The contractors finished the last of their work Wednesday and then a team of cleaners descended on Jamie's new flat, scrubbing it top to bottom. After they left Friday evening, John and Jamie went down with Mrs. Hudson to see the finished product.

The flat was almost unrecognisable: where it had been dim and damp before, it was bright and clean and dry. The contractors hadn't changed the character of the flat even though they'd had to tear out all of the carpet and some of the flooring as well as strip down some of the walls. It had been replaced and repaired to match the original appearance insofar as possible, so, while largely new surfaces, it still had the air of a Victorian flat. They'd kept the fireplace and mantle but John could see that the firebox was clean and useable now. The new windows let in more light through their untarnished panes and the lighting fixtures had all been updated to provide more illumination. It was bright and cheery – a far cry from the dim and slightly closed space it had been before.

Jamie was grinning but John thought it was the look on Mrs. Hudson's face that made this all worth it. She was positively beaming, her face and eyes lit up as much as the new flat was. John found himself smiling at her expression and at the way she clapped her hands with unmasked delight.

Jamie's new furniture would be arriving the following afternoon but he had enough belongings in John's flat that they spent a few hours Friday evening putting things into boxes and trying to sort out who owned which kitchen utensils. John felt a pang of sadness at losing his flatmate, but Jamie would be right downstairs, so he didn't imagine it would be far different than it was at the moment. They were still in the same building – which was more than could be said for when they'd both been living in the halfway house. And Jamie would need his own flat come September anyway, when Tricia came home. John grinned when he thought of this and wondered if Tricia had any idea that she already had a place to live. He hadn't mentioned it to her, and he was pretty sure Jamie was keeping it as a surprise, too.


Saturday morning they went to their first British Sign Language lesson. John was a bit apprehensive if only because he didn't know what to expect. He'd never imagined learning a second language at thirty-eight and he'd certainly never considered that it would be BSL.

He wondered what Jamie thought of it. Most of the time, Jamie's cheery disposition never wavered, but John had seen it break. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to know he'd never speak again. To not be able to sing or laugh out loud. To have to type out all of his conversations – well, that was why they were learning BSL, so he wouldn't have to do that.

John also wondered what it would be like to be paralysed and still be able to walk. For a while, Jamie had attended a support group for paralysed army veterans but had stopped going abruptly. It had taken awhile for John to get the reason out him – because he didn't have spinal chord paralysis, he was being dismissed as not really injured by a couple of the other group members. The selfishness and absurdity had made John livid. They'd still be living in the halfway house at the time and it had struck John as extraordinarily unfair that other recovering vets with nowhere else to go would treat one of their own that way. John wondered if Jamie would find people in comparable situations at their BSL lessons – complete vocal chord paralysis was rare, but people suffering from partial paralysis would be fighting very similar battles.

They were taking the course through a local community college and John was glad to find there was a mix of people in the class, some hearing impaired students and their family members or friends, some people taking it to become BSL teachers themselves, some taking it for general interest. Jamie's scars drew curious looks when he and John settled themselves at a table. John heard whispered murmurs between two young women behind him and saw a flash of displeasure cross Jamie's features. The doctor twisted himself in his seat to face the two university-aged girls who were probably taking the course just because it seemed fun.

"He's a war vet," John said levelly. "And there's nothing wrong with his hearing."

Jamie glanced over his shoulder as well and arched an eyebrow at them, giving them a brief nod. Both girls looked appalled and dropped their eyes, biting their lips and muttering apologies. Jamie shot John an amused look before refocusing his attention when the instructor indicated they were going to start.

Afterwards, the girls stopped them on their way out, both of them looking bashful and chastened.

"Sorry," the braver one said, looking squarely at Jamie. "I – we didn't mean to insult you. Or your, um, partner."

Jamie blinked in surprise then began to laugh, his shoulders shaking with silent, helpless giggles. John sighed, rolling his eyes. The girls looked alarmed again but Jamie just shook his head, pointing at John.

"I'm not his partner," John explained wearily. "I'm his brother-in-law." It wasn't true, although when Tricia came home, it would be close enough. And it was more convincing than 'friend'.

"Oh," said the girl, then glanced at her own friend. "Well, um, sorry."

John arched an eyebrow at them and they practically scurried away. The two men watched them go, Jamie struggling to regain his composure. The mechanic pulled out his phone and sent John a text.

Can you imagine? Tee would kill us both.

"At the same time," John replied.

I could give you a great big kiss if you'd like.

John groaned.

"Please don't." Jamie flashed him a devilish grin and then sucked in a deep breath, his shoulders still shaking slightly. John folded his arms and tapped an index finger against his arm.

"As you were, sergeant," he said and Jamie smirked at him.

