A/N - I'm following a ridiculously short chapter with one that is roughly six-and-a-half times longer. This is the end of what I have handwritten, so chapter 10 will probably take a few days longer than any have so far. This isn't actually the end of the story, though. Not quite yet. I have other thing that will happen - starting with dinner the day after this. A quick note, though, there be John/Sherlock ahead. Also some kind-of implied Greg/Mycroft. And probably some Percy/Nico, but that's for later. Usually I don't give ship warnings, but this has a kind of abrupt shift into shippy land.

Also John and Sherlock's reunion is dramatic, but not in the way that most people would expect. I'm going to stop talking now, just read.

Nine: Catalyst

John was reading by the fire. Terra had gone out to dinner with her friends. Mrs Hudson was downstairs. 221b was quiet, for once. Then John received a text.

"Terra hurt, bringing her home. Needs help. Whatever happens, DON'T PASS OUT –SH"

SH. Only one person John had ever known signed their texts SH. This must be some cruel joke. Someone was posing as Sherlock and claiming Terra was hurt … but the text had come from Terra's phone.

Before he'd had much more time to process what might be going on, he heard someone kicking the front door.

He jumped up, ran downstairs, and flung the door open.

Standing in front of him was a very familiar man. Sherlock's appearance hadn't really changed since the Fall. Perhaps he was a bit less healthy-looking, but he was here. Alive. And alive was enough. John probably would have stood there staring for a while longer, if it wasn't for the small person in Sherlock's arms.

He was carrying Terra, who was pale, bloody, and semi-conscious.

"What happened?" John asked.

"I… I don't know," admitted Sherlock. "Do you still have that previously-unnecessarily overstocked first aid kit? She needs help."

"Bring her upstairs."


Terra awoke on the couch of 221b later that evening. At first, she was disoriented. Hadn't she been on her way to Sherlock's?

Then she remembered. She had been attacked by some House of Life idiot who'd mistaken her for an Egyptian godling. They caught her by surprise – she wasn't really prepared for a fight.

She did a quick check of all her apparent injuries.

Head wound. Superficial, but bandaged anyway.

Bruises and minor cuts on arms and legs. Smiley face bandaids on the deeper cuts.

Bruised ribs. Ow.

She'd been worse before, but that was not an experience she particularly wanted to relive.

She shifted slightly and – okay, ow. Bad idea, Terra.

John, who had apparently dozed off in his chair, woke up. "Terra?"

"John," she answered softly. "You got my text?"

"Your text?" John repeated.

"I sent you a text – 'help'. You didn't get it? How did I get here?"

"Sherlock found you."

Terra's eyes moved from John to the figure in the adjacent chair. She groaned. "Weeks of careful planning and he still just showed up at the front door." She looked back at John. "You're taking this better than I anticipated, though."

"Having something else to focus on helped. Might punch him when he wakes up, though," said John.

"I almost did so myself when he showed up," Terra replied.

"How long have you… known?" he asked.

"About five months," Terra admitted sadly. "I wanted him to tell you, but –"

"Something about my safety?" he guessed.

"How did you know?"

"Closest thing to an explanation I've gotten was him mumbling something about me not being safe until now."

"Did he tell you how he did it?"

"What?"

"The… fall."

"No – how?"

"Haven't the foggiest idea. I was actually hoping he'd told you, 'cause he won't tell me."

John laughed. "Five months, and he never told you?"

"Nuh-uh. He'll tell you, though. He'd tell you anything you asked if it meant you'd forgive him for leaving."

"As long as he stays this time, he needn't work so hard for forgiveness."

They didn't talk for a while.

"Why did he do it, Terra? Really, why? Why did he stay away for so long?"

Terra sighed. "He really doesn't talk about it much. But what I was able to get out of him was that the day he jumped, Moriarty had snipers aiming at you, Greg, and Mrs H. He said he couldn't risk letting Moriarty kill you. Spent the last three years getting rid of Moriarty's web so he could come home."

"Really?"

"Really. He's missed you terribly. Of course, being Sherlock Holmes, he'd never admit that. But he did. He asked about you ever single time I walked into his flat since we moved. Sometimes Greg or Mrs H, too, but always you."

"Oh."

They fell silent again.

Even in the dim light of Baker Street's streetlights, Terra could see that John was looking at the dozing detective. John had missed Sherlock quite a bit, but he'd had the advantage of believing his friend was dead. Sherlock had spent the last three years trying to ensure John's safety. John hadn't even known to worry for Sherlock's. John had had the support of other friends to help him get through Sherlock's "death". Sherlock had been alone. As far as Terra was concerned, John had gotten the better deal. It's far easier to move on after a death than after having to separate yourself from someone you loved. That isn't to say John had had an easy three years without his best friend. As a matter of fact, after Sherlock left, John's life never quite returned to normal. How could it, when "normal" included finding limbs and organs in the fridge and waking up to violin music at 3am? But John had just become one of the luckiest people in the world, because the loved one he'd lost had come home.

Terra sighed. Lucky duck.

She decided that, since she was awake, she would go upstairs to her own bed. The couch really wasn't that comfortable, and her clothes were still rather bloody (although it was dry now). She sat up slowly, ignoring the dull pain in basically her whole body from all of her injuries.

"I'm going upstairs to bed," she informed John.

"Careful on the squeaky step – don't wake Sherlock," John replied.

There was a brief pause, and then they both started to laugh. When Sherlock slept – which wasn't very often – he was notoriously difficult to wake up.

When Terra stopped laughing [ow], she walked up the stairs (taking extra care to squeak the loose floorboards loudly).

She abandoned her bloodstained clothes by the doorway and put on an oversized NCIS T-shirt and some pajama pants before collapsing on her bed. She fell asleep almost instantly.


