"Sherlock? Where are you?" I called tiredly, still lying facedown in bed, covers pulled up over you.

"Living room"

I sighed, forcing myself out of bed. I looked down at what I was wearing, an old, oversized top and the pyjama trousers I'd bought for Sherlock (they had a drawstring waist so once I tightened them they were wearable); I was sure Sherlock was up and dressed, so I made the decision to steal his dressing gown for the time being. Wrapping I around me tightly, I wandered through to the living room where Sherlock had said he was. "Morning" I smiled sleepily.

"Afternoon" he corrected, not looking up from the laptop he had balancing on his knees.

I rolled my eyes, smiling, looking over at the man in the armchair, "I knew that"

"No you didn't"

"Shut up" I laughed, "What're you doing?"

"Found an old SD card, I'm just going to see what's on it"

I walked across to him, "Let me see then"

He looked up, "Not loaded yet"

I sat on the arm of the chair, looking down at the laptop screen and the loading bar. I yawned, my eyes closing, then struggling to open again. Before I could even manage that, a strong arm wrapped itself around my waist and pulled me down onto Sherlock's lap. I tried to be serious and keep a straight face, "And what do you think you're doing?"

"Making you comfortable"

I laughed, aloud. "Right, okay" I flung my legs up and over the arm of the chair, sitting up against Sherlock's chest and he sat the laptop on my thighs.

When the pictures loaded, Sherlock opened them into a slideshow. The first picture was blurry, but if I squinted I was almost sure it was our old flat. The next picture faded in and showed the same image again but clearer, the living room of our old flat - one sofa, a dining table, a bookcase and a lot of empty space. I grinned, looking up at Sherlock and the amused look on his face.

The next picture loaded and I burst out laughing. It was basically the same picture as before, only now a much younger looking Sherlock stood in the doorway that had led to the short hall, with only a towel wrapped around his waist, barely coming halfway down his thighs, with an accompanying look of confusion and amusement on his face. "I don't even remember taking this picture!" I giggled, a warm blush coming over my face.

"Well, I can tell you that you didn't blush like that when you did"

The next few pictures depicted Sherlock chasing the camera (me) around the room, holding up his towel with a determined, if not slightly manic look on his face. I couldn't stop laughing, and despite Sherlock's attempt to seem unamused he was laughing too. The following pictures seemed to be more or less random, pictures of Sherlock and I, Lestrade, Molly and occasionally Mycroft's disapproving face too. There were pictures from birthday's and Christmases and random holidays paid fir with Mycroft's money. There were more pictures from the flat too, random others that we couldn't place alongside incredibly memorable ones.

Another picture faded onto screen. I was sleeping on our old sofa, extremely babyfaced, my hair everywhere. The next picture loaded, and it was basically identical to the last. I looked up at Sherlock, "Why did you take these ones?" He shrugged slightly, continuing to look at the screen, which was now showing a third near identical picture of me sleeping on the sofa. "Sherlock?" I laughed.

"You looked... cute"

I laughed harder, "Did you just call me cute, Sherlock Holmes?"

"At the time, you looked cute"

Grinning, I leant up and kissed his cheek, "I'll be fair, you looked cue back then too - before that last growth spurt and you actually started looking older than 17" I laughed.

"Yes, yes - whatever" He kissed my forehead gently, before smiling back at the computer screen - that showed another picture the same as the last.

"How many bloody pictures did you take?"