John ran out of the hospital and stopped to catch his breath. He looked for Mary but she had vanished. He shook his head and tried to figure out what he should do. How did he end up here? It was all a total mess now. He'd hurt Mary by being with Sherlock. And he suspected that he'd hurt Sherlock by running after Mary. In a matter of minutes he'd hurt two of the people he loved most in the world. Because, yes, he still loved Mary, just not as strongly as he loved Sherlock. But maybe Sherlock was ok now he'd got Mycroft, John thought, I need to fix this with Mary. So he decided to catch a cab and go home to their house because sooner or later that's where she'd need to go. He waved to a cab standing in the parking lot and jumped in, told the driver the address and then they left the hospital. On his way home John was full of regrets. He felt bad at leaving Sherlock without saying anything. What would he think now? What if he thought that he'd chosen Mary instead of him? No, damn no. Why is life so complicated? This was such a mess and John knew that he was the only one that could make it right. Both with Mary and with Sherlock. He took out his phone and texted him, knowing that Sherlock always preferred text to an actual call.

08.37

"I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye. Must find Mary. It's important. Are we ok? JW"

08.43

"It's all fine. SH"

Somehow Sherlock's answer made John feel sick. Those were the words that John always said when nothing was fine at all. Fine? No. Nothing was fine.

When John got back to the house he stood outside for a while, looking at it. It looked so different now than a year ago when he and Mary had bought it. It looked like a shell of something that had never been real. Something that he'd wanted to be real between him and Mary but had just been an illusion. The house was nice, but it wasn't his home. Home is where the heart is, and John's heart was still beating for 221b Baker Street. However dark and dusty, crowded and messy it was, it was still where his heart was. He looked over to the stairs and remembered that night when he had kissed Sherlock, right there on the stair. He could almost see it before his eyes. How he had turned and faced Sherlock and how he had kissed him right on the mouth. He was a bit surprised that he had done it. It was still a bit of a shock to him and all the butterflies that had tumbled around in his body woke up and made him shiver even though it wasn't chilly outside. Sherlock had kissed him back and it had been wonderful. John realized in that moment that his fingers were touching his lips, like they wanted to remember the touch of Sherlock's lips against his. The kisses and cuddles from yesterday still lingered in him. Sherlock smelled good too. John took a deep breath pretending he was breathing in Sherlock's scent. John wanted to keep that scent inside a bottle and keep it with him forever. Then he remembered the first time he'd met Sherlock. How blown away he'd been by him. Not just by his looks, because that had been the first thing that he'd noticed, no by his intellect and how he deduced him. And Sherlock's reaction when John had been impressed by it. He didn't expect that. Maybe he'd fallen in love with him in that moment. But it wasn't until later that John had realized his real feelings for him. John smiled a little at the memory and started to walk up to the house. He unlocked the door and walked in. It was empty. No Mary. He hadn't really expected her to be there. But what should he do now? He walked in to the kitchen and saw the box with Sherlock's things lying inside it. They had released the bees when Sherlock had disappeared. He gently stroked the books in the box. Sherlock's books, and therefore special to John. A small piece of paper with Sherlock's handwriting on it was sticking out from the book. John picked it up and put it in the inside pocket of his jacket. Keeping a small bit of Sherlock close to his heart. Then he went upstairs and found a bag and started to pack. He knew that it was he who would move out. Mary didn't have anyone that she knew here in London and her parents were dead. So it had to be John that moved out. And honestly, he didn't want to stay here. He wanted to go back to 221b Baker Street. Back to the life he had before Sherlock died.

Dead. John stopped and looked up from his bag. Sherlock had been gone for two years. With all that had happened in the last few days he'd forgotten about that. And John couldn't decide how he felt about it anymore. Mostly he was relieved to have Sherlock back. To be able to feel again. Two years in the shadows was more than he could bare. And now that Sherlock was back, he was going to do everything he could to be with Sherlock. To feel whole again.

It had gone dark and started to rain when Mary finally came home. At that time John had already packed his stuff in the bag, mostly clothes, and now the bag and the box with Sherlocks things stood in the hallway. John sat in the kitchen waiting for Mary when she opened the door and came in. John looked up at Mary. Mary looked at John.

- Hi, John whispered.

The air vibrated with emotions and unspoken anger.

- Hi, Mary answered, you've packed.

- Yeah, I thought it was for the best.

John stood up and walked slowly towards Mary.

- I am truly sorry Mary. I want you to know that.

Mary just looked at him not saying anything.

- This is hard for me too, John continued. It's been a shock just to have him back. And I do love you, Mary, it's just...

- That I'm not Sherlock... Mary whispered, looking down.

- No... I mean yes... I mean I don't know and..., John stumbled on the words.

- See, you don't even deny it.

- I mean, I wasn't sure about anything and it wasn't until we kissed that...

- Stop! Wait?! What!? You kissed?!

- Oh I mean... John sighed. You obviously didn't know that.

- No I did not know that John! You kissed Sherlock?!

- I'm sorry, I...

- Out! I want you out of the house right now! NOW!

She took the bag and opened the door and threw it out. The bag opened when it landed and lots of clothes spread over the driveway. The rain soaked the clothes almost at once. John stood on the stairway and looked at the bag, then turned around to face Mary.

- Mary, please... I'm sorry...

- It's too late John. I can't right now.

She looked at John with all hurt and sadness in her eyes.

- I really didn't want it to end this way, he said.

- Me neither, she said.

And then she closed the door, leaving John in the rain.