In the three years, John had never had so many people in his flat at once. Seven figures were occupying available chairs in his flat: Ines sat on John's chair with Kathy in her lap; Johnson, Wiggins and Daniel were sat on the large couch on the other side; and Tom and Mrs Hudson took the two seats at the dining table. All of them were waiting for the kettle to boil as John was moving around in the kitchen.

It was getting towards December and there were already signs of snow coming towards London; god knows- John thought- how children could survive in weather like that, considering they've been homeless for more than three years. It saddened John to think of reasons why their parents could ever leave them behind without anyone; maybe that's why he pitied Kathy the most.

When the kettle finally boiled, he chucked teabags into a teapot and filled it up with water; then moving it into the living room coffee table along with sugar and milk on a tray. Quickly, he moved back into the kitchen and fetched enough mugs for everyone and brought them to the table. As he moved out of the way Tom, Daniel and Kathy were the first ones to reach for the teapot; followed by the rest. John moved aside for them and stood behind Mrs Hudson; resting his back on the window; tensing when the cold glass came into contact with his neck.

"Sorry if we're being rude," said Daniel, who gulped down a mouthful of tea, "It's just, you know-"

"Yeah, yeah I get it," he said. Reaching his hand to Mrs Hudson, he tapped her lightly on the shoulder so she would turn around, "I'm sorry Mrs Hudson. I had no idea Martha was your real name."

"And neither did Sherlock to tell you the truth."

"Can I just ask though, how long have they been coming to the flat? I mean I should have heard them come in as I did today."

"Two months after you moved in. Usually, they would ask me to bring what they need to them outside. They wait near the bins you see, so I would meet them there. They wouldn't come into the flat unless it was important. They were worried about Kathy and didn't know what to do-"

"Do you have any biscuits?" asked Tom, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

"Shut up Tom, stop being rude!" hissed Ines.

"No, no it's fine. I think there are some digestives in the cupboard next to the fridge." answered John. Tom jumped up from his seat and jogged towards the cupboard and seared for them, while receiving disapproval looks from Ines and Johnson. However, Tom managed to brush his hand over something and he froze still, "Found it yet? I'm sure they're there."

"I-" His words seemed to be lost as he looked at the rest of the group in horror, "I think I found a-" He looked back into the cupboard to reach for the object he found, which just happened to be the skull that used to reside above the fireplace, "What. The hell is this?!"

"Is that a skull?" asked Wiggins, who got up and joined Tom's side to continue looking for the biscuits.

"It was a friend of Sherlock's. Well, he says friend. Have you found them Wiggins?" he called out. After seconds, Wiggins held up a packed of digestives in the air and brought them back into living room, "Stop staring at that skull and put it back in the cupboard-"

"Not just yet. Bring it over here." asked John, holding his hand up. At first, Tom looked against the idea of holding the skull for any longer and intended to put it back, but thought about whose house he was in, so closed the cupboard and walked over to John to place the skull in his hands, "I used to hide many things under this skull. Cigarettes, nicotine patches, his phone whenever I got irritated with him, you name it."

Setting his mug aside, he got up and walked over to the fireplace while dodging Kathy and Ines who were now sat at the floor with their tea. Brushing the dust off the mantle, he placed the skull back where it originally was before he moved it into the kitchen cupboard. Many good memories flooded back to him that was to do with Sherlock: where he would talk to it as if it were a person or when he would hide it to scare off Anderson during a 'drugs bust'.

"So what happens now?" asked Kathy, who tugged on John's trousers to get his attention, "I don't want to be ill and you said that I need to sleep in a bed. And I don't have a bed like most girls my age have."

John looked over at Mrs Hudson, "Any ideas? I mean she could stay here until she gets better."

"Nope, not possible. Sorry, we can't do that." said Ines as she reached a protective arm over Kathy and pulled her close.

"Why not Ines dear?" asked Mrs Hudson, "Poor Kathy needs to get better, and if John suggests that she stays in a proper bed, then maybe that's what should happen. As they say: it's the doctor's orders."