You don't outrank me anymore.

"You know, I'm starting to miss the days when I did? Come on, let's go home."

You need to blog about this.

"Oh, believe me," John said with a wicked smile. "I'm going to."


Jamie's furniture arrived that afternoon and the two of them spent some time arranging everything to the mechanic's liking. He still didn't have everything he needed and they couldn't be bothered to move the boxes they'd haphazardly packed down the stairs that evening, so Jamie stayed the night in his current room again. John didn't mind – he did know how daunting it was to furnish flat from scratch. John knew his friend had agonised over the choices and pestered his sister for advice, until one day John finally asked him how picky Jamie thought Tricia was. After that, the decisions were easier. She wasn't going to criticise Jamie's choices. She'd be happy just to be back and have a home.

"You don't have to impress her," John had pointed out with a snigger. "She already knows you. She's had plenty of opportunity to escape."

He'd managed to duck when Jamie had hurled a cushion at him.

He knew he'd be a bit lonely the first few days after Jamie had moved downstairs. John had entertained the idea of getting another flatmate but then had decided against it. He didn't want a stranger living in his space. It had worked with Jamie because they knew each other.

They spent the evening watching football, eating take out, and drinking beer. Like proper bachelors, John thought and grinned to himself. The next morning, Jamie went to Mass and John went to Gabriel's to finally clear the younger man to return to work. He accompanied that with a strong warning to Sherlock that Gabriel should be on shorter days than normal. Sherlock looked annoyed by the suggestion but relieved that Gabriel was allowed to work again. John had mixed feelings – he was glad that it came now, when Sherlock was meeting with his lieutenants, but he knew he was going to miss spending time with his boss. He tried not to note the way Sherlock's eyes focused on him during most of the visit, tried to tell himself it was only because John was the doctor and making the decisions.

Gabriel looked pleased by the prospect of going back to work, of bidding good-bye to some of the boredom that came along with recuperating. John was glad to see that the younger man looked a lot less tired, his green eyes brighter, more alert. John thought more time off would just be detrimental now. Gabriel needed something to do, even if that something was committing crimes. Inwardly, John sighed, reminded of how dubious his own job was.

John left them to talk about whatever it was crime bosses talked about – or to bicker like little children. He wasn't really sure. They could probably do both at the same time. He went home and did some chores until Jamie got back. They moved the rest of his belongings downstairs and Jamie went up to Mrs. Hudson's to invite her for tea and she insisted on making a casserole even though she was a guest. John didn't mind and knew Jamie didn't either – her cooking was far superior to either of theirs. John went out and got sherry for their landlady and beer for two of them while Jamie finished getting the flat set up enough for dinner.

Mrs. Hudson left before John did, but eventually the doctor kicked himself out and went back upstairs. Jamie had to work the following morning and, while John was technically on call, he was no longer needed to follow Sherlock around, so all he had to do was ensure he was up and ready to go out the door in case he was called. He made a note on his calendar to check on Gabriel Tuesday morning before the younger man went into work, to make sure he hadn't overdone it on his first day back.

What's overdoing it for a master criminal? John wondered as he changed out of his clothes and into his pyjamas. Stealing something too expensive? Stealing too much? Planning too complicated a heist?

He sighed to himself as he crawled into bed. The flat was oddly silent – even when Jamie had been upstairs and asleep, John knew there was someone else there. Now he was alone. It didn't feel lonely exactly – not yet – but it did feel strange. Like there was too much space. John snuggled down beneath his covers and ignored the sensation. He'd get used to having the flat to himself again soon enough.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to relax himself. Tomorrow, he would be back to his regular duties as a doctor. He wouldn't have to spend so much time with Sherlock, which would certainly help him get over this ridiculous crush or lust or whatever it was. John felt that if he saw his boss less, he'd eventually just forget what was so alluring in the first place. He could settle back into his old routines, give himself some time to stop being such a love-sick idiot and then maybe meet a nice woman. The prospects of doing so in London were a lot greater than in the army. He smiled sleepily to himself at the idea and nodded; it seemed like a good plan.

Tomorrow, things would go back to what passed for normal in his life.


John awoke the next morning to a hammering on his bedroom door and suddenly Jamie was there, shaking him fully awake. John blinked and started, staring at his friend, trying to battle the confusion. He'd thought Jamie had moved into his own flat? But he still had a key, of course, for convenience and emergencies.

"What?" he asked, finally registering the panic on his best friend's face, in his bright hazel eyes. Jamie's phone was pressed into his hands and John fumbled with it, trying to wake up enough to focus on the screen. When he finally read the news article, all remaining grogginess vanished with a sharp gasp.

There had been an explosion in Kabul near the base and, at the latest count, four British soldiers were reported dead.