A/N: This chapter's a bit different and longer. But that might be perhaps to prepare you slightly for how different and (probably) long the next one is going to be...

I woke up early one morning to a strangely cold bed. Throwing on a dressing gown, I trudged out of the room to find John sitting on the couch with his laptop, right where I had left him the night before. His eyes were fixed on the glow of the screen and he looked very into whatever he was doing. I frowned and moved to sit next to him, curling my legs beside me.

"Been here all night?" I asked quietly, leaning against his arm. John looked up, a bit startled. He frowned at me for a second before looking back to the computer.

"What time is it... Oh. Uh. Wow." He turned back to me with a grimace. "Sorry. I wasn't paying attention."

I craned my neck to look at the screen. "What are you reading?" I asked. He moved the laptop so I could see better and I quickly scanned the first few lines. "Medical journals?" I sat up, watching him carefully. He kept his gaze from me, moving his laptop back to its original position.

"Yeah. Just catching up on things I've missed in the past year and a half."

My mind was racing. John had never shown any desire to keep up on his medical practices. I had never considered it. I had always just assumed he wouldn't be interested, which suited me fine. I didn't want him to possibly be exposed to situations he couldn't handle without me by his side at all times. I stayed silent as my thoughts tried to make sense of this, watching John seemingly wrestle with himself for a few moments.

"I... I'm going to talk to Sarah," he said finally, eyes still fixed solidly on the computer screen. "See what she can do about getting me a job at the surgery again. I'll-I'll probably have to take some classes first, refresh everything, but I should... be able... to, uh. To work. Again. I can handle it, at least."

"Are you sure?" I whispered hoarsely. John looked up finally and seemed a bit surprised when our eyes met. I suppose my expression was unexpected, though I'm not sure what kind of an expression it was. Horrified, perhaps. Terrified.

"Yes..." he said slowly. "I am fine, Sherlock. And I'm continually improving. I don't really need you to babysit me all the time anymore."

I had never understood what people meant by having a lump in your throat. I did now. I looked away, unwilling to let the ridiculous emotion-the hurt, the fear-be so utterly obvious to John.

"No, of course not," I said quietly, forcing my voice to stay steady. I felt John's hand grab mine.

"Hey. It's not like I'm leaving or anything. It'll just be like before. I worked then, too, remember? And you've been off taking cases a lot lately, it's not like we've been spending as much time together anyway. This will just give me something to do while you're solving crime."

"Of course." Because I was being selfish. Yes. I was being selfish, taking cases, leaving John home alone. He had encouraged it, yes, but I didn't need to take so many. I could stay home more often, be with him. He didn't need to get a job, he didn't need to take that risk.

"Sherlock," John said forcefully. I didn't respond. He sighed heavily and reached out, taking my chin and moving my head to face him. I stubbornly continued to avoid his gaze. There was another moment of frustrated silence before he spoke.

"Sherlock, this doesn't change anything. I'm just... I'm just getting better. Moving forward. I thought... I thought that's what you wanted. For-for things to be like they were. Before. I just thought..."

I looked up to him in shock. His voice was shaky and small. On the edge of panicky. No, I hadn't been selfish for taking cases, I was being selfish now. By wanting to hover over him like a mother hen, not wanting him to make a single move on his own. What right did I have to stop him? He had far past the point of being able to make his own decisions. I knew that. I was overreacting over nothing.

I took both of his hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze. "No, I'm just being overprotective, I'm sorry. Why don't we go to the surgery today to see what Sarah can do?"

The surgery took him back with open arms. He didn't have as high of a position as he had before and he had been correct to assume he'd have to take some classes to refresh, but he had a job. Slowly and surely I saw him become more and more comfortable, rediscovering his little niche of life. It sounds ridiculous, in fact, it is ridiculous, but I would often find myself grinning to myself as I watched him start to really take the reins back of his own life and take charge.

And then there was that final step to things going back to normal. As much as they could anyway. It happened quite suddenly. I was rushing out of the bedroom and through the kitchen where John had already settled one morning that he had off.

"Where are you off to?" he asked.

I didn't even slow my pace, snatching my coat and pulling it on. "New case. Lestrade just phoned."

"All right."

I grabbed my scarf, wrapping it around my neck. Then what John had just said sunk in. I stopped, looking up to see he'd gotten up from where he'd been eating his breakfast and was now pulling on his own coat. He started for the door and paused, frowning at me.

"Are we going or not?"

There is a certain excitement that ran through my blood when given a particularly good case. This was a different type of excitement entirely. I felt my face split into a wide grin and bounced forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

"Let's get going," he said quietly. I took his hand and raced down the stairs. In my excitement, I wasn't fully aware of how quiet and submissive John was being. It was only in the cab on the way to the crime scene that I recognized John fidgeting uncomfortably in his seat.

"Sherlock," he said finally in a whisper, eyes locked on his knees. "Do a favor for me and don't make a big deal about this, please?"

Ah, yes. He was still recovering. We weren't immediately going to be able to fall back into old habits. Not yet. He needed to ease into this still.

I nodded, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Of course."

I don't know what makes me do it. I hadn't been thinking about it. The thought had crossed my mind, don't get me wrong, but I had not decided it would be a good idea. In fact, that had been the opposite of my thinking.

But then Sherlock walks out with that usual purposeful excitement and I don't need to ask, but I do anyway. "Where are you off to?"

It must be a really good case. He doesn't even look at me. "New case. Lestrade just phoned."

And now I'm on my feet and I'm getting my own coat. I don't even think about what I'm doing. It's like it's instinct. Which, honestly, it used to be, but not in so long. Almost two years, in fact. But I'm pulling on my coat and I'm walking towards the door. Sherlock has stopped, and he's staring at me, and it suddenly hits me why he's staring at me, but I really don't want to recognize it. But what am I supposed to do? So I stop, mind racing to figure out a way to delicately bow out of this. Maybe I'll just laugh it off and go back to my eggs. And then deal with trying ignore how heartbroken Sherlock will be.

"Are we going or not?" Really? Why have I suddenly lost control of my body? And now Sherlock's grinning and it's a grin unlike anything I've ever seen before and I don't feel so scared now with the prospect of going out and solving a crime with him. As long it's with Sherlock, I'll be fine.

He kisses me on the forehead. "Let's get going," I mumble and he grabs my hand and we're out the door.

I can do this. I know I can.

Sherlock's at my side. I can do this.

A/N: It is at this point that I will make my customary thank you's.

Thank you to everyone who has been a part of this story. Thank you to Olivia for being the one that I would freak out to and giggle to about this story and developments in it. For being the one that I would forward particularly awesome reviews and PMs to.

Thank you to every single person who has favorited, alerted and reviewed this story. I am still floored by the reception. I've been writing fanfiction for seven years and I've never had a reception like this. Thank you all so much, I really cannot express my gratitude.

Thank you. This has been an amazing ride, largely in part to you. Yes, you, reading this. I mean you.

I love reviewers and I live for constructive criticism.