his feelings for her yet, "I flirt with him because it's fun to tease him and, quite frankly, he's not the most unattractive man that I have ever come across," she shrugged, smiling faintly, "It's just fun, I don't mean anything by it, nor does he. We're just friends".

He frowned doubtfully, but still nodded as if accepting her response, "Well, I suppose you two have always liked to tease each other…" he stopped, blinking as he gave her a startled look, "Wait, did you just imply that Sherlock flirts with you…"

"John!" Sherlock suddenly called back to them, making them look down the track slightly too where they could see him standing, half shadowed, though they could both practically feel him burning holes in them both, "Amelia! Come on".

John and Amelia quickly hurried to catch up to him, falling into step just behind him as they continued down the tunnel.

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" John asked, glancing back over his shoulder towards the other track running down the tunnel behind them.

"Sure," he replied simply.

"This is the direction of Parliament House," Amelia commented thoughtfully, doing a quick mental map in her head to figure out where they were. She might not be as good as making a mental map in her head as Sherlock obviously was, but after pouring over so many maps all day, she could probably draw the map with her eyes closed.

It wasn't much further up the tunnel before their torches light lit up the missing train car on the tracks ahead of them, just around a slight bend, "Ah," John smiled, catching sight of it, "Look at that".

They continued to make their way towards the car, when Sherlock noticed something above them, staring up at it, "John," he said, drawing their attention, "Amelia".

"Hmm?" he hummed as the three of them paused and looked up, only to find a massive, circular vent had been opened in the ceiling above their heads with several devices attached around the walls, connected together with long cables, "Demolition charges," he determined, shining his torch on the devices.

"Lovely," Amelia muttered warily, eyeing the charges carefully.

Sherlock looked back over to the train car and set off towards it again, Amelia and John following close behind him. John nervously took a deep breath and released it, trying to calm his racing heart as they approached the car, pausing to carefully check beneath it, while Sherlock shone his torch down the side it as Amelia tried to peer through the windows, but there was no sign of anyone. Carefully, Sherlock moved back to the driver's cab door and opened it, opening it slowly as he checked for any tripwires as he stepped into the cab. Amelia and John followed behind him as they made their way slowly into the car itself, shining their torches around as they moved along it, looking around at the seats lining the walls of the car. There was no sign of any bomb, at least, not on the surface.

John made his way down the end of the car, looking around for a moment before turning back to look down to where Amelia and Sherlock had paused in the middle of the car, Sherlock eyeing something on the wall, "It's empty," he commented, shaking his head, "There's nothing".

"Isn't there?" Sherlock said lightly, staring at the wall. Amelia and John looked over to him, shining their torches at the wall that he was eyeing, only to discover that there was a pair of red and black cables running, intertwined, along the wall and down into the back of one of the seats. He bent down and gently lifted the seat cushion up, shining his own torch carefully beneath it. He looked back up to John and Amelia, "This is the bomb".

"What?"

The colour drained from Amelia's face, her eyes widening in horror, "You have got to be joking," she breathed.

Sherlock turned back to the seat and lifted the cushion completely off it as he straightened, exposing a set of explosives that had been wired together in a small cavity within the seat itself, "It's not carrying explosives," he said, moving along to the next seat, lifting it's cushion to reveal the same setup of explosives hidden there, too, "The whole compartment is the bomb".

The three of them began going along the rest of the car, pulling up the cushions of each seat, only to find that every single one had explosives hidden within them. The entire car was rigged to the brim with explosives, every single seat.

Amelia swallowed, sitting one of the cushions down on the floor as she had lifted it up, finding more explosives hidden beneath, "Well…" she began quietly, looking quite shaken as she glanced back at John and Sherlock, "I'll give Moran this; he sure does go all out, doesn't he?"

Sherlock quickly cast his eyes around the car, frowning thoughtfully as he took a step back over to the middle of the car, when he glanced back down at the floor where there was a slightly loose panel. He tapped it with the toe of his shoe, before quickly kneeling down beside it and slipping his gloves off, reaching down to lift the panel up with his fingertips, revealing a massive bomb beneath it with cables running right under the car. Amelia and John stared down at it, John breathing hard as Amelia pressed a hand against her mouth, closing her eyes tightly.

"We need bomb disposal," John said after a long moment, looking back across to Sherlock, his face almost as pale as Amelia's.

"We don't have time," Amelia shook her head, dropping her hand from her mouth and wrapping her arms tightly around herself. She felt sick, horribly sick.

He shifted nervously on the spot, glancing back down to the bomb in the middle of the floor, "So what do we do now?" he asked hurriedly, trying hard to stay calm.

Sherlock released a long sigh, "I have no idea," he admitted after a moment, finally looking back over to them.

He closed his eyes and blew out a breathe, before his eyes snapped open and he suddenly turned to Amelia, who blinked, startled, "Any bright ideas?" he said urgently to her.

"Me?" Amelia very nearly gaped at him, looking shocked that he would be asking her, "I know nothing about bomb disposal…"

"You're twin brother was a terrorist who used to get his kicks by strapping bombs to people, you have to know something!"

"That was my brother, John," she reminded him, shaking her head, "It wasn't like he and I used to pop out to have coffee every weekend and he would tell me all about his plans. In case you've forgotten, James and I had been estranged since we were still teenagers, I barely even knew him, let alone spent time chatting to him about bombs!"

John looked almost frantically back over to Sherlock, "Well, one of you has to think of something," he told them sternly, shifting nervously again on the spot.

Sherlock frowned at him, glancing at Amelia, who looked completely lost as to what to do. He turned back to John, "Why do you think either of us knows what to do?" he questioned, confused.

"Because you're Sherlock Holmes and Amelia Wilson, you're as clever as it gets together".