Several hours later, Terra woke up and wandered downstairs. She found Sherlock in the kitchen. John wasn't in the flat.

"He's gone to work," Sherlock told her. "Left before I woke up. There's a note on the table."

Sherlock sipped his coffee while Terra examined the note. "What did you two talk about last night, 'Lock? What did you tell him?"

"We didn't talk about anything but you last night," replied Sherlock. "You were more important than talking about my non-suicide."

"So he didn't freak out or anything?"

"About my survival? No."

"I'll remember that."

"Why?"

"In case I ever have to inform someone that their formerly dead best friend is actually not dead again. Not that it's actually likely to come up again, but getting myself into danger seemed to be a pretty effective distraction."

"It was unintentional."

"'Course it was. Why would I want to get attacked, even if it was to help you and John? I was caught off guard."

"Don't let it happen again."

"I'll try. But wait, Sherlock, were you worried about me?"

Sherlock didn't answer.

"You actually care, don't you?"

"I try to avoid it. Caring is not an advantage."

Terra rolled her eyes. "First of all, whatever Mycroft has told you, it is. Secondly, OH MY GODS YOU TOTALLY DO!" She grinned. "I feel like I'm in some special, secret, super-elite club. You don't care about very many people."

Sherlock stared at her. "You act remarkably like a 10-year-old sometimes, considering you're 22."

"I could say the same for you, and you're older."


Terra spent the day curled up with Errol and watching Doctor Who (which John had convinced her to watch a few weeks ago and thank the gods for DVDs 'cause she was still catching up). Her ribs still hurt if she wasn't careful (obviously – such injuries don't heal overnight), and the bandage on her head was annoying, but overall she was quite comfortable.

At one point in the early evening, she was alone – or apparently alone – in the flat.

"You know, Errol, all this reunion stuff would be a lot more straightforward if they'd just kiss and make up instead of all this uncertain avoidance stuff. It's what Everett and I would do," Terra told her stuffed animal. She smirked as the creaking of the front stairs and the squeaking of the kitchen door both stopped. "Of course, you and I both know that won't happen because they're so gods damned oblivious. They're so in love it might be amusing if it wasn't so annoying! They both have these days when it seems like all they can talk about is each other, and they give each other these looks, and for the love of Aphrodite, I just want them to figure it out! Sometimes it's alright – cute, even – but there are days when it gets so annoying that I just want to lock them in a closet!" She sighed and looked back at the TV.

A few moments later, Sherlock walked into the kitchen and John walked into the sitting room. Mission accomplished, thought Terra. Or rather, it will be in like half an hour.

"Hey boys?" said Terra. "Campfire." Sherlock groaned (he hates 'campfires'), but walked into the sitting room and sat down in his chair anyway. John sat down on the couch, because Terra was in his chair. "Okay, you two need to talk. Sherlock has been dead for three years. You've missed each other. It's catching up time. Or forgiveness time, if that's what it's gonna be. But either way, I'm going upstairs, and you two aren't leaving this room until you're okay again, okay?"

"Okay," they mumbled.

She stood up and walked out of the room.

She didn't actually go upstairs though. The others would kill her if she didn't listen in.

"So… uh…" John's voice said.

"I'm sorry," muttered Sherlock's.

"What?"

"I said I'm sorry. I'm apologizing, John."

"I got that." There was a pause. "Why?"

"For jumping. For leaving. For not contacting you. For everything, basically."

"You're home now, Sherlock. That's enough."

Terra had to put a hand over her mouth to hold back an "awwwh".

"Er… did you hear Terra talking to Errol earlier? She's practically turning into another you, with the speeches she gives on cases. Talks to inanimate objects now, too. But at least Errol is cuddlier than that skull of yours."

"I heard her, yes. Speaking of the skull, I see you kept it. …Why?"

"I couldn't get rid of it. Or any of your stuff, really. It's all in boxes in your old room. My room, now."

"You moved rooms?"

"Yeah."

"So what Terra said, is it –"

"Yeah."

"You're –"

"- in love with you. Yeah."

"That's… good."

And then there wasn't any more talking. After making sure her phone was on silent, Terra crept back into the room. She snapped a picture of the now-snogging couple, then tucked her phone in her pocket. "Sorry to, erm, interrupt…" she said. "But I just thought you should know, Greg and Mycroft are coming for dinner tomorrow. They deserve to know Sherlock's alive as well. And Molly's coming, too, so I won't be a fifth wheel." She giggled. "Also I left Errol in here."

Without giving John and Sherlock a chance to respond, Terra grabbed Errol from the chair and then ran up to her room.

New Text Message

To: Molly Hooper

[image: Sherlock&John]

Under 48 hours. I win. Pay up at dinner tomorrow. -TF


A/N - So yeah, that's - yeah. There you go, loves.

A few things you should know:

1- Everett. At this point I'm not 100% sure whether the whole backstory for him will get into this, and if it does it'll be later so you deserve to know at least some of it now. He was a friend of Terra's who defected to Luke's side in the Titan War. He saved her life anyway when she was taken hostage by his team and paid the price for his actions with his own life.

2- As I said before, so far I've just been typing up what I already had written out in my notebook. This is a project I work on at school when I'm supposed to be focusing, usually. This chapter marks the end of catching up, though. So you'll have to wait a few more days than usual for the next chapter.

3- Sydney, you might well be the only person reading this story right now so I'm addressing you directly: Your reviews always make me smile so much because for some reason you like my writing and my OCs which is always such a great confidence builder. So thanks a hundred times over.

4- If anyone else is reading this, I do love reviews. So leave one, maybe? I mean, if you've stuck around this long you clearly have some interest in the story... So tell me what you think!

Less-than-three, dearies!