A/N: This was one of those chapters that I have had written in my head since the beginning of this story. This and the next one. I could not have written this with out the magnificent Ennui Enigma and the lovely johnsarmylady. There is an additional note at the end.

Stardust

Stardust – noun -1 a romantic, mystical look or sensation. 2 a multitude of stars looking like dust.

"I shall dream of moon and stars and suns in orbit around each other in a great cosmic pool of celestial light." Ennui Enigma

Positioned on a rolling hill in the Sussex Downs, was a rather shabby blanket, perfect for sitting on damp, midnight grass, and as it was an old shabby blanket it didn't matter if it ended up covered in dirt or grass or damp or other things.

Two men were in the presence of a splendidly glorious night sky that stretched out from horizon to horizon. A sea of stars covered the ceiling of the world, endless, countless, multitude. No other lights nearby, even the little cottage they'd rented for their holiday was tucked behind the hill and the lamp light glow from the windows was hidden.

One man, shorter, older, was sitting on the blanket, knees up, hugged tight, as he drank in the wonder and thrill of the sight above him, an almost painful delight filled him, left him breathless and wanting. The other stood a ways off, looking out into the darkness, contemplating a different sort of wonder. The wonder of his feelings for the other man.

"Sherlock? Come sit with me. This is the most beautiful sight. I haven't seen skies like this since Afghanistan. There are so many stars it's like a piece of the sky's been torn out and you can see heaven," Sherlock could hear the thrill in John's voice.

Sherlock refrained from making a scoffing sound. He held John's feelings too tightly wrapped in his own, precious and treasured, to snark at him about the existence of heaven. His head swiveled to take in the barely perceptible shape on the hill. He then turned his head and looked up at the marvel above him. He was reminded of another night, years ago, with a similar vista above him.

He glanced back at the man on the blanket and walked toward him. As he came closer he could discern a smile on the face of his beloved. Closer still and he could see cold starlight hidden in the warm fathomless depths of John's eyes. Starlight reflected from above, starlight swimming in the ocean blue of his eyes. John held out a hand to his partner. Taking it in his, he sat down, stiffly, mindful of an ache in his knee that would never entirely disappear, knee damaged by the unhealthy attentions of a suspect. John refused to relinquish the hand.

"Knee bothering you?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded abruptly. John chuckled, knowing Sherlock didn't like to be reminded of his human frailties even after all of these years. It was good to be able to laugh at something that at the time had been a near tragedy and had almost taken Sherlock away from him.

"I am sure my knee is still in better shape and more able to with stand the damp than your shoulder," the taller man huffed. John continued to grin, Sherlock's testiness a familiar cloak and both were comfortable with the weight and heft of it.

John also knew the knee wasn't the really reason for Sherlock's mood. Something had been bothering him all day.

John brought Sherlock's captured hand to his mouth and kissed the back.

"What's wrong love?"

Sherlock was silent for a moment. John watched him gather his thoughts, waited patiently. He knew whatever it was, the detective still had to come to grips with it. Even now he continued to have difficulties expressing anything on the emotional level.

Sherlock leaned back upon one elbow, his long legs stretched out before him, head back, eyes full of stars.

"Why do you love me?" there was an almost wistful tone to his voice. John wasn't ever surprised by the nature of questions such as these. Even after all of these years and all they had been through and all they meant to each other, there was a hidden part of Sherlock, which seemed to believe he wasn't worthy of John's love and devotion. John's heart ached for Sherlock because he still felt this way about himself but he addressed it as honestly as he did every thing else with how he felt, what he knew to be true.

"Can't help it. We were meant for each other."

Sherlock glanced at John, frowning, He felt like that was a rather dismissive answer for someone like John.

"That is your response?" there was an edge of hurt to Sherlock's voice.

John bent back so he was on level with Sherlock's head. His eyes automatically fell to the detective's perfect full mouth. Sherlock turned his head toward his loadstone, drawn there simply because John was staring at him.

"We are made of stardust, Sherlock. We are meant for each other."

"If you are referring to everything that exists, every atom, having been made from exploded stars, then yes, I suppose, but I don't understand how you can derive 'we are meant for each other' from that."

"You know what I think?"

Sherlock smirked, "Usually."

John rolled his eyes, "Yes, your magnificence. You are right, intrinsically. I think that we are all part of the cosmos, all part of exploded stars, atoms, cells, what have you, but you know, deeper than that."

"Deeper than atoms?"

"On a transcendent level, yes. Think about it. We are all made up of stardust and different parts are made up of different stars, like my left hand from my right, but let's say that the atoms of my hand," and he let go of Sherlock's hand and raised it up so it was visible, "are made up of the same atoms from the same star that are present in your hip." He firmly placed his hand on Sherlock's hip and moved it back and forth across it. "Perhaps that's why I am so madly attracted to you, just some of my atoms trying to join up with some of yours. You know, like they are longing to connect again." He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Sherlock's. "We were meant to be together. It was written in the stars."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You have no proof for that supposition."

"I don't need proof. It's what I believe."

"You have no proof for your beliefs."

"That isn't the point of belief, Sherlock," John said mildly. "It's internal and immeasurable."

Sherlock simply nodded, knowing he wouldn't win this particular argument. He had mellowed somewhat in the area of John's quasi-religious beliefs.

He looked back up at the sky, his thumb rubbing the back of John's hand, the warmth from that hand seeping into his hip.

"You know they are dead," he said pragmatically.

John, nonplussed, was actually momentarily tempted to glance around, looking for hidden bodies upon the hill. He shook his head, "Who?"

Sherlock sighed, "Not who, John," he chided softly, not concerned in the least that John failed to follow his thoughts. He waved his hand toward the sky. "The stars. They are dead, they exploded and died billions of years before we were born."

