Sherlock felt a sense of déjà vu as he stood waiting on the tarmac. He glanced up at the blue skies overhead, watching as the small dot of a plane continued to approach. In a matter of minutes, he'd be face to face with his best friend again.

Mycroft sighed and glanced at his watch. He motioned to the driver, who started the limo up again.

"Right on schedule. And have you figured out how to break the news that their son is a mass murderer yet?" Mycroft asked, a sneer curling on his face.

"No," Sherlock said, pursing his lips. "But isn't it your job to fix this, brother dear? Why aren't you off getting him pardoned or something?"

"Ah, the smartest detective in the world, yet still so naïve as to its workings, brother mine," Mycroft said with the slightest smirk. "I assure you, I've worked something out. At this point, it's up to Alex to decide."

"To decide what?" Sherlock asked, frowning, only to be interrupted as he noted the plane was beginning its descent.

Mycroft sighed and looked towards him again.

"I know I've been critical of you," he said. "But you have done quite well, you know. All I've ever done has been to protect you. I know now you need me to help Alex, and I'm doing the best that I can. Understand that if I had anything else to offer I would. But as of right now, only he can fix things."

"You did it then?" Johann asked, looking up at his uncle with a frown.

Mycroft glanced at his nephew dismissively. "I always keep my promises." He sighed. "And they were quite welcome to your idea."

Sherlock tried to discern the meaning behind Mycroft's words. But before he could ask a question, the plane made its descent onto the tarmac, slowing down before turning down the runway to come towards them.

He found himself peering at the windows, looking for signs of the people he loved. But the angle wasn't right. Sherlock shifted back and forth, doing his best to steady himself. Even after all these years, he couldn't prepare himself for what he was feeling right now.

Johann's hand slipped into his, and he found himself smiling in spite of everything. He clasped onto those smaller fingers, thinking to himself that it had only been yesterday that this had been Alex's hand in his.

"Everything will be all right," Johann whispered.

He nodded, but it was impossible for him to find words as the stairs were pushed into place and the door finally opened.

A familiar short figure stepped out, moving onto the steps. Sherlock's grin widened as he watched that odd walk, the slightest hint of a limp combined with an odd shuffle he had memorized back in the day.

John had changed some, true. Sherlock couldn't say he was surprised to see many more gray hairs than he'd remembered, and a few more pounds around the waist as well. The face he'd come to accept as a part of his daily life had gained a few more wrinkles around the eyes and mouth, but as of the moment, Sherlock was only looking at John's stunning smile.

"Christ Sherlock," John muttered as he took the steps a little faster. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

Sherlock pulled his hand from Johann's before dashing the last few steps up to the stairway, pausing at the bottom and examining John with an intent to deduce everything that had happened while he was gone. But John's smile was enough for him. Confirmation that all was well no matter what had occurred in the past.

"Oh come 'ere you," John said and reached out to pull Sherlock into a rib crushing hug.

"Don't let my husband cause you physical harm please, Sherlock," came a voice from the top.

He looked up to see Mary standing there, smiling as she gazed down at the two of them. Like John, there were obvious changes, but her smile and her intelligent eyes still had that same sharpness, and for a moment Sherlock was reminded that while it was easy to see John in Alex, Mary had her parts too.

"Oh come now, it's been years," John pointed out. "Surely I'm allowed to give him a hug."

Mary rolled her eyes before addressing Sherlock. "He's been bouncing in his seat for the last two hours," she said. "I'm just glad we're here, that's all I can say."

"Pleasure to see you again too, Mary," Sherlock said as he managed to extricate himself from John.

"Well, John seems to have overestimated your talents as always," Mary said with a wry smile. "He told me you'd have us out of Moriarty's clutches by a year."

"Well, I was a bit preoccupied," Sherlock said. "All things considered I'd say a dozen isn't all that bad."

John chuckled before glancing back. Sherlock caught sight of where the last figure besides the pilot was emerging.

A young girl was stepping timidly out onto the steps. Her arms wrapped around a notebook clutched to her chest. Even without context, Sherlock could easily have figured out who she was. Small statured, yet not without a sense of confidence. Blond hair swept back into a ponytail and expressive blue eyes he knew so well from the last twelve years learning them.

