Mary froze.

"What was that?"

"Don't, don't tell him."

"Does that mean that you..."

"Look I'll talk to him okay."

"Right now."

"Right now?"

"Unless you want me to get there first."

"Okay okay, right now."

He stood up and Mary crossed the distance between them in a single bound and hugged him.

"Good luck." she said, and John rolled his eyes.

Mary pretended to go to her own room but secretly she was perched on the top stair listening to every word.

John knocked on Sherlock's door. Surprisingly he opened it himself. He had changed. Jesus, it was his purple shirt. God help us all.

"Yes?"

"Sherlock." John's voice had done that funny squeaky thing, how interesting.

"Sherlock" he said again, clearing his throat, "could we talk for a minute?"

"Is it important? I'm restringing my violin."

"Well it's just, I mean, I just wanted to say that, I am umm, I'm really glad, you know, that you're alive and everything, and well, that I guess, I've really missed you."

There, he'd said it, even Mary would be proud of that.

Sherlock's next move was completely and utterly unexpected. He hugged him.

Mary started to squeal with joy but stifled it quickly. John stiffened, never, in the whole time he'd known him, had Sherlock showed him any sign of physical affection, but there, in his bedroom doorway, he was hugging him. So, he hugged him back, what else could he do?

In a matter of seconds it was over, and Sherlock had shut himself back in his bedroom, where the sound of his violin was emanating.

John stood there for several seconds, unsure of what to do. Mary approached him.

"There, see, I told him, and nothing happened."

"Nothing?! You call that nothing?!"

"Yes I call that nothing, he doesn't value me any higher that you or Mrs Hudson."

"John how can you be so blind?! Get him back out here! Tell him you love him!"

"Will you keep your voice down?!"

"If his death wont make you come to terms with your feelings what will!?"

"Oh my god Mary, you sound like you're in a Romance novel."

"Okay John, answer me this. That day when you saw Sherlock and me together, were you upset because it was me or because it was Sherlock?"

She had silenced him. That was a good sign.

"The fact that you even have to think about..."

"Okay okay, you're right. I was upset because before that day I thought Sherlock couldn't love, but then I realised he just couldn't love me."

"But he didn't love me John; I've already explained this to you."

"Exactly, so I'm back where I started, Sherlock doesn't love, he doesn't feel that emotion, it would conflict with his massive intellect."

"Now don't be ridiculous, Sherlock..."

"Me be ridiculous? I think you have taken the cake on that subject. You're currently trying to get the two guys you're in love with to get together, does that not strike you as a little strange?"

"Don't tease me about my hobbies; I don't tease you for being in denial about your sexuality."

They had to laugh. So much so that Sherlock came back out of his room.

"What on earth are you two doing out here?"

"We're just talking about how much we love you," Mary said, and she starting laughing again.

"I can't really see how that is amusing."

"Well, seeing as how you're married to your work and all that." said John, trying to salvage the situation which he felt had gotten completely out of his control.

"And you know, the whole high functioning sociopath thing," said Mary who was somewhat over-tired and emotionally worn-out after the day's events and may or may not have had a couple of drinks while waiting for the boys to come home.

"Well I'm glad that you two think so lowly of the man who jumped off a building to save your lives."

"But you survived." said John.

"But I might not have."

"But you did."

"Well, I may have survived the fall but I haven't had a particularly great time of it since then you know."

"But you were at Molly's."

"She hardly compares John."

"Hardly compares to what?" said Mary, accidently intruding on the conversation, but covering her mouth immediately afterwards, "sorry, carry on".

"Compares to what?" Said John.

"To you of course."

"Me?"

"You are an invaluable companion; I've told you this before."

"But you only meant on cases, not in general."

"Didn't I? Oh, my mistake."

"You mean, you missed me too?"

"Well, I suppose you could put it that way, but it was more of a case of..."

"You missed me."

"Fine, I missed you okay? I missed you making tea at all hours of the day, I missed your crumby knitted jumpers, I missed the way you act as my Conscience, I missed you complaining about me never buying groceries, I even missed the smell of your aftershave which I didn't even realise I noticed until you weren't there."

John and Mary's jaws dropped. Sherlock looked a little annoyed at himself.

"I umm, I had no idea you felt that way," said John.

"Well, now you do, so if you don't mind I really am in the middle of something."

He shut his door again, and Mary, beaming, was about to congratulate John on a good night's work. But to her utter amazement he looked as though he might burst into tears.

"John?"

"He missed me."

"Yes, he missed you."

"What does that mean exactly?"

"It means we're making headway."

"You really are insane, you know that don't you?"

"I don't think anyone who falls in love with Sherlock is totally sane."

John shook his head, "You can say that again."