(A/N: Fair warning, the next chapter update may be quite slow to come due to the time commitment required of me for revision work on my next book with deadlines to meet for its publication later this year. I'll apologize now but wanted to let you know this fanfic won't be dropped since I'm having a lot of fun with it. Thank you to Niflheim89 for your faithful following of this story and reviews of each chapter. Your review comments for chapter 12 were spot on to what I was trying to achieve! *happy dance* I'm going ahead and posting this chapter now instead of waiting a bit because you requested it sooner rather than later. Additional thanks to everyone else who reads this story, and I hope to hear from you in reviews as well. I personally love this chapter and want to know what you think of it. Btw, if you have an extra few minutes of time, go to YouTube and search for the fan-made video of Benedict Cumberbatch dancing to "Uptown Funk"... It's absolutely adorable and hilarious and kind of goes along with one little piece of this chapter. You'll know which one. Lol.)

Chapter 13 – Having a Moment

Moving day.

It arrived quicker than I'd expected.

Although she had until the end of June, we decided Victoria would fully move to Baker Street on the third Saturday of the month, the fifteenth, two weeks after I'd asked her to do so. This gave her time to sort whatever remaining larger items, furniture and whatnot that she wasn't bringing with her and still have a bit of time to clean her old flat in order to receive her deposit back.

During those two weeks, we had brought over a few boxes of her belongs here and there as time allowed, trying to lessen the workload for the actual day and had done a rather fair job of it. By moving day itself, Victoria and I, along with the assistance of John, Mary, and Lucas (His fiancée was once again away since modeling apparently involved a great deal of traveling.) made quick work of packing the remaining belongings at her flat, loading them into a lorry Lucas borrowed from a family friend.

Victoria taped a box closed, patted it firmly, and looked up at me, head cocked, an odd expression on her face. "This is the last one, Sherlock. Sure you don't want to change your mind before we head to Baker Street, unload everything I own, and I invade your home?"

"I'm positive." Picking the box off the floor, I found I felt a sense of relief to see how empty her flat's kitchen seemed. There was no sense of anxiety I'd worried would plague me at the air of finality that existed upon seeing her possessions boxed and prepared to join mine. "Come, darling, let's go home."

Home. 221B Baker Street.

In the grand scheme of things in my life, it hadn't been my home nearly as long as other places, and for some time, I couldn't imagine it as home without John. But as we arrived, and Mrs. Hudson waved at us excitedly, holding the door while we began unloading boxes, filing through the door, and filling the floors with cardboard cubes full of Victoria's belongings, my mind filled with images of a far different life in my home, in our home, a more permanent change, and a fuller life.

"Oh, thank God. Here it is," Victoria exclaimed at the third box she carried inside, setting it on the desk, tearing the tape off, and quickly pulling out its contents. "This day would drag on forever if we didn't get some tunes going. Everything goes faster with music." She grinned at me, and I couldn't resist grinning in reply, taking in her vibrancy.

"I'm still learning an appreciation for certain aspects of your taste in music, but I don't fail to appreciate your love for dancing regardless."

Lucas entered just as the first song began, carrying three boxes at once with ease, much to my annoyance. "Music. Brilliant. I just called and ordered pizza for everyone. We'll turn this job into a party yet, Vick." His ability to set down heavy boxes gracefully while dancing was inhuman. "John, break it down, mate. Show me your moves," he teased my best friend the moment he came through the door.

If there was one thing that I found more irritating about S. Lucas Fielding than his habit of calling Victoria by the nickname 'Vick' than it was most definitely the fact that he got on all-too well with John and Mary. I could almost forgive Mary, as it seemed she had known Lucas nearly as long as she'd known Victoria, him being a friend of a friend once she became friends with Victoria. However, John…

John was mine, my best friend.

"Where does this box go, Victoria? It's marked 'clothes – bedroom' but not which bedroom," Mary asked when she carried in a relatively small box, the most any of us would allow given her delicate condition, despite much argument on her part.

"Um. Well…" Victoria looked to me with an odd expression of questioning concentration, brows creased. "I have clothes in both bedrooms, but what's left to unpack is really the stuff I actually wear, which should be where I'll be sleeping, so… I guess upst—"

I interrupted the discussion by quickly taking the box from Mary, and without a word, I carried it directly to my own bedroom, hearing Victoria's footsteps following behind me.

We had not yet taken our relationship to that level, engaging in sexual intimacy, though we had fallen asleep together on the sofa more than once. Never had we shared a bed, even under nonsexual circumstances, not for a lack of interest on either side, I believed. At least I knew there to be no lack on my part, and Victoria seemed quite interested in every physical aspect of a relationship with me as well.

I set the box on the bed and began tapping my fingers nervously atop it, waiting for the sound of the door to close behind her, expecting a private conversation to ensue given her following me to the bedroom. It seemed only logical.

