They drove out after a couple of days when Sherlock had regained some of his strength. John already had a hard time keeping him from the computer, so getting away was the only chance of continuing the recuperation.

Colonel's house stood at the end of a quiet lane with only two other houses on it, surrounded by woods and fields. Hayter met them outside. He was a stout man in his fifties with a handshake to crush fingers as he welcomed them cheerfully.

"Well, well, John," he eyed Sherlock curiously, "so glad you could finally make it. And this would be the famous Sherlock Holmes then. An honour to meet you."

John felt awkward. He had made no 'coming-out' announcements. It had been simply a matter of stopping to correct people, when they assumed him and Sherlock were more than friends. That didn't apply to his old friends, though, as they had never taken him for anything but straight. He figured the word had gotten around anyway, but didn't know what Hayter or anyone else really thought about the matter. But no fuss was made as Hayter took them to their room on the second floor, well away from his own at the other end of the corridor. There was a small study next to the room, which Hayter had cleared for Sherlock's use in case he needed it.

After settling in, they had drinks and John helped Hayter cook dinner, while Sherlock studied the library. Hayter only needed one scotch before his curiosity got the better of him.

"So, John, I never took you for a…" John wasn't going to help him in finding a politically correct term. "I never thought you were… men, then, eh?"

John took a long sip from his own glass. He hadn't really discussed the matter with anybody.

"Caught me by surprise, too."

"You used to be quite a hit with the ladies, as I recall."

"Don't know about that… but I had my share."

"So, when did you realise…?"

When I caught myself sucking Sherlock's cock? Or the first time I shoved mine up his arse? John grinned to himself.

"Sherlock just… grew on me, I suppose. He is absolutely brilliant, one of a kind."

"Good for you then. Good for you. Always happy to see a mate find someone special. Let's drink to that."

They clinked their glasses and downed what was left, both relieved that the extremely uncomfortable topic had now been dealt with. Nevertheless John appreciated Hayter bringing it up. It was better to have the questions upfront than speculated behind his back.

After dinner Sherlock and Hayter got engrossed in studying his collection of arms, which included rarities from around the world. Hayter was well-travelled and knew his subject thoroughly, so he was fully capable in engaging Sherlock in intelligent conversation. John happily sat by himself in a comfy chair and lifted his feet up. He had a book with him for alibi, but no plans of opening it. Finally a bit of rest and comfort for him as well. It had been a long time since he had last sat down without a nagging worry over Sherlock at the back of his mind. The man was on his feet and had eaten, so John could relax with a clear conscience.

Drifting off John was jerked awake by the two men joining him.

"Could I try one or two of the pistols tomorrow?" Sherlock was asking.

"Sure, I have a bit of a practise lane at the back. Not strictly legal, but since the neighbours don't grumble, who's going to notice?"

"Mind you," he continued, "I might do well in taking one of them with me upstairs tonight, just in case."

John became interested: "Why is that?"

"One of the bigwigs 'round here, old Acton, had his house broken into on Monday. No real damage done, but they don't know who did it either."

"No clues?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing yet, as far as I know. Well, the affair is a petty one, of course, a common burglary, none of the excitement you're used to."

Sherlock waved his hand politely, although his smile revealed he was pleased at not being taken for someone who solves the mysteries of stolen televisions.

"Was there anything out of the ordinary about it?" he graciously returned the favour by appearing interested.

"I fancy not. They'd gone in through the patio doors, I imagine, and ransacked the library. Turned the place upside down. Precious little they got for their trouble: a copy of 'Homer', a couple of worthless candlesticks, a crystal swan – I've seen the thing, I'm sure it won't be missed – an oak barometer and, would you believe it, a ball of twine."

"They won't be making bank with that," John gagged.

"No, apparently they just grabbed what they could."

Sherlock grunted dismissively: "The local police should be able to deal with that. It's obvious that…"

But John cut him short: "Sherlock, don't even start. You're here to rest."

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders and shared an amused smile with Hayter.

"Whatever you say, doctor."

They continued with less dangerous topics and as Sherlock went to bed early, John and Hayter spent the evening rattling off about the past and their common friends.