Okay, so when I said I'm taking my time with this, I'm reallllly taking my time with it. Hope I don't annoy anyone by it, but I realised there's just so much to write and everyone who reviewed said they liked the idea and that I should do as many Christmas chapters as I can, so I'm milking out every little idea I have. Heh. Heehee. Hope you like it. *sheepish smile*

John had kept himself from telling his mum "I told you so" a couple dozen times since he got back. In fact, he'd said nothing at all about his marks, and she hadn't asked, because she'd been too excited about the impending visitors. Honestly, going to school was more important to him than it was to her. But, eventually, she'd ask, and he'd be able to tell her that the classes that were too 'challenging' for him were actually no trouble at all, and that he'd gotten near perfect marks. That he wasn't as stupid as everyone supposed. That Sherlock Holmes, of all goddamn people, had more faith in his ability to pass his classes than his own mum.

Probably he wouldn't say any of that other stuff, and just tell her he did really well, but he liked to think he was going to shove it in her face a little, after her telling him over and over that this major was too hard for him and nearly scaring him into changing it.

At the moment, John was walking around his room in a towel, looking at the latest text from Sherlock.

I'll have you know I'm in the car with Mycroft and you keep making me hard. – SH

He almost laughed out loud at the thought of that, especially considering that Mycroft doesn't miss much, so he probably noticed.

Good. Serves you right for being a prat all the time. – JW

Oh, being petty, are you? Two can play at that game. – SH

I'm very aware you can be petty. You do it all the time. – JW

Hey, what if I want to punish you back for all these rude things you say to me? – SH

John bit his lip, surprised that, just like in the beginning, the thought of Sherlock in control for once excited him slightly. He figured he was far too obsessed with the high he felt when bossing Sherlock around to relinquish the power to him, even for a night, but maybe he'd have to try it sometime.

I'd ask you how you'd punish me, except I really need to not have a boner when I leave my room in a minute here, so you'll just have to show me sometime. – JW

I'm going to remember that request, you know. And keep this message as a reference when you deny it. – SH

I don't doubt it. See you soon. – JW

Not soon enough. I'm so BORED. Embarrassingly having an erection while in the car with my brother is better than sitting here doing nothing at all. – SH

John smiled affectionately down at the text, and he pointedly ignored the sour feeling in the back of his throat that came with his afterthought behind every conversation with Sherlock now: You don't know how much longer you'll have him for.

John wished he could not care the way Sherlock did. He wished he could push his worries back and completely ignore them. Maybe he could make a mind… well, he wouldn't make it a palace. Maybe a beach. That'd be nice. Then, when he remembered Moriarty's threat on Sherlock's life, he could shove it deep under his mind ocean to rest in pieces with his mind shipwrecks and get gnawed to bits by his mind sharks. And he could remember instead, in this mind beach of his, that Sherlock has done the impossible countless times for John to see and that, with that evidence, he should have faith in Sherlock's ability to fix this mess as well.

But John wasn't a genius the way Sherlock was, and he didn't think he could manage to create something that solid and literal with only his mind.

I love you. You know that, right? – JW

You don't actually think I'd have forgotten something you said to me, do you? And this you've said multiple times. – SH

I know you heard me say it, and that you remember. But do you believe me? – JW

The response took a moment longer than usual and John imagined he'd said one of those things that mildly perplexed Sherlock. Maybe he took longer to think of his answer, or maybe the answer itself was longer than usual.

Apparently, some of Sherlock's deducing skills had rub off on John, because the latter ended up being correct.

Yes, I believe you. If you can somehow believe that I love you, even when the evidence of my life says that's impossible, then surely I can believe a man whose first instinct is to love can love even someone like me. - SH

Someone like you… meaning brilliant and beautiful? Yeah, must be hard for me. – JW

You're much easier to like than I am. In fact, I don't know how anyone could not like you. You're more brilliant than me. – SH

I'm definitely saving that text for later. For the next time you call me an idiot. - JW

I didn't necessarily mean your mind, John. – SH

Well, I won't save that second text, so out of context it will sound like you mean my mind. Good enough for me. - JW

You're an idiot. – SH

John smiled again.

"Yeah, I know that look."

John jumped and grabbed onto his towel, which almost fell off his hips, at the sound of his sister's voice in the doorway. "Bloody hell, Harry! Learn to knock, yeah?"

"Who're you texting?" Harry asked, stepping into the room without invitation.

"Why d'you care?"

"Because you've got a girlfriend, obviously."

John swallowed. "Why d'you say that?"

"Because I know what young love looks like, moron. And that's written all over your face. So why didn't you invite her over for dinner? You thought mum wouldn't approve of her?"

John almost wanted to laugh at that one. Yeah, she probably wouldn't approve much, especially considering Harry was on the completely wrong gender.

"Wow, that bad, huh?" Harry continued. "Just tell me it isn't Gina again. I heard she went to Westwood too."

"Oh, god no," John said, unable to hold his silence on that one. "Somehow, I haven't even seen her since I started. Thank god."

She sat on the bed then.

"You're not going to leave me be to get dressed, are you?"

"So have you done what I asked?"

John was confused enough that he forgot to tell Harry to get the hell out. "What?"

"I told you on your first day to get into loads of trouble for me. Have you gotten into trouble?"

