"So it was really that simple?" John said with a slight chuckle. Sherlock nodded his head, "The right places and the right times, anything can happen." Sherlock gave John a false smile as John laughed in disbelief. Secretly, seeing John in this position broke Sherlock on the inside, but he would never show it. Emotions weren't really his sort of thing. Sherlock felt potentially guilty for John going down this dark road. The John that sat next to him on the couch wasn't his John. The man beside him was not his blogger. He changed physically and mentally. His eyes were still fogged and clouded. Hopefully, Sherlock would be able to get John back to his old self. Or at least that's what he hoped.
"What happens now?" John asked curiously looking over at Sherlock. Sherlock smiled widely and stated, "We get back to doing what we do best, solving cases! I guess we can make it open to public that I'm not dead since none of Moriarty's men seem to be active anymore." John's stomach dropped at the thought of solving cases again. He began twiddling his thumbs and feeling very anxious. His messy head of hair tilted to the side as he looked away. "Is something wrong, John?" Sherlock asked the thin man.
"I...," he looked away from Sherlock, "I can't go back to that life. It's...that I, well, I broke once you jumped. I pushed everyone out of my life, resorted to drugs, and now they all hate me. I have even more problems now, Sherlock," the doctor explained. Sherlock sighed and looked at John. "I understand. I've been in your shoes before, which is why I am here for you, John. I will help you get through this," he said placing a hand on John's thigh. John raised his head slowly and looked at Sherlock with wide eyes. His clouded eyes produced a glossy glare as a few tears formed in his eyes. "Thank you," John said as he began to get choked up. Sherlock smiled at his friend.
"But oh god it is swell to be back here again" Sherlock said standing up from the couch and taking another look around the place. "We have a big well...new life ahead of us so let's hit the hay!" Sherlock beamed down at the small, pale doctor. John slowly rose up off of the couch. He hung his head bashfully and quietly spoke, "I...I never touched your room. It's still in place, probably very dusty. I could never get myself to clean it out, you know? So I never did." Sherlock smile lessened at the sorrow and simplicity of his dear friend. He placed a gentle hand on his bony shoulder, "It's alright, John. I understand. Now come on, let's get to bed." John slowly paced his way back to his own bedroom. Sherlock peered the door open to his own. He stood in the doorway, finally happy to be home after all these years.