While Sherlock's packing the last of his possessions the next morning, he comes across his notebooks from high school. He looks through all of the papers and finds nothing important, so he tosses it all in the trash. Everything, that is, except the program he saved from John's championship football game.
He wants to take it over to John to show him. Plus, it's the perfect excuse to go out to the vineyard again.
Sherlock eagerly knocks on the door once he gets to John's house. He knocks four times and looks into the front windows before he realizes nobody's going to answer. He hops off the steps towards his car and is about to leave when he remembers that John is probably out in the vineyard.
Up on the hill: John's favorite place. It's one-hundred percent better when he sees Sherlock Holmes hiking towards him.
"How'd you find me?" John asks.
"I didn't lose my memory when I tried to kill myself," Sherlock answers.
For the first time since they met again, John frowns.
"Sorry."
John doesn't say anything, he just pats the ground next to him.
Sherlock sits cross-legged on the dirt. John's knees are drawn to his chest; he look so fragile. He looks sad. It's no way that Sherlock's ever seen him out in the field.
"I, uh…" Sherlock takes the program out of his pocket. "I found something I wanted to give to you."
"Oh, yeah?" John asks.
Sherlock hands it over. "It's the program from your championship game two years ago. I thought you'd like it."
John smiles. "I never got one of these. Thanks."
"You're welcome."
John reads the front, then opens the page to read the player's names inside. A loud laugh escapes him.
"Is this a heart next to my name?"
Sherlock turns red. "What?!"
John shows him. Sure enough, there's a small heart next to John's name.
"Oh, god…"
John pats his knee while he continues laughing. "It's alright, Sherlock. It's, uh…cute."
Sherlock looks at him. "Cute?"
John nods.
Sherlock smiles. He looks around the field below them, as if searching for someone. "Where's Mary?"
"Uh…out."
Sherlock nods. "And your mother?"
"She's in Carmel visiting her sister."
Sherlock nods again. They're all alone.
"Say," Sherlock starts after a minute. "Where's Harry been?"
"Uh…good question. She took off after my dad's funeral and no one's heard from her since."
"Oh," Sherlock says. "I'm sorry."
John shrugs. "It's fine."
Sherlock picks up a little pile of dirt and plays with it between his fingers.
John laughs. "Never thought I'd live to see the day."
Sherlock drops it and wipes his hands on his jeans. "What?"
"Sherlock Holmes gettin' his hands dirty."
Sherlock laughs, too. "Massachusetts changed me."
John just smiles weakly. "So…" he tentatively asks, "Did you meet anyone out there?"
"Meet anyone?" Sherlock coolly replies, "I met lots of people."
John's eyes snap up to him in shock.
Sherlock laughs and rocks his body until he shoves John playfully. "Not like that, John. I made friends. I didn't…I haven't…met anyone."
John looks out over the field again. "Is it bad that I'm relieved?"
Sherlock shrugs. "Is it bad that I'm relieved that Mary moved out?"
"Moved out?" John asks. "How do you know she moved out?"
"She didn't look happy yesterday."
"Did I?"
"Yes."
"Guess she was right, then."
Sherlock looks at him. "What happened?"
"Uh…" John takes a deep breath. "You know. She accused me of still bein' in love with you and…I dunno, she just left."
"Just like that? Just that easy?"
"It was time," John replies.
"You didn't wanna marry her?"
John shakes his head.
"Why not?"
"Kinda hard to wanna marry someone when you're gonna be stuck on someone else for the rest of your life."
Sherlock looks at him again. His heart beats roughly in his chest. "Who?"
John squints up at the sun, clearly avoiding eye contact. "You," he softly says.
Sherlock can't help the quick smile he gives. "But…" he says, locking eyes with John when John looks at him again. "What about everything else? Every one else? Every—"
"Oh Sherlock," John sighs, reaching for him. "Shut up."
John pulls Sherlock's face towards his and kisses him lightly.
Sherlock progresses the kiss. Obviously, John is afraid to go too far, so he lets Sherlock set the pace. And for that Sherlock is glad. He loves that John's mouth turns soft and compliant against his.
It's as good as he remembers, better even. Now they're older and more mature and still, thankfully, in love.
And now Sherlock doesn't have to stop John. He doesn't have to pull away when his body betrays him. He's old enough to make his own decisions. He doesn't think that having sex with John right now will hurt him; he doesn't think that having sex with John will set back all that he did to get out of the bad place he was in last year. He wants John, that's all he knows.
Sherlock pulls away first anyway. "John…" he sighs.
John presses his forehead against Sherlock's. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…I shouldn't have—"
"No," Sherlock stops him. "It's just…" He looks into John's eyes. "Can we go inside?"
John cracks a smile and huffs out a relieved breath. He quickly stands and pulls Sherlock up too, then they walk hand-in-hand to the house.