Amelia stared at him, her eyes widening, "That hardly means that we can defuse a bloody bomb!" she exclaimed, "Just because we're clever doesn't mean that we know how to fly a plane…"

"Well…" Sherlock said slowly, dragging the word out slightly.

"Shut up, Holmes!" she shot him a quick glare, pointing a stern finger at him, "I'm trying to prove a point here".

He sighed, shaking his head as he looked back to John, "What about you?" he waved a hand down at the bomb sitting in the floor between them.

"I wasn't in bomb disposal," John said in a forced voice, struggling to maintain his composer, "I was a bloody doctor".

"And a soldier," he pointed his torch at his face, rolling his eyes, "As you keep reminding us all".

John looked back down at the bomb, eyeing the timer that was frozen at 2:30 minutes on top of the device, "Can't…can't we rip the timer off, or something?" he suggested, slightly breathlessly.

"That would set it off," he replied, shaking his head.

"He's right," Amelia agreed, bitting her bottom lip worriedly as she eyed the bomb, "It's a built in failsafe. Any attempts to tamper with it will only set it off".

"You see?" John's head suddenly snapped back up, looking between the two of them, "You know things, you both do".

Sherlock sighed heavily and turned away, just when all the lights in the car suddenly flickered and powered on, lighting up the entire car as they stared around in shock and alarm.

"Oh my God…" Amelia gasped, jumping back slightly as she looked down at the bomb to see the clock's timer start up, ticking down. She frantically looked around, desperately trying to think of how they could get out of this one as John groaned loudly.

"Er…" Sherlock quickly turned around, looking quite panicked.

"My God!" John shouted up at the ceiling, breathing fast as Sherlock began pacing, frantically trying to think, "Why didn't you call the police?" he breathed angrily, glaring over at Sherlock.

"Please, just…" he began, still pacing as he ran a hand down his face.

"Why do you never call the police?" he snapped furiously.

"John ,please!" Amelia cried, unable to stand the shouting any longer, not when they quite possibly only had a few minutes left to live. She turned on him, grabbing his arms, forcing him to look at her, "Enough shouting and fighting, please," she half pleaded, her voice growing stronger, "I refuse to die while we are fighting!"

John blinked, actually looking quite startled by the fierce and determined look in her eyes; even Sherlock was looking over to them with a mildly surprised expression. He took a deep breath and turned back to the brunet, swallowing hard as he meet her eyes, "Sorry," he muttered, and she nodded, releasing him as she went back hugging her middle. He glanced back down at the bomb to find the timer now reading that they only had 2:15 minutes left, his eyes travelling back over to land on Sherlock, "So you can't switch the bomb off?" he stared at him, struggling to keep his tone in check, for Amelia's sake, "You can't switch the bomb off and you didn't call the police," he turned away briefly, unable to look at him any longer.

Sherlock looked over to them, his face pale, "Go, both of you," he urged them, his voice soft, almost pleading. He pointed back over to the diver's cab, not taking his eyes of Amelia or John, "Go now".

Amelia frowned at him, shocked by the mere suggestion, "We can't just leave you!"

"Amelia…" he began.

"No," she cut across him, her expression hard, "Don't be so idiotic, Holmes. Even if we could leave and get to safety before this went off…" she waved her hand around at the car, shaking her head, "We…I couldn't possibly just let you stay here to die, that's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth. We stick together. Partners, remember?" she raised her eyebrows at him, swallowing hard, "Besides, unless we do stay and, at the very least, try to do everything that we possibly can to defuse this bomb, then we won't be the only ones to die. Our lives aren't the only ones at risk here, far from it".

The timer ticked down to 1:57 minutes as Sherlock stared back at Amelia, looking as if he had never seen her before.

"Mind Palace," John said suddenly, pointing at Sherlock.

"Hmm?" Sherlock hummed, his head snapping over to him.

"Use your Mind Palace".

"I don't follow," Amelia frowned, looking confused as she glanced between the two of them. What use would that be right now?

"How will that help?" Sherlock asked, seeming just as confused.

"You've salted away every fact under the sun!"

"Oh, and you think I've got, 'How To Defuse A Bomb,' tucked away in there somewhere?" he exclaimed, gesturing widely.

"Yes!"

Amelia looked quickly to Sherlock, suddenly feeling the tiniest bit of hope, "It's worth a shot," she commented quickly.

Sherlock paused for a moment, looking as if he was thinking very carefully as he glanced back to John, "Maybe," he nodded, and closed his eyes, pressing his fingers against the side of his head.

"Think," John encouraged him, his voice growing softer, "Think. Please, think".

"Come on, Sherlock," Amelia breathed, clutching her coat tighter in her hands, desperately hoping, "Come on".

"Think!"

Sherlock groaned loudly and suddenly opened his eyes, breathing heavily as he dropped his hands from his head, looking back across to Amelia and John, his expression apologetic.

Amelia's eyes widened, actually taking a small step back as it hit her, the truth of it all came crashing down onto her, "You don't know, do you?" she said quietly, her voice strained. He looked at her for a moment, his mouth thinning into a tight line as he nodded, confirming her worst fear.

"Oh my God!" John gasped, turning away, shaking his head. Sherlock whipped off his scarf and doubled over the bomb for a moment, holding his head in his hands, before he dropped down onto his knees by the edge of the bomb. John walked further down the car as Amelia turned away, her head ducked as she struggled to even know how to react right now with so many emotions swirling around inside her, "This is it," he murmured, realisation hitting him.

"Um, er…" Sherlock frantically reached into the bomb, uselessly searching around it for anything, anything at all that might be able to stop it.