"Well, I suppose I have to introduce you two, given that the last time you met she was in the womb," John said with a smile. "Meet Sherlock."

It took Sherlock a moment to realize that John was gesturing to the girl instead of to himself.

"Are you…suggesting that you named your… John, you did realize that the comment about Sherlock being a girl's name was a joke," Sherlock said, eyeing the girl in concern.

John grinned and shook his head. "Oh Sherlock, never one to learn. I'm pulling your leg. This is Hope."

Sherlock swallowed to keep the emotions currently choking him from breaking through. Hope. How aptly named for the thing that had kept Sherlock and the Watsons both going for so many years.

"Come here darling," Mary said. "This is Sherlock. He's practically an uncle to you. I mean, from all the stories your father has told you...you probably already know that don't you?"

Hope gave a half smile though she did mostly glance at her shoes.

"It's nice to meet you," she said.

"And you as well, Miss Watson," Sherlock said. "I have been waiting to meet you for a long time. Though you are quite a bit bigger than I'd imagined you'd be on our first meeting."

John just chuckled and glanced back towards the two figures by the car. "Oh and Mycroft. Why am I not surprised. Guess he was the one who arranged the whole extraction and everything."

"Not exactly," Sherlock said.

"And who's that with him?" John asked, peering towards the limo. "Why's Mycroft got a kid here? Dear god, please tell me Mycroft didn't somehow reproduce. Or did he just go ahead and clone himself?"

Sherlock sighed and turned around to make a waving motion at Johann. The boy seemed to get the message and came their way.

"No. There's someone you need to meet as well, John," Sherlock said.

He pulled his friend closer, watching with a smile as Johann came towards them, curious yet reserved.

"He's got the Holmes tall lanky body," John joked. "You sure he's not Mycroft's?"

"He's not," Sherlock said. "Because he's mine. John…I'd like you to meet Johann, my son."

There was a moment where John stared between the two of them.

"Wait…er…hold on…" he glanced back and forth a few more times. "What's going on? I think I misheard you…"

Mary snorted from behind him.

"I'm sure you heard me," Sherlock said, shifting a bit uncomfortably. "But to clarify, Johann is my son. I'd like you to meet him."

John's jaw had dropped, mouth agape as he stared at Johann. Mary was positively smirking, folding her arms as she watched her husband's puzzlement.

"Hold on…you…how…er…did I miss something?" John said, glancing back at Sherlock. "What happened to 'not really my area?'"

Sherlock smiled. "I adopted a child, found out how much I loved having a family. And in losing the battle I lost the whole war. So yes, here you'll find me with a child of my own."

"And er…are you…married?" John asked, squinting at Sherlock's hand.

"Not yet," Sherlock said. "But…to be honest I was actually waiting on you. I…" he broke off, clearing his throat, "John, I would love to have you as my best man…if you're willing."

John blinked a few times, clearly trying to straighten out his thoughts. Between the shock of the moment and his jetlag, it took him a minute or so before he answered.

"Of course," John said, voice sounding slightly choked. "Of course I'd be your best man." He let out something halfway between a sob and a laugh. "Oh come here you."

And before Sherlock could say anything John was pulling him into another tight embrace. Sherlock surrendered to it, merely glad to have those familiar arms around him again.

"I'd propose to her first though, Sherlock," Mary said with a smirk.

He looked up at her and nodded, realizing she was right. He had to ask Molly. And this time, he knew he didn't need a fancy dinner or any grand romantic speeches. He knew exactly how to ask. Sherlock smiled at the thought, hoping it would go as well as he imagined it would. After all, she had sounded willing to wait until he'd defeated Moriarty. She'd sounded interested.

"Er…dare I ask who the lucky lady is?" John asked, frowning, pulling away enough to give Sherlock a quizzical look. "I mean, she must be quite spectacular to make you consider going through with marriage. After everything you said at my wedding… dear god she must be an angel or something."

"No, she's not a ridiculous fantasy creature," Sherlock said with a snort. Though even he had to admit that Molly could indeed be an angel in some layman's imagination. Lovely and smart, so perfectly capable. And by the fact that she'd saved him so many times over.

"So?"

"Oh John," Mary said with a sigh. "Just look at the boy's eyes for heaven's sake! Or his nose."

