Well, it's sad to announce; but all stories end. It's the last chapter to this story; to be followed by a short epilogue. Thank you all so very very much for reading this, and following me and the story. I'm really astonished by the amount of responses I received! Perhaps I'll make another story like this, ideas enough. Keep an eye out!
This particular chapter is dedicated to all my faithful reviewers: Azlira, BigBangWiz, Feyfangirl and all the others (sorry if I forgot your name! Don't make me into shoes now…!)
But especially I wanted to thank SherlockedUntilDeath for hating JohnLock and forcing me to reconsider the storyline! Thank you! Hopefully you've enjoyed this chapter!
"John, I need food and I need it now," Sherlock complained as he opened the door of 221B. "I don't care if you want some, but I am starving." He climbed the stairs up to the living room, followed by John. They shrugged of their soaked clothes and John announced: "I am going to take a shower. You order anything, I'm not hungry."
"… says the doctor," Sherlock mocked, picking up the phone to order Thai. "What do you always say: 'for god's sake you need to eat', isn't that is?"
"Shut up. I don't need food, I need a smoke."
"No!" Sherlock shouted suddenly with wide eyes, startling John.
"Wow! Man, I need a smoke!" John protested loudly.
"Here," Sherlock said, throwing John a little box. "Use these. I haven't smoked in years-"
"- last week -" John interrupted.
"- and you're not going to restart that," Sherlock continued.
John fished out a nicotine patch, and stuck it to his skin, and he fished out another, until there were three on his forearm. Sherlock watched but didn't say anything.
"Sherlock?"
"Hmm?"
"Would care to take the time to explain to me what happened there? Just 'cause I'm not getting it actually."
Sherlock sighed and looked smiling at his friend. "They mixed you and me up with our beloved government and DI."
"Did they want us to be a couple?"
Sherlock nodded.
John sniggered. "That's ridiculous."
Sherlock lifted an eyebrow. "Is it?"
John looked at his friend incredulously. "Yes, Sherlock. It is."
Sherlock only grinned.
John sighed. "Okay, so, honestly... we have been locked in each other's body, only because that White Lilly–gangthing mixed up their files?"
Sherlock nodded. John grunted and buried his head in his hands. "That's utterly ridiculous! Anyway… we're not meant to be together. Hopefully people will stop talking."
"Of course we're not meant to be together," Sherlock stated matter-of-factly, causing John to look very surprised. "Well," Sherlock elaborated, "me and Irene are 'together' as you put it so eloquently. We have been for quite a while really."
John gaped. "Oh, congrats," he said, smiling broadly, slightly sheepishly.
"Thank you," Sherlock said coolly as always. He continued immediately with "do we have jam in here?" while opening all various cupboards. John nodded and took out the jar half-filled with red from the fridge, handing it to Sherlock. "Enjoy," he winked before disappearing in the bath room.
Sherlock dipped his finger in the jar and licked it, eyes closed. Lovely.
Some minutes later the doorbell rang and Sherlock walked downstairs to open the door. He handed the delivery boy a tenner and closed the door, dipping his nose in the paper bag, sniffing deeply. His stomach responded by growling very loudly. Sherlock grinned and walked back upstairs.
John ruffled his wet curly hair with a towel and looked at his friend who ate straight from the bag. "That hungry, are you?" he asked, smiling. Sherlock nodded.
"You need to get out of those wet clothes, Sherlock. What if you catch pneumonia?"
Sherlock shrugged.
"Well, Sherlock... that would be me then eh? So you leave the food and take a nice, warm shower to warm up. I'll put these in the micro for you to keep it warm. Off you pop!"
Sherlock obeyed, groaning with displeasure and pain?
"You okay, Sherlock?" his friend asked, noticing the little whimper.
"Yeah, fine. Just twisted my ankle I think."
John sat down in his chair and closed his eyes. He was thoroughly tired and bored. Wow, that was a new feeling. He turned on the telly to watch the news, but before Sherlock emerged from the shower, he was already sound asleep.
Sherlock wasn't tired; the running around in the rain after a Chinese had certainly been exciting, and now he was sore everywhere, but he wasn't tired. He entered the living room and saw his friend asleep in his chair. Well, a short nap wouldn't hurt, would it? The cosyness of the place (a lit fire and a snoring blogger in a chair was considered cozy by the world's most famous detective) Sherlock turned off the telly and lay down on the sofa, closed his eyes and drifted off in his mind-palace.
The two men slept peacefully until Mrs. Hudson thought it was time to wake them up. "Ooh-ooh," she smiled, knocking softly. The men sleepily looked at each other and both gulped, suddenly awake. Sherlock sat in John's chair, looking at his short friend who lay on the sofa. Sherlock's bony hand immediately flew towards his head and ruffled his curls, letting out a sigh of contentment. John smiled and got to his feet. "Shall I help you, Mrs. Hudson?"