Amelia sank down onto the floor on the other side of the bomb, her expression completely blank. Dying wasn't a feign concept to her, she had almost been killed or faced death so many times now that, or though she was far from used to it, it had given her a false sense of security that no matter what, she would end up surviving. She hadn't even reached her thirty fifth birthday yet, her mother had been thirty six when she had died, so was that going to be the same fate for her, to die far too soon and before her time? She had thought that with her brother gone, she would be safe to live a long, happy life, free to do whatever she wanted, but had she been mistaken? Was this it, her death? She didn't feel afraid, shockingly enough, she simply felt numb, a product of the shock that she was still experiencing, she knew and that in its self was a small relief. She didn't want her last moments to be spent scared, she had spent too much of her life feeling that way.

John stared off into space, his back still turned on them, "Oh my God," he whispered breathlessly.

"Turn that off," Sherlock mumbled, still desperately fiddling around by the bomb, "Oh God! Er, um, er…" he ducked his head, the frantic noise of him moving around the bomb growing silent as Amelia and John slowly looked back over to him, "I'm sorry," he said suddenly, lifting his head to look at them.

John looked away from him, screwing his eyes up as Amelia frowned vaguely, looking at Sherlock curiously. Something seemed…wrong, but she just couldn't figure out what. She was to emotionally compromised to figure it out, but every instinct told her that something was wrong, something about Sherlock's behaviour had shifted, somehow.

"What?" John looked back to him, opening his eyes.

Sherlock shrugged very slightly, staring back to them as tears began to fill his eyes, "I can't…I can't do it," he said softly, his voice chocked as he shook his head, "I don't know how," he slowly straightened, his eyes moving to rest on John, "Forgive me and Amelia?"

"Sherlock…" Amelia trailed off, blinking at him. Oh, if only she could make her brain work so that she could understand why she felt like she was missing something important. Why on Earth would he be asking for forgiveness for her? For him, she could understand, unless it wasn't actually about the bomb…hang on, did that mean…her eyes widened as it finally clicked, her head snapping down to the bomb. Oh, that complete and utter bastard! If she hadn't worked it out, she would have slapped him so hard that he wouldn't be able to talk for two days.

"What?" John hissed furiously, glaring at him.

"Please, John, forgive us…" he pleaded, ducking his head and bringing his hands together, almost as if he was praying, "For all the hurt that we caused you".

"No, no, no, no, no, no," he shook his finger at him, "This is a trick".

"No".

"Another one of your bloody tricks!"

Amelia licked her lips, looking back up to John, "He's telling the truth," she told him, making him pause and look back to her, "Please, just forgive us. This might very well be the very last chance that we ever get; we shouldn't die with this hanging over the three of us".

John swallowed, looking away from them both for a moment, before turning back to them with his expression tight, "You're just trying to make me say something nice".

Sherlock laughed very slightly, shaking his head, "Not this time".

"It's just to make you and Amelia look good even though you both behaved like…" he trailed off, grimacing as he fought back tears, scrunching up his face. He grabbed a nearby railing, grasping it tightly as he struggled to get control of his emotions before, finally, he lifted his head again, "I wanted you both not to be dead," he forced out in a low, furious voice.

Amelia lowered her head, feeling tears prickling her eyes as Sherlock pulled himself up off the floor, moving to sit on the edge of one of the seats. He looked back over to John, "Yeah, well, be careful what you wish for," he said to him, and John sighed, "If we hadn't come back, you wouldn't be standing here and…" John looked away from him, shaking his head as he continued, "You'd still have a future…with Mary".

"Yeah, I know," he cut him off, pointing back to him, before grimacing. Sherlock pressed his clenched fist against his mouth, as if holding back a sob, "Look," he turned back to them, his voice tight, "I find it difficult," Sherlock nodded, closing his eyes tightly as Amelia wiped tears away, her mouth closed tightly, not trusting herself to speak, "I find it difficult, this sort of stuff".

"I know," Sherlock said softly, looking back up to him.

He took a deep breath, swallowing hard before he straightened, looking directly at them both, "You two were the best and the wisest man and woman…" he paused, sniffing tearfully, "That I have ever known," he lowered his head again, releasing a hard breath as Sherlock and Amelia both looked up at him, their eyes filled with tears as tears trickled down Amelia's face, badly smudging her makeup. After a moment, he looked back up to them, "Yes, of course I forgive you".

"Thank you, John," Amelia breathed, truly grateful and relived.

He nodded to her and took a deep breath and closed his eyes, waiting for the bomb to go off…

…

Sherlock and Amelia sat side by side on an old brown sofa in Anderson's small, rather shabby flat, staring directly back at the video camera that was set up before them. Anderson was sitting behind the camera, staring back at them with wide, slightly manic glint in his eyes. He had been rather shocked to discover the two detectives standing on his doorstep for no apparent reason, but what had really made him pause was when they both agreed to let him question them while he recorded the interview.

After the detectives deaths, he had, well, gone completely off the rails and had become completely obsessed with trying to find proof that Sherlock and Amelia were still alive, going so far as to form his own group of like minded people, calling it 'The Empty Hearse'. Getting the chance to question the detectives about how they had managed it all and where they had been the last two years had been his biggest dream, but he had never quite imagined that it would actually happen. The rest of his group were going to be so amazed, he couldn't wait for them to see.

Amelia settled comfortably into the sofa, her hands clasped together in her lap and her legs crossed, "What you must first understand is that there was vital events that occurred well before our apparent deaths," she began, her voice calm and steady, her eyes looking directly down the camera lens, "James's criminal organisation was huge, it stretched out across the entire world".

"Its roots were everywhere, like a cancer," Sherlock agreed, his tone just as steady as hers, "So we came up with a plan".

