A/N: Some military!John (or soldier!John, not really sure what it's called lol) for your viewing pleasure: marielikestodraw dot tumblr dot com/post/3915951996 ...yeah, I didn't draw that :P enjoy chapter 5 :)

"John... John!" Sherlock called after the khaki-clad figure as he marched jauntily down the street.

"What?" John called over his shoulder without stopping.

"Wait, will you?" John slowed his pace and turned, watching Sherlock jog up the street towards him, simultaneously pulling on his coat and rubbing his face.

"This makes a change," John commented as Sherlock caught up. "When it's hobbit versus daddy-long-legs, I don't usually win."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and fell into step beside the soldier.

"What have you been doing with yourself all this time then, apart from consorting with Mycroft?"

"Give it a rest, John. I wasn't in and out of Whitehall every week, you know."

"What then?"

"I spent some time in Tibet, studying a certain type of martial art with the Buddhist monks and then, when I was sure Moriarty's agents were no longer watching the borders of Europe, I travelled back through Russia and across Germany to the Netherlands and then down into the south of France. I have been working on carbon nano-tubing in Montpellier with an acquaintance from university for the last seven months, waiting for an opportunity to cross the Channel and move back to London."

"And after all that sneaking around, you're just walking through the middle of the city without any kind of disguise?"

"Hiding in plain sight."

"Oh right."

They reached the corner shop and John went in, emerging a few minutes later with not only milk, but a new box of teabags and a packet of Digestive biscuits. Sherlock loitered outside and observed the comings and goings of everyone around him. There was no where on earth quite like his London. His and John's London.

"Sherlock? Let's go."

They started back for the flat.

"Your turn now, John. How was Afghanistan?"

"Hot and dusty, much like the last time."

"Don't be facetious, John , it doesn't become you."

"It was what I needed. I thought you were dead... I needed the thrill of the battle again."

"I know you're not living at 221B; you're presumably posted at a barracks somewhere?"

"Yeah, near the RAF base at Brize Norton."

"...Oxfordshire?"

"Yeah."

"Are you planning on leaving- the army, I mean- then, now I'm back?" John was surprised at the uncertainty in Sherlock's tone. He was even more surprised at the uncertainty in his own answer.

"Well, my contract doesn't end for another eight months, so I can't leave until then. And we've been posted again anyway."

"Surely not Afghanistan? Not so soon after-"

"No, it's Cyprus."

"Bit of a holiday then?"

John chuckled. "Pretty much. It's only six months and there shouldn't be any trouble. And... well, I'll see about leaving after that."

Sherlock's eyes bored into him. They were nearly at the door to 221B.

"The thing is, I'm about to be promoted, provided I don't fuck up anything regards my company in Cyprus and after that, I'll probably be taken off active service. I could see if I could be moved up here, get a position in the MOD offices..."

"It wouldn't be the same, John." Sherlock felt it was only fair to warn him.

"I watched you die, Sherlock. I can handle change."

John's eyes were suddenly cold and hard and he entered 221B without another word. Sherlock followed.