Five minutes later, the detail arrived. It was a group of four plain-clothes officers with enough weapons on their persons to protect but not draw suspicion. They entered the flat in a polite and professional manner, being very respectful as they scanned the place. With the help of Lestrade they took every possible measure, secured the windows, and installed a security system. Sherlock and John sat on the couch, watching in awe at the whirlwind around them. In less than two hours everything was in place and the officers set up their posts, two at the front door of the building and two just outside of the flat.

"Well, that's the best we can do. This is one of the safest places in London right now," Lestrade said, approaching the men who were still trying to let what was happening sink in.

"Thank you," Sherlock said sincerely, standing up to shake his hand.

"Thanks," John smiled, only half sincere. He still wasn't one hundred percent on what was going on.

D.I. Lestrade nodded and left the building, leaving them alone in their flat for the first time since early that morning. It felt so long ago to them. Sherlock sighed and ruffled his hair with his right hand.

"I wasn't wrong," Sherlock said after a minute.

"About what?"

"That today would be interesting." "I don't think interesting is the right word."

"Isn't it?"

"No. I was thinking more along the lines of terrifying."

Sherlock smirked and cupped John's face in his hands, pulling him closer for a kiss on his forehead. "As long as you're safe it can only be interesting."

"What about you?"

"I don't matter, especially not this time."

John adapted a sad and frustrated expression. Sherlock didn't understand the sudden change, he cocked his head like a confused puppy.

"You're upset."

"Yes," John snapped.

"Why?"

"Because you say you don't matter."

"I don't. It's rational fact."

"I'm not going to even try to explain this to you," he sighed, his patience thinning.

"Please try. I'd truly like to understand. I don't like it when I don't understand."

John stared at Sherlock for a moment before losing himself in thought. It was a couple of minutes before he responded but the detective waited patiently, even though the threat of boredom was creeping up on him.

"Okay," John said. "I think I've found the right words. What it is, is that you think of everything from only your point of view and don't care what anyone else thinks."

"I don't see the connection."

He sighed and tried again. "You don't care what matters to other people. You may not matter to you but you matter to me."

"…Oh," he said, wondering how he could've overlooked something so simple.

"Yeah. Oh."

"Sorry," Sherlock said, looking at his shoes rather than John.

"It's fine," John said, squeezing Sherlock's shoulder as a reassuring gesture. "It's who you are. I accept that."

He smiled at John who walked away to the kitchen. When he was out of sight, his expression dropped into a disappointed one. He was disappointed in himself a little. He tried so hard but nothing ever seemed to turn out right. First he couldn't start a relationship, then it was hard to maintain one, now Moriarty had escaped and threatened everything he had worked for. He most upset at the moment about being unable to understand John. They were two different creatures, but unfortunately that didn't stop them from falling in love. He wanted to know when his life became so very complicated.

"I'm going to put a movie in. Would you like to join me?" John asked as he walked back into the living room.

"Sure," he responded, pushing aside his thoughts to enjoy a small amount of time with his John.

They sat on the couch, pretending that there was nothing to worry about in their lives. John curled into Sherlock as he watched the movie while Sherlock watched John, both gazing upon their subjects with the same amount of interest. He watched every movement the doctor made, every expression, every noise and all of it was fascinating. John Watson was a strange, beautiful being.