"James had already made his first mistake," she continued, the corner of her mouth lifting very slightly, "Two days before Christmas of 2010, my brother payed me a little visit. I won't go in to detail of what we spoke of, but he did tell me that in the coming months I would receive a text message that I would follow exactly to the letter, otherwise he would kill four of my dearest friends, same would go if I breathed a word of any of it to anyone," she broke into a smile, "And that, in its self, would prove to be one of his biggest mistakes because threatening me is one thing, but my friends?" her smile grew darker and her tone took on a colder edge, "That crossed a line and I did the one thing he never expected me to do. I told Sherlock," she glanced across to Sherlock beside her, before returning her attention back onto the camera, "I told him everything, every last detail and, together, we began to form a plan in secret".

"Mycroft began feeding information about me," Sherlock said, his eyes fixed on the camera, "Moriarty, in turn, gave us hints, just hints, as to the extent of his web. We let him go, because it was important to make him believe that he had the upper hand," he glanced across to Amelia, "And then we sat back and watched Moriarty destroy my reputation, bit by bit, and make up the false story of Rachel Brook," he turned back to the camera, "I had to make him believe he'd beaten me, utterly defeated me and had complete control over Amelia, and then he'd show his hand".

"He would never have imagined for a second that I would have defied him, which is why it was just so simple to fool him into believing that I was keeping my mouth shut, but all the while we were busy. The months leading up to our apparent deaths, I was kept under constant surveillance my Mycroft's people and so, when the day did arrive when I received the message, we were ready for it. I did exactly as it said, made up an excuse to John Watson and simply walked away, but Mycroft's people couldn't intervene, not yet, not until the very last second. I had to let my brother believe that he had me and so, I let him take me. I might not have been able to determine what his end game was, but I had figured out months before that he would kill me and that he would do it by drowning. That's how his brain worked, he would have found it funny, but it was also another mistake on his part. It gave us exactly what we needed in order to save me, and so, while I listened to him ramble on about everything that he planned, I was rest assured with the knowledge that I was safe. Eventually the time came and I was sedated, only to wake to find myself in a locked car that was steadily sinking into a lake and with water rising, but still Mycroft's people couldn't intervene. They first had to get around James's people, but that had cost time and by the time I was pulled from the car at the bottom of the lake, I was technically dead. Thankfully, I was revived and no damage was done, but it was a near miss".

"While this was occurring," Sherlock went on, "I was having my own meeting with Moriarty. There were thirteen likely scenarios once we were up on that roof. Each one of them rigorously worked out and given a code name. It wasn't just my reputation that Moriarty needed to bury, I had to die, just like Amelia," he frowned slightly, "But the one thing that neither Amelia or I had anticipated was just how far Moriarty was prepared to go," he glanced at Amelia.

She was visibly grimacing, feeling a pang of grief for her brother. Regardless of everything that James had done, she still grieved for him, even now, he had been her twin and she doubted if she would ever stop grieving for him. He had been a part of her and even now, despite how estranged they had been and lack of any real relationship between them, it still felt like there was tiny part of her that was missing. He reached over and placed a hand on her knee, making her blink and look up to him in surprise, before giving him a small, grateful nod.

He nodded back to her and looked back to the camera, not removing his hand, "I suppose that it was obvious, given our first meeting at the swimming pool," he continued on with his side of the story, acting as if nothing had happened, "His death wish," he lightly pattered her knee as she closed her eyes briefly, ducking her head, his eyes still glued to the camera, "I knew I didn't have long. I contacted my brother, set the wheels in motion for the Lazarus plan to be initiated. And then everyone got to work. It was vital that John saw only what I needed him to see, that he stayed just where I put him, that way, his view was blocked by the ambulance station, his attention focused entirely on me on the roof. While he was distracted, my helpers moved an airbag into position in exactly the spot that I would fall, but I also needed to buy time in order for the airbag to be inflated. So…I spoke to him, until the moment was right. I needed to hit the airbag, which I did. Speed was paramount. The airbag needed to be got out of the way just as John cleared the station. But we needed him to see a body. That's where Molly came in. Like figures on a whether clock, we went one way, John went the other. Then our well timed cyclist…put John briefly out of action, giving me time to switch places with the corpse on the pavement," he shrugged, "The rest was just window dressing. And one final touch, a squash ball under the armpit. Apply enough pressure and it momentarily cuts off the pulse".

Amelia looked back to the camera, the corner of her mouth raising as Anderson stared at them, looking rather stunned, "We had the entire thing planned out," she remarked, shrugging, "Every single possibility had been considered and allowed for, nothing could possibly have gone wrong".

"It worked…" he smiled faintly, exchanging a look with Amelia, "Perfectly".

Anderson frowned slightly, "Molly?" he said, blinking, "Molly Hopper, she was in on it?"

"Well, you were bound to get a bit of your theories right," Amelia said lightly, the corner of her mouth twitching. Anderson gave her a startled look, making her smile widen, "Yes, of course I read them on your little website. I must say, there certainly was quite a few about me and Sherlock being secretly engaging or married," she laughed, shaking her head, glancing at Sherlock, "I read at least five of them on the cab ride over here".

Sherlock shook his head at her, though he did look slightly amused himself as he turned back to Anderson, who was looking a little pink, "Yes, Molly played a key role," he told him, getting back on track, "You remember the little girl who was abducted by Moriarty?" he asked him, raising an eyebrow as Anderson looked slightly guilty, "You assumed she reacted that way because I was her kidnapper. But I deduced Moriarty must have found someone who looked very like me to plant suspicion, and that that man, whoever he was, had to be got out of the way as soon as his usefulness ended. That meant there was a corpse in a morgue somewhere that looked just like me".

Anderson nodded slowly, "Clever".

"Molly found the body, faked the records, and I provided the other coat. I've got lots of coats".

"He really does," Amelia agreed, glancing at him, "One less was hardly going to make most people suspicious, if they looked".

"And what about the sniper aimed at John?" Anderson questioned, frowning slightly.

