A/N: Fun fact: Most of the time when I write these, music is playing somewhere within earshot of me. This last time it was the Sherlock soundtrack. Where would I be without YouTube?

SH Ships Sherlock-Thank you again for all your wonderful reviews! Although it occurred to me today you won't see these for a bit...I may have just pulled an Anderson. But the sentiment is still the same. I'm so glad you love it!

I would tell the rest of you to R&R, but every thing I could possibly say has already crossed your mind!

...

*Stayin' Alive starts playing in the backround*

"Moffat? Hey! I was just about to call you about the ending of Series 4...Oh, hang on. My readers are still listening..."

*end of connection*

John kept staring at Sherlock's wall of thoughts long after the Doctor had gone away to make some calls to UNIT and Torchwood to see if they had any confiscated apple juice. John had laughed when he said it; Mycroft just looked back at him and said, "Do me a favor. Don't let my name go on record."

Soon after Mycroft had left as well, claiming Sherlock's thoughts were no more than "…a jumbled mass of pictures from his old life that half the time were mere speculation." He really disliked that picture of cake staring down at him.

John sat there for so long, Sherlock woke up all on his own, and completely awake from the moment he opened his eyes. "Whewe's evewyone else? And why awe you looking at that?"

"Mycroft and the Doctor are out working, and I just want to see where your train of thought has taken you. But do you mind telling me what some of this is? It's hard to keep everything straight." It really wasn't, but to hear Sherlock say it out loud might just help John realize how far his friend was from his old self, and how much needed to be done.

"Well, okay. But I wanna do something fun with you latew in wetuwn. Like a favow." John nodded his consent, and Sherlock started his tirade. "I stawted by dwawing the thwee people I had the most infowmation about in my head, and dwew them on thwee diffewent pieces of papew. Then, I took the facts I knew and dwew something to wepwe…wepeweson…wep-we-sent…it, and put them in a pile undew each face. Aftew that…" Sherlock paused to inhale, "I hung each pewson and thing, and when someone had something, I connected them to it. And if two people had the same thing, they'd get a speshul connectow."

"The sticky note?"

"The sticky note." Sherlock confirmed. "Do you undewstand bettew? It's hawd to say exactly whewe to stawt, 'cause it's a jumble in my head to begin with…"

"Yeah…yeah, I think I get it, Sherlock. DOCTOR!"

The Doctor ran in. "What? What is it?"

"Any luck on that apple juice? Sherlock's got enough of his mind to take it, based on what he just told me."

The Doctor smiled. "Well, then, I've got good news. Pack your bags, boys. We're going to Toorchwood!"

The taxi ride to Torchwood was passed in quiet conversations, mostly with Sherlock commanding them. "I wanna play 'I Spy' again! Pleeeeeaaaaaassssse?"

"Sherlock, we play that and you answer every time within 30 seconds of us starting the rhyme, and continuing to talk with us without missing a beat. Play something that the Doctor and I have a fair chance at." John said for the fifteenth time in as many minutes.

"I Spy! I Spy! I Spy!"

"Sherlock, if you stop chanting that and quiet down for the rest of the ride, I can guarantee you a lollipop when we get there." The Doctor bribed.

Sherlock sat down and shut up for the rest of the way. John talked with the Doctor the rest of the time about meaningless things like the weather or lunch. But they both knew what they were both really thinking: If Sherlock's not ready, or if he's not careful enough, he could be stuck forever. A soft "We're here," from the man up front and a quick payment later, and they were being escorted into a modern-style building, where a man wearing a belt and suspenders was waiting for them. "Doctor."

"Jack."

"Thought I'd never see you again. New face I see."

"Yeah, it's been a while."

"Anyway, we're not here to catch up. We're here to talk about a certain boy hiding behind your leg." He knelt in front of Sherlock and smiled. "You must be Sherlock Holmes. Welcome to Torchwood."