The next few days went by in a blur for Sherlock and John as they made plans to go to Paris. John felt as if he were floating on air and that nothing could mar his happiness. He was wrong oh so wrong. For one day after going to get more supplies John came home to find Sherlock standing stock still in the small entryway of the house while Moriarty held a gun to his head.
"John, how lovely of you to join us," Moriarty drawled.
For a moment John was confused. "Rasputin, I thought you were dead?"
Moriarty threw back his head laughed, "Oh please. Killing me? That's so last year."
Sherlock frowned but didn't say anything.
John eased towards Moriarty but Moriarty's reflexes were lightning fast. "Oh, no you don't John. I am putting an end to this little romance of yours forever." After seeing the panicked look on John's face he laughed again. "Oh, John you are so transparent. I'm not going to kill Sherlock. I'm not even going to kill you. Oh, and I'm not going to send you through time in an effort to delete your memory of each other, for I know that no matter where I sent you two, eventually you would gravitate towards one another. No, I'm going to send you back to where there are no happy endings for you two." Moriarty then giggled, obviously pleased with himself. "I'm sending you both back to 221b Baker Street. I'm sending you home. Everyone wants to go home, don't they?" Then he raised his arms and John and Sherlock froze, rose through the air until they swirled around each other faster and faster, until all the was left were two DNA helixes that hovered towards each other until they morphed together in one DNA chain.
Sherlock opened his eyes and looked around him, he should have been happy, but he wasn't for he was lying alone in his bed at 221b Baker Street and he had no doubt that John was lying in his own bed alone as well.
Epilogue
Six Months Later-Christmas
Mrs. Hudson fussed around the room, straightening out garland and Christmas lights. "Don't you just love Christmas," she said to no one in particular.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and said nothing, Mary smiled and kissed the top of John's head as he sat in his Baker Street chair, Lestrade toasted a glass in Molly's direction trying to ignore the shape of her breasts in her tight black Christmas dress and Mycroft stood staring moodily into the flames of the fire that burned cheerily in the grate.
"Well, come on it's time for presents," Mrs. Hudson said as she began to hand out small jars of homemade jam.
John looked over in Sherlock's direction desperately trying to get his attention, for he had avoided John since Moriarty had sent them home.
Finally, Sherlock glared over at John and said, "What, what is it?"
The room fell silent as John said in a soft voice, "Merry Christmas, Sherlock and walked over and handed him a small package."
Sherlock frowned as he savagely tore the delicate paper around the package and threw it to the ground. "I thought I said no presents." Sherlock snapped and then paused as he lifted a small piece of amber with a small insect encased inside.
John smiled, "It's amber."
Sherlock looked over at John in irritation, "Of course it is."
John ignored Sherlock's tone of voice as his eyes took on a faraway look. "It's from the Baltic Sea area and it is said that millions of years ago an insect was crawling through the warm amber when the temperature of the earth plummeted leaving the creature frozen. You know fire and ice."
Sherlock laid the amber down on the table and said acerbically, "Fine, nice."
Mary laughed and then stopped when she saw the look on John's face. "John, are you okay? You look as if you're going to be ill."
John's face was pale and his small lips were tightly pursed as he said, "I'm fine."
Sherlock sighed left the room and came back a few moments later with a cup of tea that he held out towards John.
"No, thank you," John said as he scrunched further down in the chair.
John, take it, it's Chamomile tea," Sherlock said firmly.
John looked up at Sherlock and took a sharp intake of breath, "Chamomile tea," John whispered as Sherlock's fingers lightly touched his.
He then bent down as if to tie his shoes and whispered back to John, "Fire and Ice."
Mary had left John's side to look at the Christmas tree with Mrs. Hudson, Molly giggled at Lestrade's jokes, John stared into Sherlock's tear filled eyes, and the only one who saw everything was Mycroft. "And therefore, is cupid's arrow painted blind." He softly whispered into the flames.
Mrs. Hudson went to bed.
Molly and Lestrade shared a cab home.
Mycroft had a limo pick him up.
Sherlock went to his mind palace.
John and Mary went home it was only when Mary was fast asleep that John felt something in his coat pocket, it wasn't wrapped, it just lay there in his hand in all its glorious splendor, a blue Faberge egg. Sherlock and scrawled a note that he had carelessly taped on the outside of the object. "Saw this, thought you would like it." SH
