Hi guys sorry I haven't updated for a few days but it was my birthday yesterday so I spent my week planning the party, leaving no time for writing! Anyway, here you go, please review! Reviewers get to join the awesome party that is my list of reviews, and if I really like a review I might mention you in the next chapter! Love you all!

[John]

Even after the hours of work we had put into making the flat liveable again, it still didn't feel cosy or anything like it had been three years ago. The dust had disappeared and the boxes had been unpacked, but the place still had the musty and slightly dreary atmosphere of somewhere abandoned. It wasn't as though I'd expected everything to automatically return to normal after my decision to remain with Sherlock, but I had never imagined how drastically changed my life would still be.

I put the kettle on to attempt an air of normality, but I had no choice other than to admit defeat when it wouldn't even turn on. I would have done anything for a biscuit right then, but I was to be disappointed as I soon realised there was absolutely nothing edible anywhere in the flat. I mentally kicked myself once I remembered that no one had been living there for nearly three years, and I growled in frustration since it meant either I or Sherlock would have to go shopping soon. The problem was that Sherlock would undoubtedly put up a fuss and object to even going inside a supermarket, and there wasn't any certainty that he would actually return with food. It wasn't as if I could go, though. People would recognise me more than Sherlock, and definitely not in a good way. We would either have to go without food for a while and probably suffer a painful hunger-related death, or we could enlist the help of Mycroft, who I was certain would be more than willing to cooperate provided I agreed to his job offer. The thought made me shudder, but it wasn't as if I had another choice.

I returned to the comfort of the sitting room muttering halfheartedly about what a manipulative ass Mycroft was. Sherlock appeared to have found his violin and was making the occasional sound over by the window while deep in thought. I sat heavily on the chair that used to be mine, and began to regret such a rash decision when a cloud of dust rose up to envelop me, prompting a lot of coughing and a sneezing fit. My flatmate (how good it felt to call him that again) appeared to take no notice, though I could have sworn he cracked a smile at my foolishness. He began to play what I guessed was one of his own compositions, and I relaxed back into my seat to listen. He was quite obviously only playing to put me at ease, but it was working so I was not going to object. I felt my eyelids begin to shut and did not try to prevent such an action, knowing that I really needed a few hours of sleep before I would even be able to begin to figure out, well, everything.

Sherlock's sudden halt jerked me back into consciousness, and as my foggy brain attempted to figure out what was going wrong I heard multiple footsteps coming up the stairs. There were a couple of muffled shouts that I couldn't quite make out, which only increased my anxiety, and then one voice I could hear very clearly which left me in a state of blind panic.

"Sherlock, John, we know you're in there," a very familiar man said, and I stood up and pulled a face at Sherlock, unsure what to do. "I'm going to give you four seconds to open this door, or we're going to break it down, you hear me?" I was still frozen, completely uncertain what the correct reaction would be, but thankfully I had Sherlock. He leapt forward and fluidly opened the door, stepping back to allow the group inside.

Lestrade came first closely followed by Donovan, and the way she glared hatefully at me let me know that all had definitely not been forgiven. Sherlock retreated to stand by my side, and put his hands up in a non-threatening gesture which I mirrored. The officers seemed to relax, but Lestrade still looked very weary and not at all happy with the situation.

"You're under arrest Dr Watson, for the murder of Mrs Hudson, and many others, along with the attempted murders of Sargent Donovan and Mycroft Holmes, and many other crimes. You have the right to remain silent, and anything you say or do will be held against you in court." Donovan chose that moment to produce a pair of handcuffs and stepped forward, ready to wrap them around my wrists. However, Sherlock intervened before she had the chance.

"Lestrade, John was not well at the time of those occurrences. He is doing much better now that he is in my care, and taking him away would almost certainly damage all the progress we've made so far." Lestrade didn't even bother to look annoyed with him.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock, but what John did was very wrong, and according to the law I have to take him to prison, whether or not he did it knowingly. The best we can hope for is that he's declared mentally unstable in court. I'm sorry." Sally stepped forward again and this time attached the cuffs to my wrists, much to my displeasure. I shot my friend a scared look, and he turned desperately to plead with Lestrade again.

"Look, my brother has already told us that if John runs some errands for him that his record will be wiped, so there is no reason-" Sally interrupted Sherlock mid-explanation to let out a sound of outrage at the prospect.

"That's bloody ridiculous!" She shouted, glaring at both me and Sherlock with equal looks of fury. "Just because his brother's all high and mighty Mr British Government, doesn't mean that anyone should be able to get away with murder, let alone this bastard!" She continued, gesturing at me.

Lestrade looked a bit confused as to what to do for a few seconds, but eventually shook his head as though the action would clear it. "I'm still going to have to take you to the Yard, John." He said, finally turning to look me in the eye for the first time since entering the room. I felt my stomach drop, but kept on a brave face and nodded cooperatively, ignoring Sherlock's sounds of annoyance.

Sally began to drag me towards the door and I turned to give Sherlock one last half smile before they took me away. I wanted to thank him for the last couple of days, for all he'd wanted to do to help me, but I just thought it would be awkward with the police standing so close.

"No..." I saw him whisper, and I desperately wanted to reply with something partially uplifting, but nothing came to mind soon enough, and the door slammed behind me creating a literal and figurative barrier between us that I was certain would never be removed.