John awoke with a start. The fire alarm was going off, its shrill, irritating beep cutting short a nightmare. In a way he was grateful for its disturbance, as he had just been reliving Sherlock's fall. Now that he had Sherlock back, he assumed the dreams would stop but it seems they hadn't got the memo. It was during this train of thought that John realised Sherlock was no longer sleeping beside him. The fire alarm stopped and he heard Sherlock's low voice cursing at it in hushed tones. John checked the time, it was 6am. Yep, everything really was returning to normal.

Or so John thought, as he flopped back into the fluffy pillow and closed his eyes. Moments later he was awoken again by the sound of Sherlock crashing through the door. He kept his eyes closed tight, willing the detective to let him catch a few more hours of precious sleep. Go on, Sherlock, use your powers of deduction to realise I want to be left in peace.

"John, I know you're awake," Sherlock whispered, gently nudging the half asleep doctor with his foot. "John, please open your eyes!"

"What, Sherlock? Can't you see I'm tired?" John rolled over on to his front, burying his face in the covers.

"Please, John, I... I got up extra early to s-surprise you and I...I..." John could hear that Sherlock was getting upset. He knew that it was probably an act but it still made his heart ache.

He sat up and was amazed at what he saw. Sherlock had made breakfast. John let his mouth fall open with surprise. Sherlock smiled nervously, unsure of John's reaction.

"You made me breakfast in bed!" John shook his head to clear the sleepy fog, sure that Sherlock Holmes and the tray of delicious looking food would disappear along with it.

"Greedy," Sherlock tutted, nudging John over so he could sit beside him. "I made us breakfast in bed, to share!" He gently placed the tray between them.

John was still struggling to take it all in. He tried to note it all down in his head, be analytical about it, but he was overwhelmed by the care and thought that Sherlock, the self-confessed sociopath, had obviously put into the meal. There were two plates stacked high with pancakes and drizzled in maple syrup, two mugs of hot steaming tea, two glasses of fresh orange juice and a plate of toast, half of the slices coated with golden butter and theother half swimming in raspberry jam. John, once again, let his mouth drop open.

"Do you... like it?" Sherlock asked anxiously, stirring his cup of tea slowly.

"Do I like it?" John gasped, throwing his arms around the incredible man sat beside him. "I love it! This is wonderfully thoughtful, Sherlock. Especially so for you!" he added with a teasing wink.

"It tastes nice, I promise!" As if to try and prove himself right, Sherlock picked up a piece of jammy toast and nibbled it delicately.

"I'm sure it's delicious!" John started cutting into his stack of pancakes eagerly.

Sherlock smiled and they chatted nonchalantly as they devoured their breakfast. It felt strange to John that they were acting so normal. They were almost like your average couple. He knew Sherlock was trying extra hard to make it up to him and, although he appreciated it greatly, it also felt strange. So strange, in fact, that John cut Sherlock off in the middle of talking about something he had watched on reality TV while John was still asleep.

"Sherlock..." John tried to be tentative, tiptoeing around the fact that this conversation was horrendously dull, at best. Then he realised that Sherlock was probably twice as bored as he was. "Talk to me about a case, or a dead body at the morgue, or... or... the coagulation of saliva after death. Talk to me about something Sherlock! Please?"

A slow smile crept across Sherlock Holmes' face and his eyes began to sparkle. He leant in and kissed John slowly, lovingly. When he pulled away, his expression was even more devious.

"Well, Lestrade did text me about a case, but you were sleeping so I turned it down!"

"Ridiculous!" John gasped, swallowing the last of his orange juice. "Turning down a case just so I could get a reasonable amount of sleep! How very un-Sherlock! Call him back, we must leave at once!"

Sherlock smiled at his beautiful, caring, John Watson as he dialed the number for Scotland Yard.

"Still need help on that case, Lestrade?"

John was almost elated to hear Greg Lestrade's voice muffled against Sherlock's ear. "You know we do, we already processed the scene, crimes don't wait, Sherlock!"

"Yes, yes, yes," Sherlock sighed. "Well, what do we have? John and I will be happy to assist anything above a four."

"You said you wouldn't leave the house for anything below a six!" John interjected.

"Yes, but it has been a long time and I am incredibly, incredibly bored!" Sherlock winked.

"Caucasian female, found shot, execution style. Bullet straight through the back of her head, probably died instantly."

Sherlock fidgeted and mouthed: "Level one!" at John, who sniggered disapprovingly.

"Get to the interesting stuff, I'm sure I could work out all this for myself once I'm there!"

"Yes, yes, okay!" Lestrade sounded irritated already, but there was also a hint of something else in his voice. Just the slightest lilt that suggested he was loving having Sherlock back on the team.

"There's more!" It was a statement not a question.

"Of course there's more," Lestrade could be heard to be flipping through his notepad. "It appears the bullet was to put her out of her misery. She was in a log cabin in the woods. You'll like this, Sherlock... She'd been tortured: her wrists and ankles were bound with rope, but she'd been cut loose from the stone table that was also in the room we found her in. There are a lot of symbols on the walls, we've got our deciphering team in but they're getting nowhere."

"What kind of torture?" Sherlock asked, he held up four fingers to John, who then started to get dressed. "Were there signs of sexual assault?"

"Yes , possibly raped, bruising around her inner thighs and a lot of blood, too. Lots of cuts and bruises. She's been branded on her chest and stomach, another symbol we don't recognise." Sherlock showed John two more fingers and John started dressing more quickly. "She's had her face mashed up a bit, so we can't really identify her other than with DNA profiling. She's blonde, out of a bottle by the looks of things. Found totally naked and there are no signs of clothing or any form of ID in the cabin, so we're at a dead end."

Sherlock glanced up and saw that John was ready and holding out Sherlock's coat and that famous blue scarf (which was still a tiny bit bloody).

Lestrade said eagerly, "So, will you take the case, Sherlock?"

"We're on our way!" Sherlock said as bluntly as possible, although his voice was peppered with excitement.

Sherlock stood up and quickly put on his coat and scarf. John smiled at him, now really feeling as if everything were back to the way it should be. Sherlock stooped his head and kissed John briefly but passionately. When they parted, Sherlock's eyes were sparkling with the possibility of danger and excitement to come.

"John Watson, you're a doctor," Sherlock began, and immediately John realised that he was reliving their first case together. "In fact, you're an army doctor. Any good? Seen a lot of injuries then, violent deaths... Want to see some more?"

John nodded and reached out to take Sherlock's hand.

And so began their new beginning.