John quirked a smile and stared into his eyes, as equally a pleasant piece of anatomy as his lips. "Well. They may have died billions of years ago but they still live within us today."

Sherlock looked back up at the sky. "When I was…away there was a night, in Afghanistan, when I stood looking at the stars and I was reminded of the time we were searching for the Golem. I had mentioned how beautiful the stars were. You were surprised that I would notice them. This one night I could hear you in my head and I could see the stars as you would see them. They were beautiful as they are beautiful now. It filled me with a sense of wonder and hope. A sense of being filled with…something. It helped me complete the task and come home to you that much sooner." He squeezed John's hand, acknowledged what they both knew, how hard it was for John to talk about that time, for even now it caused an uneasy sensation in his chest, a feeling of loneliness that would never entirely be erased, a shudder of a cold finger down his back as if Sherlock were tempting fate every time he said it, as if death knew he'd escaped and would return for him someday. John shook his head to clear the fancies for the moment.

"So I guess you are not far off, John. We are connected, something I am sure you have realized for years and now is just dawning on me. When it comes to matters of the heart I am, ever, your pupil." He smiled his heartbreaking smile at his partner, the one reserved just for him. John brushed the loose curls out of Sherlock's eyes, once dark now gradually turning white.

"John," Sherlock's voice held a hint of nervousness, finally coming to the crux of the problem, "The reason I am asking you this, the reason why I want to know why you love me is I'm thinking about retiring."

John sat up a little. "Really?' he asked attempting to keep his voice neutral, not wanting to panic the other man. But Sherlock heard the tremor of hope present in John's inquiry.

And Sherlock smiled, a smile full of relief. "You'd be okay with that?"

John laughed, a boyish laugh, one that turned back time for a moment, "Okay with it? God yes! I thought you'd never retire. And I'd be back to hobbling after you with a cane. Please tell me you are serious?"

Sherlock looked faintly bemused at John's enthusiastic response. "But won't you miss the rush of adrenalin?"

John's laugh deepened, "Not at my age! Sherlock, I want to spend time with you, do things with you and," he deepened his voice and made his eyebrows wiggle up and down in what was apparently suppose to be a lascivious manner, "do things to you." He turned serious again for a moment, "I want to grow old with you and I think if we continue our lifestyle on the streets of London, that may not happen. I want to have time with you and not miss out on opportunities. I don't want regrets. I came close to losing you once more when that lunatic tried to beat you to death. I don't think I can live through that anymore. I want us to have time together."

"I was worried you wouldn't want to stay with me if I didn't continue to provide you with excitement."

John felt as if his heart would burst out of his chest. "I love you, you idiot because you are you and because you give me enough excitement just by touching me and looking at me and loving me. As much as you may wish to deny it, I know you do love me. Who would ever believe you could convince anyone you were a sociopath." John rolled over until he was lying across Sherlock, mindful of his knee. He linked his fingers into the thick curls and pressed down upon Sherlock's mouth, telling him, showing him, without words how much he loved him, how much he wanted to be with him. He broke free after a few minutes, and said in a voice gone slightly husky with desire, "I know for a fact that the cottage where we are staying is for sale. The couple we rented from mentioned it when I talked with them."

Sherlock lifted a still graceful eyebrow. "This is an ideal location."

John quirked his head to the side, "Ideal for what?'

"Keeping bees." He paused. "And star gazing." His smile returned full-blown.

John chuckled and leaned back down to Sherlock's mouth, prepared to capture it back in his. Before he did he whispered, "I don't think we are going to watch too many more stars tonight, do you?"

"I think we will be sore and stiff in the morning if we stay all night."

"I'll make it worth your while," John grinned. "How does that sound?"

Sherlock answered by lifting his head and meeting John half way.

The night slipped by with no one, but the stars, the wiser.

A/N: First of all I am so delighted with the response this story has received. I have never had so many reviews for a story. I am so happy! This one has a lot of me written into it and is very personal, so it fills my heart that you love it as well.

There is one more chapter. A finale, but it is a true finale for the characters in this. I wanted to come full circle when I set out to write this. I understand that that type of ending isn't for everyone, so if you wish to stop here, I will understand. It is my hope that you will continue to the end because it is connected, but in case you don't I am going to thank all who have favoured, followed and reviewed at this time. I will add anyone new to the next chapter. Please forgive me if I missed anyone or if I messed up your name!

Ennui Enigma, johnsarmylady, patemalah21,thedragonaunt, junejuly15, mrspencil, TheGameMrsHudsonIsAfoot, SassyVeeDub, SniperKingSogeKing0341, DuShuZhi, hjohn302, Old Ping Hai, ThisDayWillPass, star-chan89, metaphore519, Burnedoutpixels, damson1, Purple Roses and Stormy Nights, Moriarty is King, Imutaski, faultierqueen, arelando. Artimis Fairy, AmeliaGarrett, emmet the pimp, Lunar-Sol-42, sick-athxxheart, Joyfull Scroll, beargirl1393, awelch, richardfeynman, Gracie Emz. Ryogun, Dirty Pony Trick, Rue Dumaine, InterestingName, Porkii, emeralds, Tomy-chan22, moonstones42, Miia90, A.F. Wolfslinx, AllyxG, subtleintuition, Stormy Grey Skies, annamore, 4 pips, kikoanna, geekygirlmk325, brightlydull, anthonybri16, ihavenoface, MidnightRhymer, darknesslove124, Jennamatic3000, RagnhildK, R. Harper, Raidermae, JR Granger

There are lots of other people out there who have followed or favourited me as an author. I thank you all as well – it's difficult to know sometimes why you have done so whether for this work or for others, but I treasure each and every one of you for taking the time to read my story!