John peered at Johann for a moment, trying to figure out what Mary had already discerned. Johann put on his best smile and stood there.

"Er…"

"My last name really should be Holmes-Hooper," Johann said with a small shy smile. "Especially considering they're not married and all. But mum's a bit traditional in her own ways. So Johann Holmes it was."

"Hooper?" John gasped. "Molly Hooper? You've got to be having me on!"

"I'm afraid not," Sherlock said with a smile.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Watson," Johann said. "If nothing else. Alex looks so much like you, though I can see a little of Mrs. Watson in him too."

Mary smiled at that, reaching out to put a hand on Hope's shoulder.

"So…you took him in then?" John asked, glancing at Sherlock. "And how did that go?"

"Much better than might have been expected," Mycroft drawled as he stepped forward. "I assure you, John, I'd never have let him keep the boy had he not done a decent job of it."

John eyed Sherlock over. "So the drugs?"

"I'm done with all that," Sherlock said with a wave of his hand. "I don't need it."

He didn't admit that this was easier said than done. But this wasn't a day to get too caught up on the facts. He'd let John believe the better story for now.

"What's he turned out like then?" John asked, straightening up some. "Our son…what's he like?"

"Like you," Sherlock said automatically. "Though I do think he's a tad bit smarter."

"He's captain of the football team," Johann added. "And a black belt. And he does running and shooting in his spare time. The rare moments he has besides that he loves to read. He usually curls up with Westley (that's his cat) and he picks out a book and just lays there for a few minutes absorbing it."

"And," Mycroft said calmly, "while he's a brilliant and fully capable young man…I'm afraid we have some bad news for you."

Sherlock swallowed and closed his eyes. If Mycroft was willing to do this for him, he'd allow his brother to speak for once.

"Alexander is currently in the hospital," Mycroft said.

Sherlock opened his eyes to look at John and Mary, noticing the way John's eyes filled with worry and grief, how Mary tensed as though ready to make a run if she needed to. Hope just frowned and glanced at both of her parents, drawing closer to Mary.

Mycroft held up a hand. "Before you ask, he is fine. He took a bullet to the shoulder in the capture of Moriarty. But he will heal and should recover nicely. But…I should make you aware that there is a more pressing issue than that. Prior to Moriarty's capture, Alexander was working for him…as an assassin. Once he is well enough to leave the hospital, I'm afraid he will be turned over to Scotland Yard."

It was impossible to muster the strength to look John in the eye. Sherlock chose to stare at the ground instead. He could hear the sharp intake of breath, picture John trying to maintain some hold on his already fragile emotions.

"But Uncle Mycroft is taking care of it," Johann added.

Sherlock glanced up in time to see one of Mycroft's wry smiles.

"I'm doing my best," he said. "But even I have my limitations on the kinds of miracles I can work."

"Can we see him?" John asked. "Before..." he trailed off, and Sherlock looked at him and caught the tears lingering in his eyes.

"Yes," Mycroft said. "Of course. You'll have some time to talk things over, I'm sure. I've already informed Lestrade that this is one case he'll have to wait on pursuing."

John nodded, shifting a bit from foot to foot.

"Perhaps we should go ahead and take them over to the hospital then," Johann suggested.

Mary smiled at the boy. "That might be for the best. Thank you, Johann. It really is a pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," Johann said with a charming smile. "Now, why don't you let us get you over to the hospital before it gets any later. I'm guessing you could all use some good rest afterwards."

"Quite right," John said with a sigh. "Between anxiety of being extricated from the hands of a psychotic criminal's henchmen and more than a day's worth of travel and jetlag…well I'm thoroughly ready to just collapse onto a bed. Or even the floor if I'm being perfectly honest."

"Well, we'll try to see to it that your visit is quick," Mycroft said, moving over towards the car to open one of the doors. "Now, if you don't mind…I do have some business to take care of besides putting my little brother's life back together."

"Oh stop it," Sherlock snapped. "As though you would be this far without me. Had I died on my mission as you'd expected no one would ever have defeated Moriarty. He would have taken over the world, created complete and total chaos."

