Disclaimer: I think I've finally lost Ian to Sally. Oh well, at least she promised me Lestrade in return. What'd you mean one fictional character can't give away another? That's so not true! I mean fathers give away their daughters all the time. I know it's not the same but…but…IT'S NOT FAIR! Fine! No one is mine and I make no money from their adventures in my little corner of the fandom.

A/N: This is the last chapter. Even for all my moaning about it I actually like this story. Not as much as the others but I still am glad I put in the effort. I also enjoyed writing the last chapter and this one as well. I hope you all enjoyed the ride. Thanks for reading. Oh, right…WARNING: there's a bit of language in this chapter. Seriously only a bit. One word.

Epilogue

Sally walked softly into the parlour of her flat carrying a cup of coffee in one hand and one of tea in the other. She stopped abruptly at the sight before her. How many times had she seen this same scene growing up? Hundreds? Thousands? A pang of memory had her nearly crying.

Ian was curled in a tiny ball on her sofa. She'd always found it amazing how small Ian could make himself when he slept. He'd slept on her sofa at least twice a week from the time they'd been tiny. She'd never understood why he preferred to sleep on a tiny sofa when a nice big bed was available but he'd never liked beds. He'd claimed that too much room was worse than too little.

She shook off the memories and stepped further into the room. She placed the coffee down on the table in front of the sofa and knelt down beside Ian's head. "Ian," she whispered. "Ian, it's morning." She ran a gentle hand through silky black locks. She loved his hair.

Burry green eyes blinked open and slowly focused on her. Ian's features brightened with a smile. "Mornin' luv," he whispered his voice husky with sleep.

Sally gently turned his hair loosed and smiled. "Morning, Ian." She rocked back and picked up the cup of coffee. "I made you some coffee." She offered it to him and he sat up, stretching out the kinks before taking it from her and taking a sip with a grimace. "Sorry," she smiled impishly. "I only had instant. Don't know how you can drink that swill anyway. Tea's just as useful for a caffeine jolt."

"Blasphemy," Ian muttered at her and drank a bit more of the bitter brew with a wince. "So what's on the agenda for today, Sals?"

Sally stood up and then sat beside him on the sofa, her free hand reaching for his. "Well, you need to call the brother…Blaine? Let him know what's going on with his sister, find out what he knows. Then we're supposed to go down to the station so the DI can take your statement. After that, I don't know. We do need to have a conversation at some point, Ian, about us, I mean."

Ian sighed and nodded. "Busy day then. Should I wait until after we go see the DI before I call Blaine, you think?"

Sally shrugged. "I think it's really up to you. If you wait you might have more information for him and know the right questions to ask or you could just call him now and tell him what you've got. Either one carries the same risks. Personally I think you should stay out of it with him for the most part. Call him and tell him Bailey's been arrested and that he needs to get to London. Let the DI handle questioning him."

Ian polished off the last of the coffee. "Sounds like a plan." He set the mug down on the table and stood up. "May I use your shower, Sals?"

The ring of the doorbell and then a frantic banging on the door interrupted her answer. Ian raised both eyebrows and eyed the door with faint alarm. Sally only groaned and stood up. "Knock it off, Freak!" She yelled as she strode for the door. "I'm not asleep! I'm coming!" The knocking continued unabated. "Make him stop, Dr. John or I swear I'm not opening it." She stopped a few feet from the door and glared at it.

Ian took a step toward her as the handle turned and the door opened with a flourish. "If you didn't want people simply walking through the door then you'd lock it, Donovan," the tall dark haired man said amiably. "We thought we'd come over and ride to the Yard with you." He reached back and tugged the doctor through the door. "Good morning, Kill," Sherlock nodded to him and then paused and those gray eyes raked over him, Sally and the room before Sherlock looked back at him. "She made you sleep on the sofa. Pity. She could have used the together time."

Sally flushed but otherwise ignored him. "Good morning, Dr. John. Would you like some tea?"

"Thank you, Sgt. Sally. Someone pulled me from the flat before I'd had a chance to make any." He gave Sherlock a mild glare.

"Hang on a minute," Ian finally exclaimed. He stared at Sherlock with wide eyes. "Did you just call me 'Kill'?" He asked, incredulous.

"Yes," Sherlock gave him a bored look.

"Why?" Ian's tone was nearly whining. "I never killed anyone."

Sherlock snorted. "It's part of your name and that woman did kill Robert Chatham for you, did she not?" He flounced into the room and flopped down on the sofa. "I quite like your new nickname. I do believe that you and I will get along just fine, Kill. You're more observant than most people and you defended me against the woman you claim to have loved your whole life. I was a stranger and John says I was quite rude…again. You didn't have to ask her to stop calling me Freak but you did." He folded his hands under his chin and stared up at the ceiling. "I suppose I should say thank you for that. It won't stop her, though. I don't mind it. She's not so mean about that name anymore. It's just a word now." He turned his head to contemplate the other man. "Sometimes I think she thinks it's really my name."

Sally snorted, rolled her eyes and tugged Dr. John into the kitchen. "You mean it's not?"

Ian ran a hand through his hair and sat in chair to the side of the sofa. "Fine. Whatever. I don't care. But Bailey killed him because she's psychotic not because of me."

Sherlock gave him a sharp look. "Quite. How did you miss that? It was quite obvious from the first time I saw her. You're an artist, Kill. You should be more observant."

Ian's jaw dropped. He glared at the other man. "How was I supposed to know that delicate and high-strung were Andrews family code for dangerously psychotic and in need of fucking hospitalization?" He spluttered.

Sherlock sat up slowly, blinked at Ian, blinked at him again and then threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, I do like you, Kill. You amuse me very much. We are going to be very good friends." He cocked his head to the side. "I've never had a real friend, aside from John, though he doesn't actually count since he's my husband. I think I'm going to like having you for a friend."

Ian dropped his head into his hands. He thought about all of his interactions with Sherlock thus far and found the other man amused him too. He was energetic and arrogant and a bit cruel but he seemed to have a childlike view of the people close to him. Not to mention if they were friends Sherlock might agree to sit for him. It'd be interesting to see if he could match the exact color of Sherlock's eyes at any given time. He lifted his head. "Okay, Shock, we'll be friends."

"Brilliant!" Sherlock grinned and jumped to his feet. He took two steps towards the kitchen and then whirled back around to face Ian. "Shock?"

Ian smirked. "It's part of your name and admit it, shocking people is your favorite past time."

Sherlock allowed another grin to pass his lips. "I told you we'd be good friends," he crowed and pulled Ian from the chair. "London awaits us."

SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW

In the kitchen Sally and John shared an anxious glance. Sally sighed. "I really hope London's ready for the duo of Shock and Kill. I know I'm not."

A/N: Well that's it for this story. I know I left a few questions unanswered but I figure any issues in Sally and Ian's relationship can be worked out through other stories. Hope you liked it. See you next time!