Just a note: this is the last chapter. The next one is a message to people who are rereading.

Going to the Hogwarts Express was postponed just slightly when Moriarty's body was found at the bottom of the Astronomy tower. Everyone had already been in the Great Hall, eating breakfast in their Muggle clothes, when an Auror came in with the announcement that Moriarty had been found dead. While the mess was cleaned up, everyone celebrated the victory, but the five that knew what had really happened were quiet—Sherlock and Mycroft couldn't even find it in themselves to bicker. It didn't feel like a time for cheering, for a feast. They'd all barely escaped dying last night—the first real threat of death John had felt this school year—and none of them were feeling like throwing a party quite yet. John imagined that when the shock wore off, he'd be more excited, but for now, he was just tired. The relief was there, but more than anything he wanted to sleep. He wanted to sit on the Hogwarts Express with Sherlock and just feel him there.

Sherlock didn't admit to being the one to send Moriarty plummeting to his death, because then he might get more unwanted admirers, but most of the school believed he had something to do with anyway.

Including McGonagall, who'd come up to him and said, "I like your coat. A hundred points to Ravenclaw."

John was fine with nobody knowing about him and his friends being taken, with people not knowing what Sherlock had done. He was fine not understanding why Moriarty had actually kept his word and jumped when he probably could have gotten out of it somehow if he'd have tried. John honestly just wanted to forget about Moriarty, that the man ever existed. He was going to take the break to do just that, and he was going to go back to Hogwarts without any reservations. At least, that's what he hoped would happen.

They only left a half hour later than originally intended—and even just that would leave parents panicking, considering the latest letter they'd gotten from Hogwarts, but once they heard Moriarty was gone, they'd probably cool down.

The compartments didn't quite fit seven, so Mike ended up finding his own with the Quidditch kids. Phil was on his way to sit with them when Sally intercepted and asked why the hell he'd been so distant. He sighed and went off with her.

John wondered when he'd get a backbone and just break up with her.

But that left the five of them alone in their own compartment, so they were all able to brood the way they wanted to as the train rattled its way towards London.

Greg was the first to say anything. "Erm… should we be thanking you for saving us last night?"

Sherlock, who had been looking out the window, glanced over at Greg blandly. "If one more person thanks me for heroics, I'll have to curse them to never speak again."

And maybe they were all touched in the head after what had happened, because they all—even the Holmes brothers—started to chuckle. And then laugh. And then they were all guffawing, chortling themselves to tears.

Maybe the truth finally had hit them, and they felt so light that laughing seemed the only option. As people were still trying to calm down, John said, "It's done. Moriarty's gone. We actually did it."

"Well, I did most of the work," Sherlock responded.

"Oh, shut up," said several people at once. From then on, they all started chatting almost normally, like whatever weight had been on them had been lifted by their bout of hysterics.

"Oh," Molly eventually said to Greg, "I keep forgetting. That Chocolate Frog Sherlock borrowed, he threw the card out, but I thought you might want it." She pulled out a card… which had Hermione Granger on it.

Greg looked at it with wide eyes. "You—you've—you've had that all this time?"

"Well, saving John seemed more important than—"

"Sod John, give me that card!"

"That's mean, Greg, apologise!"

"Tell Sherlock to apologise for almost throwing out my Granger! I've been looking for her for…"

John was engaged at first, but the giddiness of realising he was safe made way for exhaustion afterwards—too many sleepless nights all colliding with him all at once. He lean against Sherlock and watch Mycroft, Greg, and Molly have some conversation. Molly laughed, Mycroft smiled. Things felt honestly okay. Like the world was going to piece itself together again.

He looked up to Sherlock to find that Sherlock icy eyes were already on him intently.

John smiled a little. "Thank you," John said. "Really."

"For saving you? Because I thought nobody was supposed to thank me for heroics."

John grinned. "No, not for that," said John. "Well, partly for that. But I meant for everything. Meeting you…" He considered for a moment. "Yeah. Meeting you has been the best thing that could've possibly happened."

Sherlock's face became just a little sad. "If you'd never met me, you'd never have been a target for Moriarty."

"Yeah, and he would be taking over the Ministry right now. You'd never have known about the Ministry if it weren't for you working to get the Muggleborns out of the Chamber. A couple weeks sleeping on some rocks in exchange for dating you—and saving the world in the process? Pretty worth it, Sherlock." He paused. "Even without the world-saving bit it was worth it. Anything would've been."

Sherlock's eyes stayed locked on John's. Then he said something John never thought he'd hear Sherlock say.

"I love you."

John blinked, momentarily baffled. Then a small smile grew on his face and he was about to respond—

But little did John realise that the carriage had gone completely silent. The others, at some point, had started listening in. And now Greg said, "Really? You'd never said that before now? You're so damaged."

John figured he should be glaring with Greg along with Sherlock, but he ended up laughing.

"Oh yeah, he's damaged," said John, which earned him a scowl of his own from Sherlock. "But for some stupid reason, I love him too."

Sherlock's glower turned to a smile as they looked at each other.