"Both of you," Johann said in a stern voice, "get in the car and discuss this later. John and Mary have been waiting more than a decade to see their son, and for god's sakes they shouldn't have to wait any longer just because you two can't settle your affairs."

"I couldn't have put it any better myself," John agreed. He gave a small smile at Sherlock, then a nod to Mycroft before stepping into the car.

"So good to have you back," Sherlock said with a roll of his eyes.

Mary chuckled and leaned in to pull him into a quick hug.

"It really is, Sherlock. Thank you." She pulled Hope over to the door to help her into the car.

He nodded, again staying silent to avoid letting any of his overwhelming emotions choke his voice. Johann, of course, seemed to notice and reached over to put a hand on his arm.

"It's fine. They're home safe. Everything's going to be all right now."

Sherlock sighed. "Is it? With Alex and…everything else. Things will never be the same again, Johann."

"No," the boy agreed. "But we'll make it work. We always do."

Sherlock smiled at that, and without another thought, slipped into the car.

The drive was mostly in silence. Sherlock did ask a few questions about the Watson's time in the Australian outback. Johann had made a point of explaining to him Moriarty's logic in placing them there, and John and Mary both admitted that all their plans of escape had been crushed easily. But mostly, Sherlock took the drive as a moment to think about what he'd already stated. Everything was going to be different from that moment on.

By the time they arrived to the hospital, Sherlock wasn't sure how much the Watsons could handle. John looked about ready to fall asleep on his feet, and Hope had already done so twice in the car. Only Mary remained vigilant, but even her shoulders were drooping some.

At the door to Alex's room, Sherlock noted that there was a visitor as he peered through the window. Molly had promised to stay with Alex, but from all appearances, she'd apparently left to take a break. But instead, Thomas was there, sitting at Alex's side and clasping his hand. As Sherlock watched for a moment, he saw tears on the other boy's cheeks. And he realized what this had to be. Alex knew this couldn't continue. And he was initiating a breakup.

But just as he was about to turn and say something to John about waiting a moment to go in, he caught sight of Thomas leaning in to kiss Alex firmly on the mouth.

Sherlock glanced back at John in time to see his jaw drop.

"God is that…"

"Thomas," Sherlock said warily. "Alex's boyfriend. I'm sure he'll be gone in a minute or two."

Based on the amount of tears, likely only a few more seconds.

John licked his lips and glanced at the window and then at Sherlock again. "Er so Alex is…er…"

"Gay," Johann added helpfully. "Quite." He glanced at Sherlock. "I have to go help Uncle Lestrade. You can handle it from here?"

Sherlock nodded, still looking at where the two boys were kissing and wondering how this was going to all pan out. Johann disappeared without another word.

John glanced at Mary, becoming more flustered by the second. "That's fine," he said after a second. "Er…yeah it's just fine."

"Of course it's fine," Sherlock said, voicing coming out a little tighter than he'd expected. But after all, Alex was his to protect. And the last thing he wanted was John rejecting him. He couldn't take that.

"Well, I always knew," Mary said folding her arms. "So, after weeping ex-boyfriend is out of the way…I'll just go ahead and let him know it doesn't bother me in the least."

"You knew?" John asked staring at her. "How? He was five when you last saw him."

Mary shrugged. "Mother's just know these things, John. I had my suspicions, let's just say that."

She was interrupted by Thomas opening the door and fleeing off down the hall. Johann frowned and glanced towards the doorway where they could see Alex with his head in his hands.

"Bad time?" Sherlock asked, reaching over to rap twice on the now already open door.

Alex looked up, a few tears coming from his eyes as well. He wiped them away hastily with his good shoulder and shook his head.

"'S fine," he said, swallowing.

"Alex…they're here," Sherlock managed before opening the door a little wider to allow John and Mary and Hope into the room.

Alex froze, staring up at the people he'd thought to be dead for so long.

"Mum," he whispered. "Dad?"

Sherlock felt like something inside him was breaking. Hadn't it been only a few years ago Alex had called him "dad" by mistake? And yet this was what he'd wanted. How could it be making him feel like this?

Mary is the first one to the bedside. She takes a look at Alex's shoulder wound before moving to wrap him in a hug that avoids the injured sight.

"My boy," she whispered softly.