For a moment Ines stayed quiet and thought over the idea in her head while holding onto Kathy tighter. Then she looked over to Wiggins and stared up at him in desperation, "I don't know. You would know Wiggins. Do you think it would be a good idea?"

"I mean, if that's what Mr Watson says then maybe we should listen to him. Like Martha said, he is a doctor after all, so he should know best." he said, pouring more tea and milk into his mug, "But it's not up to me to decide. It's Kathy's and whoever is going to look after her's choice." Picking up a digestive, he handed it over to Kathy who took it willingly, "Kat, do you want to stay here until you get better." She nodded. "Okay then, which one of you is going to watch her then?"

John and Mrs Hudson looked at each other as if they were having a conversation though staring, "I have a spare room." said John who still looked at Mrs Hudson, "And you don't. She could stay in my room while I stay in...Sherlock's."

"But John-"

"Mrs Hudson, I am perfectly capable of sleeping in Sherlock's room for a couple of nights," he said, then whispering to himself, "It's not like I haven't done it before." He remembered back to the nights he slept in Sherlock's bed after what happened; luckily nobody heard him say this.

"Are you okay with that Kat?" asked Wiggins, "Staying with John for a couple of nights, you don't mind, do you?"

"No. It'll be fun. I've never been up here you know." she said, looking around the living room, "It's very warm in here sir. I like it. I can't remember the last time I had tea."

"You haven't." said Tom, who fished into the packet of biscuits for another, "You're not allowed it when you're really young."

"Well I like tea now." she said, gripping the cup tighter for extra warmth. Until suddenly she put the mug back onto the table and held her arms around her stomach to say she was in pain, "I don't feel well Ines. I think it was the tea, but it can't be. It's happened before."

"I think that's a symptom of your sickness?" asked Ines to John, who nodded at her question, "Maybe we should put you into bed now, would that be a good idea Mr Watson?

"It's wise." he said, making a move towards the door. Ines got up off the floor; brushed herself down and picked up Kathy in her arms to follow John to his room. Wiggins followed behind them; leaving Daniel, Tom and Johnson with Mrs Hudson.

Once all four reached John's bedroom, Ines saw the bed and didn't resist putting Kathy down as all three stared down at the drowsy child lying down on the bed, "Do you think she'll be okay?"

"After a couple of days she'll be okay. Maybe a week or two. It's hard to know with weather like this. While she's here, she should stay in bed. You can visit whenever you have the time." he said, checking her temperature again with the back of his hand on her forehead.

Wiggins and John looked at her for one more moment before walking back onto the landing. As Wiggins walked down the stairs, John moved towards the door and looked at Ines; it was obvious that she wanted more time to stay with her so he gave them peace and quiet by closing the door for them and made a move to follow the other down the stairs.

Inside the room, Ines was looking down at Kathy and how horribly different she looked when she was this ill. There were times when she had been ill just like this, but for some reason this moment had a deeper effect on her than past ones. The way Kathy's small body was curled up into a ball as she shivered in her sleep; it was obvious that she wasn't in comfort, but there was nothing she could do.

For one last moment, she sat on the side of the bed and bent her head down to kiss Kathy's hair gently before pulling away and looking at her for one more moment. Hopefully- she thought- John was right about what he said, that she would get better. But still, Ines could only think the worst whenever somebody close to her was in a state like this. She had experience of this in the past- where someone close to her was in a state like this- which made her more frightened of Kathy's health, and whether she would pull though hard enough to get better as soon as possible.

After hours of following him, they both had finally reached a spot where nobody could see them; they could only see each other as they both stared at one another while they each held a gun in their hands, both pointing at the other. Both were standing in the night's darkness on a tall buildings rooftop, which looked very familiar to past events. The taller they were above the ground made it harder for them to stand without shivering from the coldness, but that was forgotten when a gun provided a distraction.

There had been complications during the process. Instead of hunting the man down like he promised himself days ago, this whole ordeal was postponed for a couple of days until tonight where he was finally given the chance.