"Well done," she smiled slightly; surprised he remembered that little detail amongst the rest of the story. Perhaps she really hadn't given him enough credit, "Mycroft's people stepped in before he could take the shot. He was…invited to reconsider".

He reached up to rub his forehead, looking over to Sherlock, "And your homeless network?"

"As I explained, the whole street was closed off…" Sherlock reminded him, smiling slightly, "Like a scene from a play," he raised his eyebrows expectantly as Anderson simply stared back at them, looking thoughtful, "Neat, don't you think?"

He looked away from them, "Hmm…" he hummed, making Amelia frown slightly in confusion.

"What?" he asked, looking just as confused by his reaction as the brunet did.

He still didn't look at them, shrugging his shoulders, "Not the way I'd have done it," he commented, shaking his head.

"Seriously?" Amelia stared at him, unable to quite believe what she was hearing. Hadn't he practically begged them to tell him how they had done it and now he was just going to criticise their method? She would have loved to see him try and plan it out; she highly doubted that he could have done it any better.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms across his chest, "Oh, really?" he eyed him.

"No, I'm not saying it's not cleaver, but…"

"What?"

He shrugged again and frowned, waving a hand around in front of him, searching for the right words, "Bit…disappointed," he said after a moment, finally looking back to them.

Sherlock sighed heavily, closing his eyes briefly, "Everyone's a critic," he muttered.

"You just can't make some people happy," Amelia shook her head, rolling her eyes. Honestly Anderson really was one of the most impossible people, even more so, perhaps, then Sherlock. You tell him exactly what he wants to hear and it's not good enough. You just can't win sometimes. She sighed, focusing back on to Anderson, growing serious, "But we didn't just come here to tell you our story," she said, her tone growing firmer.

Anderson blinked; looking almost worried now, "No?"

"No," Sherlock agreed, fixing him with a stern look, "I think you know why we're here, Phillip".

"'How I Did It,' by Jack the Ripper?" Amelia raised her eyebrows, "Ring any bells?"

His eyes widened and he opened and closed his mouth for a moment, before ducking his head, nervously toying with the cuff of his jumper, "Didn't you think it was intriguing?" he looked back up to them hopefully.

"Lurid," Sherlock corrected, uncrossing his legs and standing. Amelia nodded in agreement, "A case so sensational, you hoped Amelia and I would be interested," he put his hands in his pockets, casually walking over towards his chair, "But you overdid it, Phillip, you and your little 'fan club," he sneered at the last two words, strolling around his chair.

"I just couldn't live with myself, knowing I'd driven you, Sherlock, to…" he trailed off, unable to finish that sentence.

"But you didn't. You were always right, neither Amelia nor I were dead".

"Quite frankly, I'm impressed," Amelia admitted, rising from the sofa and brushing her skirt down, fixing Anderson with a small smile. She was surprised; she would never have imagined that it would be Anderson that would be the one to figure out that they were still alive, though she did wish that he might not have let it completely rule his life for the past two years. The poor man might be more bearable to be around now, but losing his wife and very nearly his career was something that she did feel quite sorry about.

"No," Anderson looked quickly back up to the detectives, his expression brightening as he looked between them, "No, and everything's okay now, isn't it?" he focused on Sherlock.

"Yeah," Sherlock said, smiling as he continued to circle his chair. Anderson laughed slightly, looking deeply relieved as Amelia's smile became quite fixed. He stopped suddenly, looking back to him as his smile slipped off his face, "Of course you've wasted police time," he said lightly, making Anderson blink, "Perverted the course of justice, risked distracting me and Amelia from a massive terrorist assault that could have both destroyed Parliament and caused the death of hundreds of people".

"Oh, God!" he gasped tearfully, breaking down, "Oh, God, I'm sorry, Sherlock," he reached out and grabbed Sherlock's coat, pulling him closer as he began weeping into the fabric, "I'm so sorry," he cried as Sherlock could only stand there, staring down at him in complete confusion. He shot Amelia a desperate look and she hurriedly stifled the laugh that threatened to escape her, moving to awkwardly pat Anderson's back.

"There, there," she said awkwardly, not quite knowing what to do. She really didn't blame Sherlock for looking so helpless, she was feeling a bit that way herself and she wasn't even being sobbed on, "I'm sure it won't be that bad, I mean, Lestrade doesn't know who was behind the mock crime scene, there's no reason for him to know that it was you…" she trailed off as, much to her shock, Anderson suddenly released Sherlock and began sobbing into her coat, clutching onto the front of her lapels, very nearly pulling her down.

"Thank you!" he sobbed gratefully, "Thank you, I don't deserve…hang on," the tears stopped almost as fast as they had started and he lifted his head from her coat, frowning. His face was bright red and slightly wet, but he suddenly appeared to be very focused as he looked past her to where he had an entire wall covered in paper and notes. He let go of her and stood while the detectives could only stare at him, completely bemused as they watched him step over to the wall, "That doesn't make sense," he frowned up at the wall as, behind him, Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed. Amelia pulled her coat straight, shaking her head in mild exasperation, "How could you be sure John would stand on that exact spot?" he went on, "I mean, what if he'd moved?" slowly and quietly, Sherlock and Amelia crossed the room and left, completely unnoticed by Anderson, "Hey, how did you do it all so quickly? What if the bike hadn't hit him?" he narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "And anyway, why are you telling me all this?" he laughed slightly, shaking his head, "If you'd pulled that off, I'm the last person either of you would tell the truth…" he turned around, only to find the room empty.

Outside, on the street, Amelia and Sherlock stepped out onto the pavement, just as the sound of hysterical, manic laughing sounded down the hallway to them, coming from Anderson's flat.

"Oh, dear," Amelia sighed, glancing at Sherlock, "I think we broke Anderson".

