John POV

Two weeks later

Sitting in Lestrade's office, I tried to fight the fit of giggles which was building in the pit of my stomach. Lestrade was at my side, spluttering and choking on his own uproarious laughter, both of us sitting with our arms crossed as we watched the events transpiring outside of the window.

A few hours ago, a little girl had been brought in. She had been distraught after the disappearance of her parents, in mysterious circumstance, and Sherlock and I had been called in. Obviously that's not what we found hilarious, I'm getting to that bit. Anyway, Lestrade had tried every form of praise, bribery and prodding to get the girl to open up but she had refused to even speak. She just sat, staring at her hands in dead silence. When Sherlock arrived he had ushered us out, to watch from the interrogation room behind a one-way mirror.

Through the mirror, we had watched Sherlock's transformation. Ever since that hospital visit he had been different, in a good way. Suddenly, he was more than just Sherlock Holmes, the Sociopath. He had more sides to his personality, as if all of the fragments had reconciled with the logical, cold detective's normal personality, though he never explained what exactly had happened. So, whilst they never took full control, as they had in that terrifying period of darkness, they were always just beneath the surface… and often they were there for the better. It made him more human, more accessible and more kind.

Now, we had watched his good side appear, brightening his entire persona and bringing a twinkle of warmth into his usually icy blue eyes. It reminded me of the change that would come over him when he portrayed a character, whilst talking to a witness, but it was so much more. The smile wasn't forced or cat-like; it was deep and genuine. He had abandoned his coat quickly, throwing it over his chair, along with the gloves and the scarf, then gone to kneel in front of the little girl, opening his whole body up - hoping to become accessible and get her to connect, he told me later. He pushed the long blonde hair out of her face and pulled an expensive silk, monogrammed handkerchief out of his pocket, which he had used to gently dab her eyes. Once her face looked less red and puffy, he quietly instructed her to blow into the handkerchief. Then, disposing of the expensive scrap of fabric – even the nice side wasn't about to put up with a sodden, snotty piece of fabric in his pocket – he had taken the girl's tiny hands in his, gently rubbing a thumb over the skin to soothe her and looked deep into her eyes, analysing her.

An idea had apparently come to mind and he bowed jokingly to the girl, kneeling like a knight before his Queen and bowing his head and speaking with a surprisingly accurate impersonation of a medieval knight,
"My dearest Princess, our greatest army - the yard of the Scots - is to be sent to search for your Royal Parents, but we must have the map to the distant Kingdoms, or we will never find the evil troll who took them. Sir Lestrade, Sir John and I will not stop until we have found them!"

Her face had lit up, and a smile had formed immediately,
"Are you a Knight too?" He shook his head, pulling a face – teeth bared and his arms moving to form claws in front of him – as he roared softly,
"I am Smaug the Dragon, hear me roar! Your father tamed me many years ago, and I must bring him back to the Castle or the Kingdom will perish!" He looked sincerely at her, eyes wide, and gently asked, "Will you help us on this quest?" She looked thoughtful for a second,
"I will, but only if you let me fly on your back, oh Mighty Smaug!"

Instantly, she was being lifted into a piggy back and Sherlock began to jump and roar as they ran around the office, ignoring the looks shot their way as they as they ran past the staff, screaming and roaring as they went. His childish side was clearly enjoying taking part, Lockie surfacing to indulge in the one bit of carefree play that Sherlock would get every decade or so. I imagine that Mycroft and Sherlock had never had much time to play make-believe in their youths. Sherlock was suffering at the hands of their father, forced to be serious and quiet to keep out of the way, whilst Mycroft was probably entirely focused on school. This was probably one of the few times he had ever truly let go and indulged his childish side. Suddenly, Sherlock skidded to a stop,
"But alas, our path is blocked! For it 'tis the fair maiden, Lady Sally, trapped in the clutches of the Village Idiot, Anderson! We must save the damsel and perhaps she will accompany us on our quest." Lestrade and I burst out laughing as Sherlock, who still had the little girl clinging to his back, picked an astounded Sally up Bridal Style and ran away from Anderson, Donovan screeching in his arms and trying to escape.

They returned to the interrogation room and Sherlock dropped the woman and girl on the desk, jumping up onto the chair and pulling a heroic pose, slightly ruined by his giggling along with the little girl,
"I have saved you, Lady Sally!" She smirked slightly, playing along for the girl's sake,
"Indeed you have good sir-" The little girl piped up, looking at Donovan in disbelief,
"He's a dragon!" Sherlock bared his teeth comically and growled,
"Of course, how foolish of me for mistaking such a fine specimen. I'm afraid this puts me in a difficult position… for all fair maidens must reward their saviour with a token, a kiss!" Sherlock rolled his eyes, grunting slightly, and tapped his cheek with a finger, allowing her to reach up on tiptoes and peck a brief kiss on the pale skin. Sherlock actually smiled at her, nodding his thanks for her playing along with the game, and I smiled.

Lestrade had been right. Sherlock was almost human now. He had more sides to him than just the side I had once admired and befriended, and neither of us were the same people as when he had been attacked. It was definitely odd to see him act such kindly to Donovan. She had actually been surprisingly understanding about the whole thing, learning about the war waging in Sherlock's head, and had stepped down graciously. Most of the time, they were pretty much back to their old relationship; although I did catch a brief twinkle in her eyes once in a while, when she was looking at Sherlock. The look was usually returned with begrudging respect and slight smile from Sherlock. Now, he gave that same smile when she curtseyed and said,

"Now, if you will excuse me, my Prince Charming waits for me. Good day, kind Dragon and lovely little princess."

The two waved goodbye as Donovan returned to her desk, where her new boyfriend – one of the new guys on the force – was waiting with a bemused smile on his face. I could see Anderson's murderous look as he stared at the pair of them, and I could also see the moment of realisation as he remembered what Sherlock had called him. Lestrade let out a bark of laughter at the delayed response.

We exchanged a look and turned back to see Sherlock tickling the little girl and pretending to breathe fire, an odd but not unpleasant warmness radiating throughout my whole body. Damn, I loved that man. It wasn't as a friend, or a lover, or even a brother. I didn't know what Sherlock was to me, other than the part of my soul that had been missing all of my life. I knew now that we could never be happy if either of us was to go without the other; I would only truly be happy if we one day retired to the countryside, to live out of the rest of our days side by side. I could almost see us sitting across from each other at the breakfast table in years to come. Sherlock rattling off about tobacco samples as I read the paper and pointed out interesting stories over my toast.

As if sensing my scrutiny, Sherlock looked up and I returned to the present. The wrinkled face and grey hair of the future faded, and I was left with man of the present. His eyes flickered across the mirror and, as impossible as it seemed, I swear they zeroed in on my own. For a long moment, we stared into each others eyes, and he smiled as the strange connection, and then he turned back to the little girl. The grin on his face never faded, however, and neither did my own.

Slowly, both of them slightly out of breath, he set her back in her seat and the proper questioning began, the girl spilling her entire life story to the dragon, happy to help us with our quest.

And all I could think was how lucky I was to have found him, because - in the end - we had saved each other.