[Sherlock]

"Okay."

Well, I had certainly not expected John to agree so readily. Then again, I had made an incredibly good argument, and I was not about to complain about his sudden compliance. I allowed my eyes to light up in glee, and John half returned my smile, though he still looked unsure as to whether he had made the right decision.

I was pleased that he had finally accepted my help, but it was still going to affect our lives considerably. Too many people knew about John's murderous tendencies, and certainly would not accept him considering what he'd done in my absence. Hopefully Mycroft would be able to help clear his name partway, however it would be impossible to bring back the easy relationship John had had with those he knew. Scars would be left permanently, and the wariness of former friends could be diminished, but never completely destroyed. Still, we would be able to live in a way very similar to that before my fall, and I didn't need other friends so long as I had John. We would be fine.

Footsteps and shouts sounded out from the floor above us, and I rolled my eyes as I realised my brother had finally made an appearance. I turned to face John and found him biting his lip nervously. I felt it was an improvement over trying to kill Mycroft, at least. The man in question chose that moment to make his way lazily down the stairs, swinging his umbrella and whistling a tune quietly, all the while scoping out the sights in front of him and mentally preparing for possible conflicts. I was still leaning on John, but I attempted to straighten myself in order to appear less vulnerable than I was feeling. My brother certainly didn't show any wariness about seeing me with John, but then again it was impossible to tell what he was thinking unless he wanted to let you know. Even then, he could only be showing you what he wanted you to see.

"Brother," he greeted me, and I nodded rather than let him hear my slurred words. He turned to John, who was looking more anxious by the second. I couldn't say I blamed him.

"You seem a lot more stable, Doctor Watson. I suspect it was you who organised this little stint to help retrieve my brother? Rather impressive, if I do say so myself." Mycroft continued to watch John for any sign of aggression, but after finding none, he smiled in my direction as though to congratulate me on John's apparent recovery. I didn't return the smile, but I didn't glare at him either, which was the nicest thing I could have done in the situation. However, I soon became alert as I recognised a look that my brother was now giving John. It wasn't hard to guess what he wanted.

"I'm sure you'll be happy to know I'm not going to press charges, and I will not demand your immediate arrest considering I find that your recovery will go that much more smoothly around my brother rather than a large number of psychiatrists." Here it came. John also seemed to realise something was going on and stiffened. "However, I feel that my generosity would be best repaid in the form of your services where I require them." I growled at Mycroft but he continued, either not hearing me, or, more likely, deciding to ignore me completely.

"What you did here, completely by yourself, it seems, was truly remarkable. I doubt even one of my best trained employees could match such a feat, and I have a very great need of people with such a particular set of skills. Don't worry, I will let you settle back into your life with Sherlock before I come calling, but I will almost certainly need your help soon. Good day to you both." With that, he turned and left the room, apparently not needing an answer. It was obvious what John would choose by the look on his face. There was defeat there, but a slight look of relief that the situation was not more severe.

"Well, that could have gone worse." I noticed the small smile on his lips and smirked in agreement. John began to walk towards the stairs and I leaned on him to keep myself upright as we made our way slowly out of the building.

Outside, there was not a soul since Mycroft and his team had already left, but we both knew Lestrade and the Yard officers would soon arrive. I didn't know how they would react to John's presence, and he apparently didn't want to find out. I wondered about getting a taxi, but a black car soon rolled up from its position in the shadowy alley next door and stopped in front of us. After a quick inspection I decided I was 98.64% sure that it was one Mycroft had left for us to return to Baker Street, and I quickly shared my suspicions with John.

"Do you need to go and get anything?" I asked once we were seated, and I felt fairly pleased when he shook his head. No ties to his other life, then.

"I need to call my, uh... Work... To, uh... Let them know that I no longer require my employees', uh, services..." He seemed rather hesitant to refer to anything regarding his criminal network, and I wasn't sure if it was a good sign or a bad one.

I told him not to worry, and stared out the window at passing traffic as he made the call and arrangements. I wasn't surprised that he immediately passed the management on to his second in command, though I couldn't reject the idea that I was disappointed in him. Some small part of me must have hoped that he would disband his network, but it didn't look as though this was the case. Needless to say, the person on the other end of the phone did not sound very happy with John's resignation, and a lot more profanity was used in the single conversation than I thought possible.

As he finally ended the call, John sighed, but it seemed to be more in relief than regret. I gave him my best encouraging smile, but since I had never attempted one before it was impossible to tell how effective it was. John didn't laugh at me, so I could safely presume it wasn't a complete disaster.

Soon after that we pulled up outside 221B. I had to wait for John to come round and help me out as the drug was still affecting my balance, but I didn't mind. His presence was enough to help me find the drive to make it to the stairs and enter, even though it must have been hard for him. The hallway had Mrs Hudson written all over it, and for a few moments I was sure it was me holding John up and not the other way around. I pretended to ignore the tears I saw in his eyes, and apparently he did too, as he quickly wiped his face and determinedly continued up the stairs to our old flat.

Walking in was eerie, as while it was obviously our flat, at the same time it wasn't. There was dust covering every surface, and boxes filled presumably with my belongings were littered about. It was painfully obvious that John had not returned here after my death other than to collect a few necessities, leaving Mrs Hudson to pack away everything that would not be used again. She must have given up half way through, as there were many stray items still out on the desk and shelves, and without use they had become grey from the collection of dust.

I managed to make it to the desk without help from John, who was still frozen in place no doubt due to an onslaught of painful memories. Once there I picked up my old magnifying glass and carefully wiped it until it was free from grime. I cradled it gently in my hands and stared at it, considering all the wonderful times John and I could have had if Moriarty had not become involved in our lives. It was the first time I had properly allowed myself to consider such things since my demise, and to say that it didn't upset me would have been a lie.

I heard footsteps as John broke from his trance and came over to stand beside me. "There's a lot of work to do," he said, and I couldn't help but notice the slight tremor in his voice.

"Most certainly," I agreed, still distracted by the object in my hands. I finally turned away from it to look at him and gave him my trademark smirk.

"Let's get to it," I said.

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