"Sherlock, I won't feel any less welcome if you prefer I sleep in the upstairs bedroom for a while. And you don't have to do this just because of everyone here. Our relationship status, how we choose to do things is none of their business. I don't want to make this awkward."

The rhythm I tapped matched that of the song playing from her iPod in the living room, and I could hear everyone else as they continued to unload the lorry, bringing the request I'd made for Victoria to move into 221B Baker Street to a conclusion, finalizing the level of commitment I'd made, one in which I found inexplicable joy.

"I know I stated that the logical progression of the relationship would lead to this as an eventuality, presumably meaning this something I intended at a future date. My apologies," I began, "but I had yet come to a conclusive decision regarding my particular feelings on the matter at the time and felt it best not to be more specific. Will you be uncomfortable with the living arrangement if I wish you to share a bedroom with me, Victoria, if it is my desire that we live as couple rather than flatmates beginning now rather than at a later date?"

Finally, I turned to face her, finding her face flushed, eyes dilated, and had no doubt her heart raced just as mine did. "I swear not to be offended if you say this is not what you want, but I will dare to be so presumptuous as to state that you want this just as much as I do, Victoria."

"Yes." She whispered the word, a nervous smile trembling on her lips, but her face lit with a happiness to match my own, and I closed the distance of a few strides between us quickly, throwing my arms around her, lifting her, and spinning us around, grinning like a madman as she laughed and hugged my neck.

"Welcome home, Victoria." Setting her back on her feet, I kissed her briefly yet passionately, unable to contain the excitement of everything I'd already found in my new perspective seemingly gained by 'returning from the dead.' "Now let's ensure your personal belongings are appropriated to our bedroom as they should be, darling."

Even the sound of Loki yowling from his cat carrier in the corner of the kitchen couldn't take the spring out of my step, and the music added a bit of extra groove, perhaps a little funk given the particular music playing while we headed back out to the lorry to get more boxes. Mrs. Hudson smiled widely at the sight of me, and I knew I wore an uncustomary wide smile myself, but I couldn't stop.

"Oh, Sherlock, I've never seen you so happy, dear, not even serial murders make you so bright and cheery. It's just lovely."

I clasped her shoulders and took in a deep breath. "It's a beautiful summer day, I have wonderful friends, and I'm in love, Mrs. Hudson, what more could I want?"

With a sly grin, she winked. "The pitter-patter of little feet certainly wouldn't be an unwelcome sound at Baker Street, you know."

"I'm quite sure John won't stop visiting simply because he and Mary have the baby," I remarked, slightly confused at first. Then her comment settled on me, and I was silent for a moment as she clucked on with comments regarding my personal happiness and fussed with the collar of my shirt. "You don't think I'd bodge it up quite terribly, make a right mess of any child cursed with me as a father?"

She took my face in her hands and smiled gently, her eyes knowing more than I could fathom. "Not at all. You'd love them unconditionally, lay down your life to protect them, and teach them more than most fathers could pay an army of tutors to teach their children. Any child would be fortunate to be raised by such a wonderful man as their father, Sherlock… And you and Victoria would make such beautiful little Holmes babies," she added in a conspiratorial whisper.

Nodding, I mumbled a thank you and went on out to help the rest of the group.

I'd thought at great length of wanting a 'normal' life like John, of love and marriage, and perhaps somewhere on the furthest edge of my thoughts, the idea that children could enter into that equation existed, but I hadn't allowed myself to truly consider it.

In truth, I felt there was a fine line between believing I could have enough 'normalcy' to be happy and being greedy, wanting more than I deserved. Allowing myself to consider fatherhood too seriously had felt as though I was definitely crossing that line, wanting something I neither deserved nor was suited for in life.

But Mrs. Hudson crumbled my self-doubt in one fell swoop through the honest assessment of my landlady. She was one of the few people I trusted implicitly, despite her few questionable personal indulgences. Although, in my opinion, everyone should be entitled to their own eccentricities, and such things make them no less trustworthy to those who know them best. To that end, I held Mrs. Hudson in high esteem and took great pride in her personal opinion of me.

"What's that adorable grin for?" Victoria reached up to lightly pinch my cheek, and I leaned over, kissing hers.

"Nothing yet absolutely everything… Books?" I glanced at the box she carried. "That must be rather heavy. Let me take it." She shook her head but handed it over without a fight, having quickly learnt how stubborn I could be and knowing it would be far easier to get another box than argue the point. "Quite simply put, I couldn't be more chuffed if I were the King of England."

Victoria merely snickered, but John rolled his eyes and remarked, "Sherlock, you do know we don't have a king at the moment, don't you?"

I huffed. "John, I'm having a moment. Can't you just shut up, and let me have my moment?"

"Oh, well, make way, people. The Drama King of England is having a moment," John announced loudly, to no one in particular, and I began having a new moment, one spent reflecting on why exactly John was my best friend.