And of course, after her minute or two holding him and kissing his temple, John moved over to get his turn, pulling Alex to him and whispering that he was so glad to see him and that he was so incredibly happy.

Sherlock stood there a moment, but it became very quickly apparent that he wasn't a part of what was going on. Not anymore. He didn't belong there.

He exited as quietly as he could, shutting the door softly behind him. Sherlock tried to think about what he should do. Perhaps Lestrade could use some extra help. Or he could go see to Mrs. Hudson and calm her down form the panicked state she'd likely worked herself up into. Or he could…

He bumped into someone in his train of thought, startling him out of it. He looked up to see Molly, a laptop clutched to her chest.

"Oh, there you are!" Molly said with a smile. "Are they here then? Did everything go well?"

Sherlock nodded. "Safe and sound. Visiting with Alex."

"Perfect," Molly said. "I stepped out when Thomas came by. Figured he and Alex could use some space. But I also was thinking that John and Mary would probably love to see some photos. And we do have such lovely ones from when he was younger, and I just couldn't help but think it would be perfect to let Mary and John see him growing up."

Sherlock nodded. "That is true."

Molly smiled and started to head to the room, only to have Sherlock catch her hand.

"Molly, there's…something I must ask you," Sherlock said.

"Yes?"

"Now…now that Moriarty is gone and John and Mary are back," Sherlock began, doing his best to take steady calming breath. "I find I have no more excuses as to why we couldn't…make it official."

"Make what official?" Molly asked, gazing at him curiously. "What are you saying, Sherlock?"

He squeezed her hand a little more tightly in his. "I didn't have time to get a ring. But I'd rather you pick it out anyways…make it something that suits you. And for the time being, I don't need outer symbols. Merely the knowledge that you feel as I do." He took a deep breath. "Molly Hooper, I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Her eyes widened for a moment, but whatever shock she was feeling was quickly overcome by a beautiful smile.

"Yes. You did it right this time," she said. "I'll marry you…if you're certain it's what you want."

"Yes," Sherlock said. And he smiled because it was true, he'd never felt more certain of anything before. "Yes. I do."

"I do," Sherlock said, one week later, standing beside Molly in the small chapel Molly had insisted she wanted to have the ceremony in.

He glanced over at her, looking at the modest green dress she'd chosen instead of some gaudy white nonsense that most women insisted was necessary.

"Well I'm not exactly deserving of the virginal white anymore, am I?" Molly had laughed when he'd asked.

So here they were, hand in hand standing before some ancient priest whom Sherlock had a good feeling drank more than just communion wine for his pleasure, who was binding them together in some ridiculous ceremony. And while most of him wanted to point out all the ridiculousness of old traditions, he kept noticing the ones Molly had decided to completely forget.

John had a shirt and tie, but no ridiculous suit. And Sherlock himself had been told to just dress in whatever suited him. John had made a point of telling him to wear something more than a sheet, but beyond that…

There was no cake. There would be no fancy reception with flower throwing and dancing and any of that. But Mrs. Hudson had cooked up something back at the flat for the lot of them. And Sherlock had realized that this was why he loved Molly so much. Because he was willing to give in and give her marriage, and she was willing to give in and give up a wedding.

"And the vows?" the priest asked.

Molly smiled and looked at Sherlock first. He cleared his throat, doing his best to steady his heartbeat that had suddenly climbed into an unusually fast pace.

"I thought of writing some sort of nonsense one usually hears at weddings. Long dramatic speeches about how much I'm going to love you and all that," Sherlock said.

John chuckled behind him, giving Sherlock the much needed push to continue.

"Or perhaps to google one. After all, these things are widely available on the internet…" he broke off for a moment, looking into Molly's eyes. "But I didn't need that really. Because the words are already right here, in my mind, and I only needed to look for them and find them readily available. I don't want to give you mushy promises that I know I'll never keep. After all, we both know when you get sick it's Mrs. Hudson who will nurse you back to health. And that there will be no poorer while you're off being a brilliant doctor, even as my own detective business has declined in terms of revenue (probably due to John disappearing if I'm honest)."

There were a few more laughs from those attending, and Molly's smile was so wide even as a few tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

"And I don't really care much about death parting us," Sherlock said. "Probably because you've been responsible for bringing me back on at least two occasions, and really what more can one say about dying than that.

