Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock
Better
Eventually, Lestrade left to file a full report on Moran. The police cars turned off their flashing lights and left Baker Street in peace. Mrs. Hudson slipped downstairs to bed with one last watery smile.
Sherlock Holmes and John Watson sat before the fire in Baker Street once more.
They talked long into the night. Sherlock told of his encounters with terrorists, John told about some of his more colorful patients of the last few years. The detective recounted capturing murderers across the globe, the doctor relayed his story of finally scoring a date with Mary and described their blossoming relationship. Old jokes were resurrected, shared memories revisited. Both pretended not to envy the escapades of the other. Neither spoke of the fear and loneliness of the last three years.
Finally, a few hours before dawn, they lapsed into a comfortable silence. Sherlock actually thought John might have dozed off, so he was slightly startled when his friend spoke.
"It won't be the same as it was," John said. "You know that."
"Yes," Sherlock replied softly.
"We're different people than we used to be," John sighed. "And I'm with Mary. She's going to come first from now on."
"I think I could cope with second place. Just once." Sherlock said, only half joking.
John just smiled.
Finally, things were right again.