The morning sun crested the horizon and shone under the canopy of trees casting golden light through the tiny, green, spring buds. John stood in the back garden just outside of the shadow of the cottage and watched it slowly rising. He turned his head at the sound of the door opening, looking over his shoulder as Sherlock walked toward him, hopping from stone to stone and stepping over the flowers to reach his side. He approached John from behind, reaching out to rest his right hand lightly on the small of John's back.

John reached back with his left hand, threading his arm around Sherlock's waist and rubbing his hand up and down the soft blue fabric of Sherlock's suit. He pulled him close, until their sides were touching all along their length. Their thoughts were in accord with the peaceful morning birdsong. Their feelings for each other deep as the groundwater flowing beneath their feet.

"I love your house, Sherlock. It's so beautiful here."

"You signed the deed. This is your house too."

"We should put a bench right here so that we can watch the sunrise every morning once we retire. Don't you think?"

"Yes, I'll build us one."

"Do you even know how to use a hammer Sherlock, other than to break something with that is?"

"I'm not too old to learn."

"You're not old, Sherlock. You are timeless. You never change."

"I have changed."

"How?"

"I find that I no longer like living alone."

John closed his eyes. "Sherlock, if I can find a way, I will, but... I can't delay my patients anymore. I need to go."

"I know."

"What about you? Are you going to Croatia for the rehearsals?"

"No, I'll be going back to London as well."

"Yes, of course, the killer."

"I'll put your chair back beside the fireplace."

"I'll visit you as soon as I can. Besides I'm excited to meet this Eric of yours."

"Not half as excited as he will be to meet 'The great Captain Watson, retired' ."

"Sherlock."

"John."

"How would you like to be a father?"

"What? I don't know. I never seriously thought about it. Do you want to bring your children to Baker street?"

"The world that I want doesn't exist. I want my children. I want to live with you on Baker street. I have no idea how to reconcile these desires, but I want us to be together again."

"Solve it then."

John turned toward Sherlock. "What do you mean? I'm not the one who solves puzzles."

"No, you're the one who understands human nature. So solve it! Figure out a way for us to be together again."

John stepped back and crossed his arms as he thought.

"You'll have to keep the dead bodies at the morgue. Health and safety. Violet and William can share my room. They share a room now, so it wouldn't be much of a change, and Mary will insist on keeping the baby. A young child needs her mother."

"But... I'm not prepared. I don't know what kind of father I'd make. I can't imagine that I'd be a good one"

"No one is ever prepared, and I think that you'd make a fabulous father, Sherlock. And frankly I could use your help with Violet. She's already clever enough to sneak things past her old man, but I don't suppose she could hide drugs or a secret boyfriend from your observant eyes."

"I will try if you want me to. I do have one question though."

"What is it?"

"If Violet and William are in your room, where will you sleep?"

John turned to Sherlock and smiled as he looked up into his eyes. "We'll think of something."

Sherlock took a step closer. "Is this what you want, John?"

The phone on Sherlock's waist beeped then, and he pulled it out of his pocket. "New developments. The game is on!" Sherlock rushed back inside, and John followed. Sherlock turned the screen toward him as he entered.

"A double murder in the middle of a public square, but there are no witnesses."

"What about the cameras?"

"Nothing."

"Amazing. But ... the cab will be coming before long. I need to pack."

"John, I need you on this case."

"No, you don't."

"I want you then. You are a doctor. You know how well we work together."

"Maybe I can drop by to look at the crime scene, or visit the morgue?"

"I'll call you."

"I'll come."

John nodded then and went to the bedroom to pack. Sherlock hovered over the laptop staring at pictures and calling up news reports. He became lost in his work forgetting the passage of time until he looked up and saw John standing beside the door, bags in hand.

"So here we are," John said, his voice a quiet caress.

Sherlock simply stared.

"I'm leaving now?"

"Yes."

"But we'll see each other soon."

"Yes."

"So come here then."

Sherlock stood leaving his laptop open on the table as he walked over to the door to face John. "To the very best of times," he said.

"Ours are still ahead of us," John replied.

Sherlock reached out his hand, but John stepped closer wrapping his arm around Sherlock's neck and pulling him down to kiss his forehead, and then he touched his head to Sherlock's forehead, and they stayed that way for a moment, both of their eyes closed before John pulled away. Sherlock stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He very solemnly kissed each of John's cheeks the way that his grandmother used to kiss him when he was a child.

John smiled and said, "I'll come to you."

"I'll be waiting."

Their eyes met and locked together, then John looked down, his eyes glinting wet as he picked up his bags and backed out of the door, taking a good long look and smiling, before turning to march up the path. Sherlock put a hand on the door frame. His eyes soft as he watched John until he passed out of sight.

The sun had come out again and the day was loud with the calls of birds as a butterfly flew past. Sherlock didn't notice it, however. His mind was far away in London focused on a pair of bodies found in a public square, and the image of John back in Baker Street where he belonged.