- Sher… - John stopped breathing for a second, stepping away, his face turned white – You... you... – His voice struggled – You're dead...

John started rubbing his eyes, blinking rapidly as if Sherlock were just a mere illusion, a nightmare he had before and now knew how to deal with it, Sherlock felt his heart sink inside his chest, he thought for a moment this must be to get your heart broken, he waved the thought away immediately, because he knew this was somehow close to what John felt, when he died, but he wasn't really dead, Sherlock knew John was fine, the mere thought became the only company he had, the only sane one, but to John? He actually thought he was dead, he knew he was never going to bicker about body parts on the fridge or waking up to the sound of a violin or walking with someone who you would give your life for in a second, how could he not think that? After all Sherlock was very convincing with his own dead.

Not a good time to ponder about the past, the present, the now is what needs taking care of.

John is now resting against the table, hands covering his face. Sherlock walking slowly towards him, cautiously, a gentle hand reaching, removing the hands off his face, they fall, and Sherlock lets them, he holds John's cheeks, allowing the warmth to settle between them. John's eyes are still closed, leaning unconsciously against the touch. Sherlock's not sure if he should talk, he's not even sure if his voice will come out.

He places both hands around John face and he leans closer, resting his forehead against John's, he never had much respect for personal space, why start respecting it now? John's hands begin to move, tracing the shape of Sherlock's arms, at first it's just a gentle touch, as if he were to disappear with any move but it became faster and stronger, it became real to John, he suddenly stops, holding tight Sherlock's shoulders, so tight it reminds Sherlock of how strong John really is. He dares to open his eyes, Sherlock does too, he looks at them firmly there's still disbelief in them, that wild blue, threatening Sherlock, making him feel like he's been thrown in the middle of a fierce sea.

- How? – Is the only thing John says, practically whispers, John intended for that sound a bit tougher, but like Sherlock he wasn't sure his voice would come out properly, the closeness they have right now allows Sherlock to hear him perfectly though.

- Moriarty – Sherlock says with his baritone voice that even in intended whispers is loud enough for Jack to hear while spying from the stairs.

There a spark of panic in John's eyes, his body stiffens and as if Sherlock could read John's thoughts, he applies slightly more pressure on John's forehead and denies them, realizing how that could be easily misunderstood. Minutes pass by, unnoticed by them, the only thing that gives time away is the fact that Sherlock's feet start getting numb and John's hands start to cramp. They finally release each other from their touch, Sherlock almost looks anxious while changing his weight one foot to another, feeling them all tingly, John shakes his arms and body as if a cold chill ran through his spine.

They still remain close to each other, silent, doubtful, somewhere in the stairs, Jack is admiring the scene, wondering if she should say or do something, she admits they look so endearing she doesn't want to interrupt them, but they haven't moved from the kitchen in over 5 minutes since they released themselves and they don't seem to be making any progress, just wondering looks, intentions to talk, but nothing, so she stands up and starts walking down the stairs, making sure she's heard.

Her arrival was followed by both set of eyes in the kitchen, but she didn't look at them, she stopped right in front of the poor beef's portrait of Sherlock's fall, with a heavy sigh she got on her knees, carefully grabbed the plate that once hold the integrity of it and lift it, inadvertently the plate broke letting a grand part of the beef wanting to end like the part that couldn't be saved, immediately John and Sherlock ran to help her, testing their reflexes, they both ended up almost falling in order to catch as much as they could, only to be betrayed by the beef slipping through their fingers.

Loud laughter flooded the room, the three of them simply gave up, letting all beef fall, Jackie got up to get a plastic bag, when Jack reached what Sherlock deemed a distance far enough so she wouldn't listen to what he had to say. He turned his eyes towards John, who was still short of breath after the laugh, but he must've felt Sherlock eyes because he turned to him as well.

- I'm sorry John. – The look in Sherlock's eyes was not one of regret, but the firm way he said it, let it clear that he wasn't lying. – I'll never leave you again, not ever... I promise.

Sherlock probably has never said something that meant so much to him, to someone who means everything to him. John remained silent, the last time Sherlock was so open and sincere, he died, scratch that, disappeared for three years leaving him broken, John's thoughts were merely there, because he didn't have to think about Sherlock's words, he'd trusted him after meeting him for a day, why start distrusting him now, his brain had already decided to forgive him no matter what happened from that point on.

...

Jack had gone out just to get some air, letting them talk, catch up or whatever they wanted to do, it was crystal clear to anyone who was with them for more than five minutes that their relationship went a little beyond as just flatmates. It was a rainy night, she didn't wanted to catch a cold so she walked towards 221B Baker Street, she opened the door, but she didn't went all the way to the flat, she just took her jacket off, shook her almost damped hair and sat down on the stairs and waited, she wasn't sure if she was allowed to enter, she arrived after Sherlock and now he was back, she was now the outsider.

- Punched you already? – She said out loud, feeling a presence behind her. – Uncle Mycroft and I had a bet; she turned her head around, looking at the undamaged cheekbones – Looks like I win.

- I guess Mycroft doesn't know John as well as you. – Sherlock sat down beside her, handing her a towel. – Why do you keep calling him uncle Mycroft?

- I don't know, John told me to when he got all of my papers on his name and it does has a ring to it. – She said while drying her hair.