"Let's go and get some cake," Sherlock said randomly, seeming completely unconcerned as he adjusted his scarf around his neck. He smirked very slightly at her, "I'm positively starving".

She smiled, unable to help her, shaking her head at him, "You really are wicked, Holmes".

….

John waited with his eyes tightly shut, his heart racing frantically in his chest as he stood in that train car and waited for it to explode, for them to all die. He braced himself on a nearby railing, taking a deep breath, when…laughter echoed throughout the car. His eyes snapped open, only to find Sherlock staring up at him as he giggled. Amelia was biting her lip, but when her eyes meet his, she suddenly bust into guilty sniggers that she desperately tried to stop by covering her mouth, but it really wasn't helping. He stared at them both, confused as he took a step towards them, only for his eyes to fall onto the timer on the bomb. It wasn't moving, just simply flickering between 1:28 and 1:29.

"You…" he began, unable to believe it as he turned away from them as they laughed.

Sherlock stood, giggling to himself, near hysterically, "Oh, your face!" he pointed at him, gleeful tears running down his face.

"…utter…"

"Priceless!" Amelia shook her head, grabbing the edge of a nearby seat, almost doubled over on the floor as she laughed. She did feel awful that they had tricked John; she really did, but his face! How could she possibly not laugh? She did have a sense of humour, after all, though she did half expect him to either faint or lunge at them again, "Oh, I'm sorry, John, but…" she trailed off, giggles overcoming her again.

"Your face!" Sherlock cheered, still laughing.

"You…"

He grinned broadly as Amelia pulled herself onto her feet, smiling widely, if a little guiltily, as she tried wiping the makeup off from beneath her eyes, "I totally had you," he smirked smugly at John.

"You cock!" John shouted furiously, glaring at him, "And you!" he suddenly turned on Amelia, "You…."

"Let's not call each other names, now," Amelia said with a guilty smile, holding up her hands in surrender.

"You went along with it! Oh, I knew it! I knew it! You f…"

"Oh, those things you said, such sweet things!" Sherlock continued, still grinning, speaking over the top of him, "I never knew you cared".

He glared at them both, pointing a warning finger, "I will kill you both if you ever breathe a word of this…"

He held up two of his fingers, shaking his head, still smiling, "Scout's honour," he assured him.

"Not a word," Amelia promised, forcing herself not to smile or laugh.

"…to anyone. You knew!"

"Well, not exactly," Amelia shook her head, biting her lip, watching as Sherlock squatted back down beside the bomb.

"You knew how to turn it off!"

"There's an off switch," Sherlock cut in calmly, looking back up to him.

John blinked, confused, "What?" he moved closer to the bomb, frowning.

"You have to have an off switch with a bomb," Amelia smiled very slightly, kneeling down by the bomb and pointing to where a small toggle switch was on the side of the bomb, just slightly out of sight. Unless you knew where to look, you would have found it tricky to find it, "It's a failsafe, John, otherwise terrorists can get into a bit of trouble".

"So why did you make me go through all that?" he demanded, his voice tight, trying hard to maintain his composer.

"I didn't lie altogether," Sherlock told him very seriously, his eyes flickering over to Amelia briefly, "I've absolutely no idea how to turn any of these silly little lights off," he laughed, turning away to wipe his eyes.

"Oh, look who finally joined the party," Amelia remarked, smiling broadly as she caught sight of something moving towards them down the train tunnel through the open driver's cabin door.

John followed her gaze to see the beams of flashlights moving along the tunnel towards them, the distant noise of walkie-talkie radios echoing through the tunnel. He shook his head, pointing at the lights, "And you did call the police," he huffed, annoyed.

"Technically, I did that," Amelia informed him, earning a frown from John, "I called them before we came down here, just to be safe," she sighed slightly, glancing at Sherlock, "I didn't know what he was doing at first, just to be clear, with the whole getting you to forgive us".

He looked away from them, closing his eyes briefly, "I'm definitely going to kill you".

"Oh, please," Sherlock slowly smirked, glancing down his front, "Killing us, that's so two years ago".

The three of them looked at each other and slowly laughed, though John still hadn't quite forgiven them yet. He sighed and shook his head, following them as they began to head for the cabin door.

….

The next day Amelia couldn't help but sigh slightly as she stood by the living room windows of Baker Street, carefully peering down to the street were several reporters and photographers were waiting outside on the pavement, some even milling about in the road. They were waiting for them to make their first proper and official debut, and to hear about them preventing a terrorist attack from very nearly destroying one of the most important buildings in the city. Amelia really wasn't looking forward to it and, judging from the small frown on John's face as he stood beside her, neither was he. In fact, the only real reason for why she had dragged herself out of bed that morning…well, aside from the fact that she was still sharing Sherlock's bed, was because they were having a small welcome back party. Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, and Mary had already arrived, leaving just Molly and her finance to turn up.

John shook his head slightly at the sight of the reporters below, before glancing at Amelia, who sighed slightly, "I'll get him," she said, knowing already what he was about to ask.

Amelia smiled at Mrs Hudson as she began to make her way through the living room, the older woman happily chatting away with Mary, the older woman sitting on a chair while Mary leaned towards her from her seat on the sofa. She made her way through the kitchen and down the short hallway to Sherlock's open bedroom door, finding the man himself smiling gleefully with his phone pressed against his ear. She lightly knocked her knuckles against the doorframe, drawing his attention to her.

"Holmes, we have to go down soon," she told him, sighing heavily, "I'm afraid we don't have much of a choice, the press are going to be beating down the door unless we tell them the story soon".

Sherlock released a long, suffering sigh and nodded, switching his phone off, "In a minute".

"How's Mycroft handling 'Les Miserable?"