"But…Molly Hooper, I do promise that I will always care for you. You have been one of my dearest friends, one who was there for me when I was alone in dire need. You have been my sweet lover, willing to sacrifice her own needs in favor of indulging mine. And you have been the dedicated mother to my son, even as you continue to cut open bodies and run a fully working lab. And what more can I want in anyone than that. To have someone who completes me so thoroughly and so perfectly… I promise to love you, Molly. I promise that and it's enough."

Molly let out something halfway between a sob and a laugh. She pulled one hand away to put it over her mouth.

"And vows for the bride?" the priest intoned.

Molly smiled and cleared her throat. "Er…I really had the same thought, Sherlock…that I'd just better say something on my own instead of finding some rubbish on the internet. It's not like other people's relationships, ours. So I really don't think pre-made vows would work. So many of my friends don't get it. They've questioned me over and over again. But I know when I look at you, and Alex, and Johann, I've made the right choice. I promise the same, Sherlock. I promise to be here for you when you need me. I promise to do my best to be understanding of you and all your…" she smiled and waved a hand towards all of him, "And I promise to love you."

Sherlock turned out most of the rest of the obnoxious dialogue from the priest. He was still staring at Molly, trying to wrap his mind around the words she'd said. He almost missed the instruction to take the rings, though thankfully John cleared his throat.

Johann had them, a sort of unofficial ring bearer. Sherlock took them and thanked him, sliding on the small plain ring that Molly had chosen. She'd claimed it was better to have something that wouldn't become filthy in the lab anyways, in case she ever forgot to take it off.

"And by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife," the priest said. "You may kiss."

There was a second's pause before Molly's lips were on his. Sherlock let her have her moment, before he pulled away to turn to the small group gathered.

He shook his head when he saw Mrs. Hudson wiping her face with a handkerchief, and sighed knowingly as he noted Mycroft crossing his arms. John was grinning, even though he still had something of an incredulous look on his face. And Mary just looked incredibly pleased.

But Sherlock's eyes drifted over to where Lestrade sat next to Alex. The detective seemed happy enough, but Sherlock's attention was diverted to the cuffs on Alex's wrists. It should never have been this way. He sighed, pulled back to the moment by Molly's hand on his arm. Grounded in the fact that not everything was falling apart as badly as he felt it was.

The rest of it was a blur. He hardly remembered being shuttled back to Baker Street, or someone sitting him down in his chair with a plate of sweets.

But there he was, watching the world move on around him while he remained still.

"I have news," a voice suddenly said.

He looked up to see Alex standing there, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

"News?"

Alex swallowed and nodded. "I'm not going to jail. Lestrade has to keep me in custody for now. But this evening…I'm being transported. It's all been arranged."

"Arranged?" Sherlock said, raising one brow. He set the plate aside and folded his hands. He was listening. He'd never make the same mistake again with Alex. He would listen, from now on.

"Mycroft," Alex said. "He said to think of it like a wedding present. Er…I'm going to go work for the government. Intelligence. I'll be under a contract."

"And the killings? How will those simply disappear?"

"Lestrade's going to announce that they were done by Moriarty," Alex said with a slight shrug. "It's all worked out."

John had suddenly turned his head, apparently catching some bit of the conversation.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I'm going to work for MI6," Alex said calmly, staring Sherlock in the eye as he said it. "And in return, my crimes will be forgotten. Mycroft said they preferred not allowing a valuable asset to go to waste. And he said there were other factors in the equation as well, though what they are I don't know yet."

Sherlock glanced around the room. He'd half expected John to be upset, but instead it was Mary who looked the most torn. But with her background, Sherlock supposed that made some amount of sense.

"And will it be dangerous?" John asked. "Your work?"

"They can't send me on field work until I'm a legal adult," Alex said calmly. "But when they do in a few months…it's possible, yes."

"So you're signing on for possible death," John said, mouth twitching. "They're going to just put you out into danger now because you're disposable."

Sherlock noted John's hand curling and he decided to stop it before it could go further. But before he could speak, Alex beat him to it.