And John couldn't help it. He barked out a slightly hysterical laugh before he could bite it off, and still he was chuckling. "Actually, yeah, I've gotten into a bit, yeah."

Her eyebrows were nearly lost in her hair they were up so high. "What'd you do?"

And John figured the best way to get out of this one was to tell the truth. So he said casually, "Oh, you know, just put unconscious bodies on Scotland Yard's doorstep. Held crooks at gunpoint. Got kidnapped by a criminal mastermind. The usual."

Harry stood up, rolling her eyes. "Fine, don't tell me, but I'll figure it out eventually." And she walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

He decided to actually get dressed then, and then sat on his bed and looked at his last text again, which was Sherlock calling him an idiot.

You're the idiot, because you're not here yet. – JW

Don't be so sure. – SH

John looked down at the text, a big smile on his face. And then the doorbell rang. He jumped off his bed and sprinted to the door.

"Wow, excited?" Harry asked him, but he ignored it.

And then he opened the door and there he was, in his usual dark suit and blue scarf with his stupidly beautiful face with his stupid prominent cheekbones and stupid unbelievable eyes and his stupid luscious lips.

"Sherlock, I could kiss you."

"Probably unwise," said Mycroft before Sherlock could say anything, "seeing as your mother is coming to the door."

"True," John muttered, yanking Sherlock inside by his wrist, who looked to be carefully keeping in his excitement—but John could be see it in the glint in his eyes, because John was used to puzzling out how Sherlock was feeling. John looked to Mycroft, who was standing on the mat. "Oh, you come in too, Mycroft."

"Thank you." Mycroft had this long-suffering look on his face as he stepped over the threshold, brushing off his beige Italian suit as if there was a speck of anything on it. Then he looked around, seeming to think he was doing so slyly. "So… has Gregory arrived yet?" he asked.

John grinned knowingly. "No, not yet. Should be here any time though."

Mycroft nodded stiffly, and then mum came into the room and started chatting with him excitedly. Honestly, he hadn't seen mum so happy in ages. She really did adore company.

John took both their suitcases and stuck them in the room they'd be staying in—their house was small, but mother managed to turn any room possible into a guest room, so there was enough for Greg to have a room and for Sherlock and Mycroft to share one (though Lestrade was actually staying in Harry's room, and she was on the sofa, but mum wasn't planning on telling Greg that). John was hoping he'd be able to sneak Sherlock into his own bed at least one night.

"Oh, by the way, dear," added mum to John, when Mycroft and Sherlock were momentarily distracted by bickering with each other over whether or not it was stupid for Mycroft to have brought an umbrella when they know they won't be spending time outside, "I invited a friend of mine over for dinner tomorrow. Since you and Harry have your friends already…"

"Oh, yeah, no problem, mum," he said absently. Mum's friends were nice, usually, so he didn't care much.

Then he remembered who his company was. Did he want another innocent bystander there in case things went awry? He tried not to think about it.

"She told me she's stopping by tonight to bring over some nibbles she made. Actually, probably any time now."

And, so on cue it made John wonder if she actually planned it, there was another light knock at the door. Too light to be Greg.

Mum opened the door. "Hello there!" she said fondly, giving her a hug.

Then John heard Sherlock blurt out, in a confused voice, "Mrs Hudson?"

John turned around to see that both the Holmes boys were looking at her in surprise.

Mrs Hudson looked up from her hug and her eyes got big. "Oh my, that can't be Mycroft and Sherlock!"

"You know each other?" mum asked, obviously thrilled by the new information.

"Mrs Hudson used to be our nanny," Sherlock said. "First ten years of my life."

John knew mum would be uncomfortable at the term 'nanny', since it implied that the Holmes brothers could afford a maid—but then again, with the posh suits they always wore, maybe that was obvious.

"My dears!" Mrs Hudson cried out, going over and wrapping one arm around each of them. And John was a bit surprised that both Sherlock and Mycroft didn't look annoyed by the hug. In fact, they both had these slightly foreign looks of fondness on their face for the woman. John had never asked much about Sherlock's childhood—other than the fact that his mother was killed—but he might make a point to now. "Sherlock, I trust you're staying out of trouble." She turned to mum. "This one, he's a troublemaker! You've got to watch out for him! Does experiments with the food, takes things apart to see if he can put it back together again. Oh, and Mycroft! I swear, when his father was locked up in his study for days on end, Mycroft was managing the whole estate on his own since he was no more than ten! They're both so clever." She patted their cheeks. "Well, I was just going to drop these biscuits off, but there's so much to catch up on! Come, come, let's go sit and chat!"

She dragged the two of them away, already knowing where the sitting room was.

"It's a small world, isn't it?" mum said.

"Tell me about it. What're the odds, yeah?"

"Sherlock doesn't actually do experiments on food, though, does he?" mum asked a moment later.

John bit his lip. "Erm… well… he'll be on good behaviour, he promised me."

Mum, for the first time, looked a bit nervous, but then she and John followed the other three into the front room, ready to get their ears talked off.

I've been looking for a way to squeeze Mrs Hudson in for ages, and I couldn't figure one out, and then this epiphany came to me. I'm happy I managed it, since she was the only big character that hadn't been mentioned. Other than Irene, but...

What, I didn't say anything. Who's Irene? Is that even a thing? Tee. Heehee.