John woke up in the middle of the night, pulled out of his slumber by the pleasantly familiar traffic noises of Baker Street. He needed a moment to remember he was finally home, had gone to sleep in his own bed in his own room a few hours ago.

He felt deep gratitude towards Dr. Fredricksson and his team, but nevertheless he had spent the last days in Stockholm longing for home. His right hand was still far from being all right again, but he had grown sick of watching Sherlock's successful attempt to purge his name and uncover the truth about Moriarty on telly. Even hearing about it from Sherlock himself didn't still his restlessness.

Sherlock had spent a surprisingly high amount of time with John in hospital, coming from London four or five times a week, usually by a helicopter Mycroft had organised using God knows which sources.

He had kept a jealous watch on John's treatment, reducing more than one doctor or nurse to tears for not being competent enough or foreseeing enough or not being nice enough towards John. His way of taking care, John assumed, and also his way of making up for everything he still felt guilty about.

Now John had finally been sent home again, with heavy instructions concerning his hand and his general welfare, and was happy simply lying in his own bed, listening to the familiar noise from outside.

After a while, he realised that there was another sound mixing into the city's background music. Voices, one of them his own. Sleepily he went down the stairs and found Sherlock still sitting in the living room, John's notebook on his lap. He was frowning and so lost in thought that he didn't hear John approaching him.

"If he were, he wouldn't have made you believe he killed himself in front of your eyes!" he heard a familiar voice that made the hairs on his arm rise. Sherlock was still unaware of his presence, concentrating so hard John could almost hear the gears in his head working.

"Why are you watching that again?" he asked softly, sitting down next to his friend who looked a little like a boy caught stealing sweets. Several expressions flickered across his face in the seconds before he looked up from the screen.

"I ..." Sherlock seemed to ponder several answers before he went on: "... need to deduce something." John glanced at the screen as well. He saw himself, tied to that dreadful chair, his face a mess, swollen and pale and sweaty and bruised. And he saw Sebastian Moran, tall and handsome, but his face equally pale and sweaty.

He couldn't help but grin smugly once more: "I was good, wasn't I?" "You were brilliant, Captain!" Sherlock answered, not a hint of mocking in his voice. They sat comfortably next to each other for a while, then Sherlock suddenly put the laptop down and turned towards John. "That reminds me ..." he said and stretched out his left hand for John to take. "Thank you!" he said, solemnly shaking John's unhurt hand.

"You're welcome" John answered, and after a while he asked curiously: "What for?" This earned him the first "John, really?"-glance in a long time: "For saving your life!"

Oh. John felt like he should make a funny remark, like "It wasn't entirely altruistic", but for some reason he didn't quite trust his voice right now. Instead, he just smiled and watched Sherlock's face light up as well, wondering a little at how warm it made him feel inside.

They continued sitting next to each other for a while, both happy about being home, both lost in thought, before Sherlock went on: "Your line of argument has been very … convincing!" John smiled at him. "Yes, good thing that someone once taught me that the right balance of truth and lies is vital to placing ideas in people's heads."

"And your acting abilities have clearly benefited from the heavy surveillance you've been under after my fall." Now John began to understand what was going on in Sherlock's funny mind. "Good thing you have no difficulty telling when I was lying and when not!" he prompted, watching Sherlock from the corner of his eyes. "Of course" the consulting detective lied. Bugger!

They became quiet again, and in spite of the rather serious topic John felt his eyes becoming really reluctant to stay open. His thoughts trailed off to the wonderful landscape of Umbria he didn't really had a chance to enjoy, and he had almost fallen asleep when Sherlock suddenly said: "You knew he loved me."

John blinked, trying to keep up with the twists of Sherlock's vulnerable mind. "Well, yes, I ..." he started, but Sherlock cut in almost instantly: "I mean, I still fail to understand how someone can love me. I know some people regard me as attractive, I've been using that regularly, but love me? How could you have known something as absurd as that?"

John looked at his friend for a while. Several answers presented themselves to him only to be dismissed instantly. Because you are so brilliant. Because you do have an enormously big heart, no matter how hard you try to conceal it. Because you look so breathtaking when you are honestly shy. Because you do play the violin for me at night.

How could he put all that in words without ...

Sherlock frowned, obviously deducing God knows what from John's face. Then all of a sudden he smiled, one of those rare happy smiles that always lit up John's mood. "I see!" he stated, and held John's gaze for a heartbeat. And another. And another. And another. "You see" John repeated, and ignored the blush he felt rising in his cheeks, for some strange reason not wanting to look away either. Then he smiled, too.

They sat like that for a little eternity, shifting their talk to lighter topics. When John slowly fell asleep listening to Sherlock detailing on what exactly he had done in Tibet three months ago, he didn't mind at all that his head dropped softly onto Sherlock's shoulder.

Thank you all for reading! It was a tremendous fun to write this one, and I've been so sad when I realized that it's finished. But then, the next one is already planned...

This would not have been possible without my wonderful betas Bev and GoSherlocked, who spent their time roughing out all my mistakes and giving moral support.

I specially praise GoSherlocked, for realising this would be pre-slash when I was still thinking it would be friendship only!