"It's better than life in a cage," Alex pointed out. "With all my killings I'd get life. Guaranteed. There's no way around that. An entire life spent behind bars. And so yes, I'll put myself in danger to avoid that. To get a chance to come home and see my family and you sometimes. Or to one day marry and start my own family. To have an opportunity to have just a fraction of the normalcy I've so rarely been allowed."

Sherlock was silent for a moment, but he could tell Mary and John had no response to that. It hadn't been lost on Sherlock that Alex had referred to Sherlock and Molly as "my family."

"There, I think that's all that needs to be said about it," Sherlock said calmly.

John nodded, though Mary had folded her arms and didn't look as though she was quite willing to let the issue slide.

In the meantime, Sherlock considered on his own. He was torn. Part of him longed to rejoice. What Alex had said was true, that prison would probably be just as good as death to him. He could picture the boy fading over time. Locked away from all he loved and cared about. But he knew well enough to be aware that missions could be dangerous. Alex would never be fully out of the danger Sherlock had hoped to completely remove from his life.

"Fine," John said with a sigh. "Fine, you're right. No, I'm…I'm still getting used to the fact that you're…all grown up. I still expect to look over and see the little boy you were, not the man you've become."

Alex gave a half smile at that. "I understand. This isn't easy on any of us. But we must make the best of it."

John looked like he might say something, but Lestrade pushed over and touched Alex's arm.

"Mycroft gave me the warning. We need to be going."

"Thanks," the boy muttered, sighing before he looked at his father and mother. "Well, I guess I should say my goodbyes then. I'm told I'll be doing training for at least six months. I doubt I'll get a leave to come visit for a while."

Mary was on him in a second, hugging him tightly. She leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Alex nodded and then kissed her cheek. He turned to John next.

"Well," John said. "I've always been shit at goodbyes. But I'll give it my best. I'm so glad we were able to see you again…er…we'll be in touch, all right?"

"Thanks, dad," Alex said before leaning in for the offered hug.

Sherlock rose out of his chair, doing his best to step out of the way in time for Molly to come running through, grabbing hold of Alex and smothering him in yet another embrace.

"We'll miss you. Please promise to come home safe."

"I can't promise anything, Molly," Alex said, barely managing to extract himself. "But I'll do my best." He glanced at Sherlock then, a smile in place. "I'm glad I could be here for your happy day at least. Someone had to see you two married."

"Well, just because a certain little boy seemed convinced I was in love with Miss Hooper," Sherlock said, doing his best to keep his voice steady. "It won't be the same without you, Alex."

"No," Alex agreed. "Things won't ever be the same again. But that's life for you. Always changing around us."

Sherlock swallowed, his throat seeming to tighten up on him even as he moved forward to give Alex one last hug.

"I love you," he murmured. "Always. And you will always be like a son to me."

Alex laughed and pulled away. A single tear ran down one cheek, but he smiled in spite of it. "'Like' is ridiculous. You'll always be my father, Sherlock. I'll always think of you as my dad. I know that might sound awful but…it's true."

Sherlock was worried for a moment that John might be upset. But instead he felt a hand on his shoulder. And when he looked back, John's smile was as large as it had ever been.

"You've been good to him," John said. "Thank you. God, Sherlock. I'd never imagined but…thank you."

"All right," Lestrade said, shifting from foot to foot. "We really do need to get going. If you're all done."

"Yes," Sherlock said. He pulled back to examine Alex, wondering how much more the boy would change before they met again. For the moment, he simply did his best to absorb the small details and tuck them away in his mind palace. Never had memory had more importance to him.

There were footsteps on the stairs. The door to 221 opening and shutting before Sherlock moved to the window. He watched Alex walk to the car and get in with Lestrade's help.

For a moment, the merriment in the flat faded around him. He watched the street, stared as the car pulled away from the curb and disappeared around the next corner.

But while it was easy to see the moment as an end, Sherlock resolved that it must be viewed as what it was. A beginning.

And with that in mind, he closed the curtain, and turned back to those he loved.

A/N: Ok so…that's the last official long chapter. But I'm going to include a shorter epilogue after this. Also, keep in mind I'm open to writing oneshot requests if anyone wants anything further. I've decided that collection will be called "Blink and You Miss It" So stay tuned for that.

Thanks to all followers and those who favorited. Thank you to emmaljonesbz for reviewing!