Sherlock and John walked in silence for what felt like hours, simply holding hands and relishing in the confirmation of the other's presence. As darkness fell they hailed a cab, heading to Baker Street without a single word spoken between them. It wasn't until they reached the door that Sherlock broke the silence.

"You know, we could just head over to Angelo's and grab a bite, just the two of us." John glanced up, mildly startled by the statement.

"Hmm? No, no. Mrs. Hudson went to all that trouble taking us to that restaurant." He pulled out his keys and unlocked the door, pushing it open slowly. "The least we can do is wait for her to get back and eat the leftovers with her."

"How very kind of you to think of that John." Both men's head whipped forward to see Mrs hudson standing in her doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. "The table's set if you two would kindly wash up, I'll get the food warmed up for you."

Both men nodded, following their landlady into her flat. They both turned halfway down the hall, each attempting to squeeze into the cramped bathroom. "Budge over Sherlock, the sink's big enough for two of us."

Sherlock snorted derisively, shuffling over, his legs bumping against the toilet while John bent awkwardly over the counter to reach the sink. The detective rolled his eyes, glance up and glaring at his blogger. "This would be infinitely more efficient if we took turns."

John nodded, but bumped his shoulder into Sherlock's despite himself. "I don't see you attempting to leave."

The detective rinsed the soap from his hands and shook them, sending droplets of water at his blogger. Before John could reprimand him,the detective moved passed him and out into the hall. John continues to scrub his hands, meticulous as the doctor he once was. When that was finished he rinsed out his mouth one more time and made his way slowly to Mrs. Hudson's kitchen.

There he was met with the sight of Sherlock Holmes puttering around int he kitchen, removing food from takeout boxes an plating everything carefully. Mrs. Hudson was sitting at the table, her lips pursed as she poked at the buttons on her cellphone.

John coughed softly, drawing Mrs. Hudson to look up at him. "I do hope that you're feeling better dear." He nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Yes. I'm sorry for ruining-"

She shushed him. "You did ruin anything Mr. Watson. You just caused a change n venue, is all."

Sherlock set the plates down on the table. "Besides. I think that this is a bit better, don't you?"

The former doctor nodded ,pulling out the chair and seating himself. "Honestly, the only thing that I could be upset with you about is the giant leap in phone calls that I've gotten today. Twenty seven calls. And fourteen of them left voicemails!"

John frowned, poking at his food with his fork. "Why on earth did that happen?"

Sherlock settled into his chair. "John, it's clearly because of our impromptu walk through a rather commonly traveled part of London this afternoon. If my estimates are correct we will be the top story of tomorrow's news."

The former doctor paled, his mind replaying the open stares and surprised expressions that they had received. "I didn't think that it would be that sensational ."

The detective rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his food. "I came back from the dead. That in and of it's self is pretty sensational. Couple that with the fact that we were very publicly displaying affection and-"

"You've got news." Sherlock nodded,andJohn shook his head,sighing asheglared downat hisplate. "How long before it dies down, do you think? A week? A month?"

The detective shrugged. "I can't really say. Does it matter?"

Mrs Hudson nodded. "I'm concerned about how this will affect future casework for you dear." Both men looked at their landlady, confused. "Well, New Scotland Yard used to have a policy about relationships amongst it's employees. I don't know if they still do, or if it extends to - oh what did you call yourself?"

"Consulting -"

"That's right, consulting detectives, but they may not like it."

The detective shrugged. "They'll allow it. They need me. Besides, nothing's been said of Donovan and Anderson."

John paused, his fork hovering between his plate and his mouth. "Donovan was transferred."

The detective seemed slightly crestfallen. "That's a shame. I was so looking forward to seeing the look of utter disdain and horror on her face when I returned to work."

Bothe Mrs. Hudson and John rolled their eyes, each one fighting the urge to laugh at the sincerity in the detective's voice. They went about eating their meal, Sherlock casting surreptitious glances at John, who caught him and winked nearly every time. The meal carried on like this until each plate was cleared, at which point Mrs. Hudson stood. "Well boys it was absolutely lovely having this meal with you."

Sherlock slid his chair back and smiled, leaning down to hug the woman, a low whisper escaping from his lips. "It's good to be home." She patted his cheek and turned to John, how -himself- had just stood. "Get some proper rest dear." She stepped back and crossed her arms. "That goes for both of you. I don't want any shenanigans until you two are both in working order. Is that clear?"

John stood at attention, a grin spread wide across his face. "Yes ma'am."

She chuckled and sacked his arm lightly. "Get out."

Both men grinned, Sherlock marching dramatically from the room with John at his heels. They reached the door and heard a quiet "Goodnight boys." echoing behind them.

John turned and bellowed, "Good night Mrs. Hudson!" before shutting the door.