He smirked, giving her a pointed look that made her laugh. That look pretty much said it all. Together they made their way down the hallway and through to the living room, Sherlock snagging a bottle of champagne as they made their way through the kitchen. He uncorked it as they stepped into the living room, making his way over to pour it into a glass that was sitting on the coffee table.

"Oh, I'm really pleased, Mary," Mrs Hudson smiled happily at Mary, looking quite excited, "Have you set a date?"

"Er, well, we thought May," Mary replied as Sherlock passed Amelia a glass of champagne, which she gratefully took and sipped.

"Oh!" she exclaimed brightly, nodding, "Spring wedding!"

"Lovely time of year, Mary," Amelia smiled at her, lowering her glass as Sherlock began pouring another glass.

"Yeah," Mary nodded, before pausing, "Well, once we've actually got engaged," she glanced over to John, who was pulling his jacket on, preparing to head down stairs.

"Yeah," John agreed.

"We were interrupted last time," she looked pointedly to Sherlock and Amelia, though she didn't seem to be overly annoyed or upset about it.

"Yeah".

"Sorry about that…again," Amelia winced slightly, giving them a guilty look as Sherlock simply smiled at Mary. She sighed and threw Sherlock a look, shaking her head, "Someone was very adamant that it just simply had to be that night".

"Well, I can't wait," Lestrade cut in from where he was sitting in John's old chair. He smiled and lifted his glass in a toast, making John look back to him with a broad smile.

Sherlock didn't even bother to take a sip of his drink, simply sitting it back down on the coffee table and making his way across the room to look out the far window, turning his back on them all. Amelia shook her head and carefully perched herself on the edge of the coffee table, sitting her glass down beside her.

"You will be there, Sherlock?" Mary said to him, eyeing him carefully. Amelia had already made it very clear that she couldn't have been happier for them; she had even offered to pay for them to have a proper honeymoon, something that John apparently hadn't been surprised that she had offered them. According to John, that was something very like Amelia to do.

"Weddings…" Sherlock made a face, "Not really my thing," he glanced back over to them and playfully winked at Mary, making her and Amelia smile.

Amelia leaned over towards Mary, "He's such a softie and he doesn't even see it," she commented quietly to her, rolling her eyes. If spending so much time around Sherlock had taught her anything, it was that there was a lot more to him then the cold, unfeeling persona that he liked to show to people. He could be sweet and gentle, even tender, and she just wished that he would show that side of himself more often. That was the real Sherlock that she saw when she looked at him, perhaps that's why she began developing feelings for him in the first place.

"Oh, believe me," Mary smiled softly, giving her a knowing look, "I see it".

The living room door opened, drawing their attention over to it.

"Hello, everyone," Molly called cheerfully as she stepped into the room.

"Molly!" Amelia smiled broadly, lifting her glass to her in greeting.

"Hey, Molly," John greeted her, moving back slightly from the doorway to let her move further into the room.

"This is Tom," Molly said, just as a young man moved into view of the doorway. Amelia and John both blinked, staring at the man in shock, before meeting each other's eyes. Amelia could only shake her head, just as stunned as John. She had never seen a picture of Tom; she was just as stunned as him. Molly didn't seem to notice anything, smiling brightly as she looked around the room, "Tom, this is everyone".

"Hi," Tom gave them a little wave, smiling a little awkwardly as everyone looked at him.

"Amazing…" Amelia breathed to herself, unable to take her eyes of the man. He and Sherlock could have easily have been brothers, if not twins. Tom was tall and slime, with a similar build as Sherlock, his curly brown hair was slightly shorter then Holmes's, but he still had prominent cheekbones and pale blue eyes. They even dressed alike with Tom wearing a dark coat, his collar turned up, and a grey and black scarf tied in the same manner as Sherlock's around his neck. She supposed she ought to have known that Molly would end up falling for a near clone of Sherlock, but even still, what was the chances of her actually finding a guy like this? She couldn't decided whether or not she ought to feel impressed or a little concerned that Molly was taking her feelings for Sherlock a tad far.

Lestrade looked at Tom and blinked slightly, "Hi," he said awkwardly, seeming to notice the similarities, too.

"It's really nice to meet you all," Tom told them happily, before turning to John, who was closest, "Hi".

"Wow," John tried to give himself a shake, "Yeah, hi. I'm John," he introduced himself, holding out his hand and shaking Tom's, still staring at him with a funny expression on his face, "Good to meet you".

Amelia stood and fixed a smile onto her face, moving to shake Tom's hand, too, "Hello, lovely to meet you," she began; trying hard to focus on what was different about the man's face from Sherlock's. It was starting to frighten her how alike they were, "I'm…"

"Amelia Wilson!" he cut her off, looking excited as he shook her hand excitedly, "Molly's told me all about you. I should have known".

"And you, it's like looking at…" she quickly cut herself off, realising that her mouth had run away with her for a moment. John was biting his lip and giving her a warning look, so she hurriedly smiled again and released Tom's hand, "It's just wonderful to finally meet you," she went on quickly, glancing at Molly, but she didn't seem to have noticed anything, nor had Tom, thankfully, "Molly," she glanced at her, "You never said how handsome he is".

Thankfully, for Amelia, Sherlock choose that moment to finally turnaround from the window, "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready," John nodded, casting Tom another quick look.

"Oh, please," Amelia muttered, closing her eyes briefly. She couldn't believe that she had almost slipped up like that; it surely had to be the shock kicking in. She never usually had an issue keeping her mouth shut about that sort of thing.

Sherlock began to make his way over to them, smiling slightly at Lestrade as he passed by him, but the smile completely slipped off his face and he came to a sharp stop when he caught sight of Tom, his eyes widening in shock. Slowly, his eyes travelled up and down the other man, while Tom seemed quite taken aback himself.

Lestrade stood and picked up the champagne bottle from the coffee table, looking over to Molly and Tom, "Champagne?" he asked them, breaking the awkward silence that had settled over the room.