- Papers? – Sherlock said, not really trying to make it sound like a question. – He adopted you. – Sherlock said more as a realization than a statement, Jack just nodded.

- You should thank me, if it wasn't for me, he probably would be married by now.

That statement caught Sherlock by surprise and he couldn't hide it from his face, Jack chuckled, they talked for a while longer, Jack at some point got upset, cause he was asking her all of the questions John should've answered by now, Sherlock defending himself telling her John wouldn't answer any questions concerning her, when practically everything came down to her.

- He just said he was busy. – Sherlock said rubbing his eyes.

She explained how she had actually been admiring Sherlock before meeting John, how she lived in the streets and grabbed newspapers form the garbage to read all about the case the great Sherlock Holmes solved, how everything went sour when the rumours of him being a fraud started to rise, she never believed them and as a random twist of fate, she was there when Sherlock fell, she saw the whole process of the plan, to make John believe he was dead, took her a while to figure it out, why he did it.

- I'm not smart as you but I do try. – She admitted.

She figured everything was a trap, a man like Sherlock Holmes certainly has enemies, so she did her own research, names on the street started popping out, one in particular "Moriarty" the man who drove Sherlock to commit a fake suicide.

One day on her research she returned to St. Barts and bumped into John, she wasn't lying when she said he looked dreadful at the time, but his kind heart was there and she figured it was because of her looks that Sherlock admitted to himself really resembled him. He took her in, before she even realized, she was living there, Mycroft had fixed everything to make it look like she was his daughter all along, she smiled.

- I made sure to ruin all of his dates.

Normal life suited John, but she knew he wanted something more, so one day when Lestrade visited, she asked him to give them a case, she admitted it wasn't as easy as Sherlock made it look, but they manage to solve it together, she praised John acquired skills from when working with Sherlock, he was more observant when he needed to be, thinking faster and able to run miles chasing a criminal, Lestrade gave them a case a month, keeping him busy, months passed by likes this, Mycroft actually believed Sherlock was alive and here they were.

A slight scent of was they both assumed was dinner took them out of the conversation.

- John actually kicked you out of the kitchen didn't he? – Sherlock rolled his eyes and Jack laughed.

Sherlock got up intending to go upstairs, but noticed Jack hadn't move, so he stood still, Jack noticed and looked up, Sherlock was offering a hand accompanied by a caring smile, Jack didn't move for a couple of seconds but she finally took it and they walked upstairs to watch John fumbling with some plates, wearing an apron.

- Get ready, everyone will arrive at any moment – John said not allowing any protest while putting about 8 plates on the table – Sherlock take a shower and shave properly, your clothes are on my wardrobe and Jack put on something dry.

Sherlock didn't comment about the last part or even the first one, and nodded, so did Jack, Sherlock took his time with the shower, it was the first decent shower he had in all those years, he intended to enjoy it, once he was all dressed up and properly shaved he went downstairs and looked at practically the minimal space left with all of the guest, from Mycroft to Irene, who just kissed him on the cheek when he walked beside her, Molly and Mrs. Hudson hugged him and Lestrade just shook his hand, strongly, John was waiting with Jack.

- Apparently Mycroft called everyone to let them know you were alive, John received a text from him shortly after you talked, and that's why he started cooking all of a sudden.

Jack whispered at him when he arrived with John, making him understand the situation, they all sat down for dinner, which wasn't probably the most fancy one or the best one they ever had, but Sherlock could've swear it certainly felt like it.

Everyone started talking about what happened while Sherlock was gone, Sherlock even let out little things off his time away; the talk flowed as if there was nothing wrong, as if there never was.

- Sherlock we have a gift for you – Lestrade suddenly talked, slightly flushed from the wine – It's from Jack, but she agreed to let us join her, since we found out about this today.

Mycroft took from the couch a wrapped box, he passed it to Sherlock, who look suspicious, he started unwrapping the box, expectant eyes where following all of his movements, he finally opened the box and rolled his eyes with a really loud sigh, a burst of laughter including John's filled the flat, Sherlock took out of the box a deerstalker and put it on without even protesting.

Dinner was over, but some spent a little more time just talking, after everyone left, Jack yawned and walked to her room, which was of Sherlock's before, making John remember Sherlock didn't have a place to sleep, he said something about him sleeping on the couch but Sherlock interrupted him.

- I think we should change her last name to Holmes – John looked confused – No offense John, but her initials are "JW" just the same as you, how am I supposed to know which one you it is in case you text me or something of the sort?

- No – John immediately denied it – I'm sure the great Sherlock Holmes can deduce which one of us is texting him, besides that's not her full name. – Sherlock looked at him intensely.

- Why did you make her call Mycroft her uncle? - Sherlock said with a slight smirk, John flushed.

- I didn't... I just...

- You see, the only way Mycroft could be her uncle is if I was one of her parents, due to the fact that I have no other brothers or sisters, that I know of.

- Wait, you're not implying that...

- May I see her birth certificate? – Sherlock interrupted.

John froze and shook his head denying the request, Sherlock got close to him with a smile and kissed his forehead.

- Her initials are JWH – John said just above a whisper – I'm sure you won't get confused.

Sherlock widened his smile and grabbed his arm guiding him to what he correctly assumed would be their room, and smile allowing that rising sense of joy filled him, for now he was really at home.