One had short black hair which blended in with the darkness and wore dark denim jeans with a tattered brown shirt and green coat while the other was a rather built man with a bold head which was covered with a cap. Comparing how each of them were built, the other man could easily tackle the black haired man to the ground, but he wasn't going to let that happen easily.

"So you've been the one that's executing my acquaintances like dogs?" said one, who was backing further towards the edge, "They told me about a man who's been travelling across the globe in search of us, of all of us. To be honest, I wasn't expecting you Mr Holmes."

Sherlock edged closer towards the other man and aimed his gun directly at the other's head; the other copied his moves; he hasn't yet talked to the man, but there was no need to. There was no time to waste around talking and tormenting when this can be done as soon as possible. There was a perfect moment, but for some reason Sherlock didn't take it yet.

"Isn't this ironic? You'll die in the same place that you said your final goodbye to John Watson: on a rooftop." The mentioning of John made Sherlock grip the gun tighter and move closer towards the man, "You do know that if you kill me you haven't even finished yet. Sebastian can be quite hard to find, let alone to kill. How do you think you'll actually kill him?"

"The same way I'm about to kill you and the rest of those that I've killed. I only need one bullet, like I did with the others. No messing around." Finally, Sherlock stopped walking towards the person and just focused on aiming his gun at them; breathing in and out along with his slow heartbeat, like he had done many times before.

"What makes you think that you'll be the one walking away from this alive?" he asked, "I'm a trained hit man. A good one to be exact, good enough to be hired by Moriarty. I'm not going to lose control of this situation now. Not now, when instead I could be the one to kill you, which even Moriarty couldn't even do."

"Says the one who's standing on the edge."

"Very funny." he said. Looking down at the streets below, the hit man thought of the possible escape routes before looking back at Sherlock, "I remember that day, you know. I wasn't there when you 'fell', but I was watching somebody who's rather close to you. She was very kind to me, offering me tea and all that. But that wasn't going to stop me putting a bullet through her head. I was hired especially to kill her-" Immediately Sherlock recognised who he was talking about: Mrs Hudson, "I was rather pissed off that you jumped, you see I take good joy with every hit I make. If you didn't jump, I would have savoured that moment where I would hold the gun to the back of her skull and-"

There was no reason for Sherlock to hear any of this-he thought- and didn't feel like he should waste time in hearing the man's sick story of how he would kill somebody close to him. That's why he didn't hesitate when he pulled the trigger and shot the built man directly between his eyes; he shot at the man again and again until the lifeless body fell back and started to fall towards the ground.

At that moment, Sherlock didn't care if there were any people passing by- as he walked to the edge of the rooftop- but Mycroft certainly would. Luckily, he chased the man to a quiet spot on the outskirts of Nanterre in Paris; it was so quiet that there was nobody in sight to see the man hit the pavement; his limbs angled in odd ways as his body was illuminated on one side from a street lamp. Even if there was nobody to see, people would have still heard the noise of the gunshot and would come out of their houses to investigate.

Without hesitation, he put the gun back into his coat pocket and made his way back towards the roof doors and made his exit down the stairs. If-three years ago- you would ask Sherlock if he would ever kill somebody for revenge, he would say that wasn't the way he worked. But those three years have changed the way he thought, the man he had just killed was-in a way- to get back at what would have done to Mrs Hudson, just as he killed the other man who was going to kill Lestrade.

However there was still somebody left. One more person was still alive who was going to kill John: Sebastian Moran. The one person that stood between him and returning home. It was true what the man said, Moran will be a lot more difficult to find, but at least Sherlock knew his whereabouts: London. The place where it all started. Mycroft called him hours before and told him one of his private planes was ready to take him straight to London where he would search for Moran and finally end all of this.

Part of him was rather eager to find Moran so that all of this could be finished, but then he began to worry, as an idea occurred to him which he hadn't considered: why was Moran in London in the first place?

Author's Note: Yay, Sherlock's coming home! Well...not just yet. Since I started on a new story, I have four stories to update in a weekend, which makes it harder for me to conjure up any ideas and stuff, but bear with me. I hope you enjoyed reading this update and thank you for following :)