He walked with her towards the kitchen, and helped her to make tea. "Sherlock, do you want some too?" he yelled at his flatmate, but when he didn't receive a respond he looked at the living room. It was empty and Sherlock's coat was gone. John smiled. One guess as to where the detective had run off to.
"Hello, Mr Holmes," Irene greeted the detective. She lay on the soft pillows in the middle of the warehouse. Sherlock entered the room slowly, scanning the whole area before he fixed his eyes on his lover. He smiled a little when she got to her feet and walked towards him. When they were just a breath apart, she laid her hands on his chest, looking up at the tall man.
"I can see you've sorted it all out with the fortune cookies and John and the White Lilly?"
Sherlock cocked an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Instead he took her hands softly in his and removed them from his chest, his eyes still locked in hers.
He wrapped his fingers around her wrists and smiled. "I love to feel your heartbeat speeding up, all because of me."
"Is it racing again?"
"Yes it is, Miss Adler.'
"Oh, come here!" She took his hand in hers and led him towards the soft pillows on the ground. Putting her hands on his shoulder she pushed him down, and soon followed herself. She snuggled beside him and found Sherlock wrapping his arm around her.
Irene looked up at his face and stared at his face. Sherlock was relaxed and so beautiful.
He looked down at her and she saw his eyes soften on the slightest; she knew it was just for her.
"Did you, uhm," she cleared her throat, "did you tell John?"
Sherlock nodded. "He took it really well, considered you were supposed to be dead and I'm supposed to be an asexual sociopath."
"Oh, come here you!" and Irene grabbed the lapels of his coat and pulled him close, locking his lips with hers.
In a completely different part of town, John leaped out of a cab. He had been alone in 221B, and he had started thinking and come to a conclusion. And to live up to that conclusion, he needed to go out.
He climbed the stairs swiftly and glanced at his watch. It was late, almost midnight. He just hoped she would be there.
He rang the doorbell and waited impatiently, tapping his foot on the ground nervously. Finally the door swung open, revealing the small blonde girl, hair a mess and bare-feet. John smiled his cutest smile and said: "hi, Molly. I hope I… uhm… didn't wake you?"
"Well, you did, actually," Molly answered, already suspecting the reason for this nightly visit.
"Where's Sherlock? Does he need a body or something? Weird, normally he texts..." Molly murmured, opening the door a little wider and motioning the blogger to enter her small apartment.
John coughed softly and looked at the girl. "No, Sherlock doesn't need anything."
"Oh," came Molly's answer. "Would you like some tea or coffee?"
"Yes, fine. That would be, erm, great!"
"Okay." Molly headed for the place John thought to be the kitchen and sat down, scanning the living room. It was obviously a girl's house, but not as girlish as he had expected it to be.
Sometime later Molly entered, two cups of tea in her hands. She handed one to John and sat down in the opposite chair.
"Well, what are you doing here then?"
John put down his tea and looked at the pretty pathologist. "Molls, you have to believe me when I tell all I'm going to tell you has really happened…"
Molly nodded and John started to tell.
"Oh my…" Molly breathed. "That sounds ridiculous."
"I know," John agreed.
"So, you were Sherlock and Sherlock were you. Oh no…" Molly's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, John! I kissed...-"
"- me, yes."
"I'm sorry!"
"No, don't be, Molly," John said seriously. "Don't be. I.. I liked it! So now I was wondering… would you like to go out and have some coffee with me?"
Molly just nodded, a light blush creeping over her cheeks.
"Great!" John beamed, grinning from ear to ear. "Will tomorrow do? I'll pick you up after your shift has ended, if that's okay with you of course!"
Molly smiled and stared at the kind man she had never really paid attention to, but she realised he was far more reliable and kind and thoughtful than a certain consulting detective. If she looked hard, she could even consider him handsome and… gosh, yes, he was!
John finished his tea and stood. "Well, thank you, Moll. Better go, you need your sleep."
"Yes, erm… it was nice," Molly said, biting her lip.
They walked towards the front door, and with the doorknob in his hand John turned to face Molly for the last time that day. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"
Molly nodded vigorously, but her breath stuck in her throat when John leaned down, his eyes lingering on her lips. She tilted her head to meet his and when their mouths touched it was just a chaste kiss. But, all things considered, it was a chaste kiss that sent shivers up to two separate spines. He walked outside without looking back and hailed a cab to return to Baker Street.
When he returned home, Sherlock hadn't returned. And when John woke up the next morning, Sherlock still wasn't home. John grinned. He knew exactly where Sherlock was. Who would have thought?
As I said before: thanks for following! Did you enjoy this last chapter or should I change some stuff?