"Yes," Molly nodded, still seeming to be completely oblivious as to what was going on right beside her.

Sherlock's mouth dropped open very slightly, staring at Tom, before glancing at Amelia and John. They gave him a small smile, Amelia giving him a pointed look and nodding very slightly back to Tom. He closed his mouth and slowly reached out to shake hands with Tom, before glancing quickly at Molly as he walked between the couple and headed out the door. Tom watched him go.

"Thanks," Molly said as Lestrade handed her a glass of champagne.

John and Amelia began to follow after him out the door, but John paused and eyed Tom for a moment before Amelia sighed, lightly nudging him forward before anyone could notice. They continued on their way out onto the landing, Amelia shutting the door behind her. She paused and gave herself a shake, before turning to see Sherlock looping his scarf around his neck.

"Did you, er…?" John trailed off, looking to Sherlock as he pointed back at the living room door.

"I'm not saying a word," Sherlock said quietly.

"Wise," Amelia nodded, glancing quickly back at the door, "Very wise, indeed," she looked back to Sherlock and smiled faintly seeing him glance down at his tied scarf, only to sigh and lift up his hand in exasperation.

John cast another look at the door, before turning back to Sherlock, "I'm still waiting," he said to him with an expectant expression, buttoning his jacket.

"Hmm?" Sherlock hummed, looking back up to him.

"Why did they try to kill me and Amelia? If they knew you and Amelia were on to them, why go after me, as well? Why not just go after Amelia, put her in the bonfire instead of me?"

"That's a very interesting question, John," Amelia frowned, trying to make sense of it herself. She really couldn't see any reason for why they would have had John in that fire with her. She could understand them kidnapping her, she was Sherlock's partner and it sent him a very clear message, but John hadn't even been talking to them back then, so why include him at all?

"I don't know," Sherlock admitted, looking away from them, his expression growing hard, "I don't like not knowing," he grabbed his coat from where he had it draped over the banister, folding it over his arm as he turned and heading off down the stairs. John and Amelia followed behind him, "Unlike your nicely embellished fictions on your blog, John, real life is rarely so neat," he commented, pausing at the bottom of the stairs to pull his coat on, "I don't know who is behind all this, but I will find out," he glanced back to meet Amelia's eyes, recalling just how shaken she had been over the entire ordeal. He didn't like dealing with emotions, but dealing with Amelia when she was crying was quite possibly at the top of his list for emotional situations that he wished never to have to witness or be involved with again. It made him feel…something, or rather a mixture of emotions that he wasn't used to feeling seeing her cry. He briefly reached out and touched her am, making her blink slightly in surprise, "I promise you," he said firmly.

She smiled faintly, covering his hand, "Thank you, Holmes," she said softly, before forcing herself to let him go.

John didn't seem to notice anything, or if he did he pretended not to, a small smile on his face as he eyed Sherlock's back, "Don't pretend you're not enjoying this," he told him.

"Hmm?"

"Being back here. Being a hero again".

"Oh, don't be stupid," he shook his head, adjusting his coat. Amelia smiled, looking at him knowingly.

"You'd have to be an idiot not to see it. You two love it".

Sherlock finally turned back around to face him, "Love what?"

John shrugged, stepping closer to them, "Being Sherlock Holmes and Amelia Wilson," he replied, making Amelia laugh and shake her head.

He frowned slightly, "I don't even know what that's supposed to mean," he gave him a look as he turned and began to head off down the entrance hallway, pulling his gloves on as Amelia trailed right behind him, reaching up to flatten her hair in preparation for what was to come next.

"Sherlock," John called from behind them, still standing in the same spot, watching them carefully, "You are gonna tell me how you did it?" he said to him, making them both pause with their backs to him, "How you jumped off that building and survived?"

Sherlock exchanged a look with Amelia, "You know my methods, John," he commented lightly, not looking back to him, "I am known to be indestructible".

"You wish," Amelia muttered, giving him an amused look.

"No, but seriously," John eyed them both, "When you were dead, I went to your grave, Sherlock…"

"I should hope so".

"I made a little speech. I actually spoke to you both".

"Yes, we know," Amelia said softly as both she and Sherlock turned back to face him. She smiled sadly at him, recalling that day well.

"We were there," Sherlock agreed.

"I asked you for one more miracle. I asked you to stop being dead".

"We heard you," he said softly. They stared at each other for a long moment before he took a deep breath, "Anyway," he turned back around to face the door and clapped his hands. He glanced back to Amelia, "Time to go and be Sherlock Holmes and Amelia Wilson," he smiled slightly.

"It's good to be back," Amelia laughed, grinning broadly. In a way, it really did feel like she was home again, being back here at Baker Street with John and Sherlock, just as it was meant to be.

Sherlock took a step towards the door, when he paused and grimaced slightly, reaching over to where someone had left his deerstalker hanging on the coat rack by the door. He put it on his head and adjusted it into position, but what really surprised Amelia was when he reached up to pull his scarf from around his neck and turned to her, lopping it around her neck without even pausing to ask her for permission.

"Sherlock, what…" she blinked, startled as she stared down the blue fabric already warming her neck.

"Just like the old days," he shrugged, giving her a quick smile before offering her his arm, which she slowly smiled and linked her arm through his, stepping outside together to be faced by the flashing of camera lights and shouts of reporters, with John moving to stand on the other side of Sherlock.

Together, the three of them faced down the reporter's questions, because when the three of them were together, they could face down just about anything.

Yes! One episode down, two more to go, for this season, anyway. I've already written about half of the next episode, but you won't be seeing that quite yet. The next chapter, while a lot shorter than normal, is also an originally piece. I can't wait for you guys to see it. I hope you liked it, tell me what you thought. Please review :)