"Gross," Greg muttered teasingly, and the others started talking once more.

John then lie down, his head on Sherlock's lap, and finally got some sleep.

The five of them said goodbyes in the carriage, and Mycroft told Sherlock that he and Greg were going to Apparate without him if he didn't meet them outside in ten minutes. Molly, who lived near John, was getting a ride with his mum.

But John was steeling himself to ask Sherlock something—he was more nervous than he needed to be, he knew that. He let Molly walk ahead, not realising they'd been separated, and stopped Sherlock in an empty compartment.

"Hey Sherlock," he said tentatively. "I was wondering…"

"Yes?" Sherlock prompted.

"I wanted to introduce you to my mum."

Sherlock's eyebrow flicked up, but otherwise he didn't react for a moment. "That's indeed customary," he said, as if he wasn't even sure why John bothered to ask, because it didn't seem like a big deal to him. It was amazing how many things Sherlock just didn't get. John rolled his eyes and dragged Sherlock out of the train by the hand. After wading through the crowd, he found Molly again without her ever realising they'd disappeared and finally ran into John's mum. She was standing with Harry, but another woman was there too. Clara, John had to assume. Well, that was a good sign. Mum had to have taken the news well if she invited Clara back to visit.

As soon as Mum saw him, she ran at him, fussing over every inch of him to make sure there were no missing limbs. She looked like she was going to cry. She put her arms on his shoulders and what she eventually said is, "You're so thin."

John smiled. "I'm sure you'll fix that within a week."

She smiled too, a tear falling, and hugged him tight. "Oh John, I was so scared. But I heard a student saying Moriarty is gone now."

"Yeah, Mum, he's gone."

"Oh thank god. I would've killed him myself. Hurting my baby."

"It's all she's talked about for days," Harry confirmed.

He chuckled and rolled his eyes, picturing his Muggle mother managing to murder Moriarty. He almost believed she could do it. Hell hath no fury like his mother when someone dared mess with one of her children.

She finally let him go, wiping her eyes. He told her he loved her and she smiled again—and then she finally noticed Sherlock.

"Oh," he said in surprise. "Who's this?"

John licked his lips nervously, backing away a step so he could stand next to Sherlock. His face was burning. "Erm. Well. Mum." He wrung out the bottom of his jumper. "This is Sherlock. I've told you about him."

"Oh yes, of course!"

"Yeah. And he's. Erm. My boyfriend."

He didn't know what exactly to expect from her—two coming outs through meeting significant others within six months? It was enough to shock any mother.

But what she did was grin at Sherlock and come forward and hug him.

Sherlock just stood stalk still for a long moment and John snorted out a laugh before he could stop himself at the perplexed look on Sherlock's face. Then Sherlock tentatively put his arms around her, probably just to make the embrace end.

She let go. "Nice you meet you, Sherlock." Then her face lit up. "Hey, would you like to stay at our house for the break?"

Sherlock looked even more mystified at this comment and John was just chuckling at the look on his face. All this time, the one person in the world who could surprise Sherlock was John's own mum. Who'd've guessed?

He rebooted a moment later, his polite smile in place. "I'd be delighted."

Then Mum started talking to Molly, telling her she needed to eat too and she better come over for supper a couple times.

"Shouldn't you tell Mycroft?" asked John when Mum was out of earshot. "He's still going to be waiting for another four minutes."

Sherlock brushed the comment off. "I'll send him an owl in a week or so."

Well, clearly their relationship wasn't entirely fixed, but John didn't argue.

Mum, in full-on coddling mode, took the cart with John's luggage and, after piling Sherlock's on too, rolled it herself. Molly followed her.

"You didn't tell me you swing that way," said Harry to John.

"I didn't actually know," said John awkwardly.

"Well, our family was already weird enough. Can't get any worse with one more gay kid."

And she started to follow Mum.

"And that's my sister," said John exasperatedly.

"Seems charming," said Sherlock.

"Oh, always."

John took Sherlock's hand and they started to walk. "So, are you going to tell me about this adventure before we start, or is it going to be surprise again?"

Sherlock looked puzzled. "What adventure are you referring to? Your mother's house?"

"Yeah."

"And what makes you think it will be even a little adventurous?"

"Because you'll be there."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile. "Well, I suppose it shall begin with writing."

John blinked. "Writing?"

"Well you have to start your book of apologies. It's probably best I supervise or else it'll be rubbish."

John looked over, his mouth open. "You're not actually—"

"I told you I'm holding you to that."

"Sherlock, come on—"

"A book, John. And a good one too—I'll make you such a good writer, you'll want to start a blog about me when you're finished."

John pulled a face. "A blog? Why the hell would I ever write a blog?"

"Because I make life an adventure, remember?" he teased.

John elbowed Sherlock in the side, but it was true. Every day of the rest of John's life would be an adventure, so long as Sherlock was there. It'd be dangerous, it'd be ridiculous, it'd be full of monsters and psychopaths and days without sleep and convincing Sherlock to eat.

John wouldn't have it any other way.