As Sherlock was well again, John had returned to working at the surgery. This meant he and Sherlock rarely crossed paths, as Sherlock kept such odd hours. Sometimes John wondered if Sherlock was even bothering to come home at all. It was just little signs like a new dirty mug in the sink, or papers moved on the table. Sherlock was usually such an untidy person, but for some reason, since Molly had left, he kept the flat immaculate. John didn't even think Sherlock was sleeping. That was nothing unusual for him when he was involved in a case, but his bed looked like it hadn't been slept in for days.

It was about 8 days after John's meeting with Molly that they finally found themselves in the kitchen together at the same time. John studied Sherlock carefully. Sherlock was leaning over his microscope, studying some scraps of paper carefully, noting what he found. John could see that Sherlock had lost pretty much all of the weight he had gained while Molly was staying, and there were big black rings around his eyes. He also smelt of nicotine, which was quite unusual for him, meaning that he'd also gone back to smoking. Again almost certainly as a reaction to what had happened with Molly.

A flash of panic swept through John's mind. He hoped and prayed that it was only tobacco that Sherlock had turned back to.

"Don't worry John, I'm not taking any drugs. I just fancied a cigarette. I have been working alot with Lestrade, and it's just too much sitting with him all day smelling tobacco on him and not being able to have one myself"

John smiled to himself. He didn't know how Sherlock did it. It was almost like he could read his mind.

John knew when Sherlock was busy, it wasn't the time to try and talk to him, so he made two coffees, handed one to Sherlock and then went and sat down in his chair with a book he'd been enjoying. He couldn't put the TV on as he knew it would disturb Sherlock.

He didn't mind. During the dark hours when Sherlock was in intensive care, John had prayed for a night just like this. One where Sherlock was lost in his work, while John could just sit quietly. At some points it had really looked like this might never happen. That Sherlock might not pull through and the unthinkable would happen and John would lose him for a second time, but this time with no miracle return. A wave of coldness flooded through John as he thought about it. He thought about how close he'd come to losing Sherlock for a second time.

John was well into his book, having read for a couple of hours, when he became aware of Sherlock standing up from his chair. He went to the cupboard in the kitchen, pulled out two glasses and a bottle of Whisky. Sherlock never really drank Whisky. John knew there must be something on his mind.

"Fancy a drink?" Sherlock casually enquired to John as he walked over with the two glasses and the bottle in hand.

John put his book down, and sat up straight in his chair "Sounds like a great idea".

Sherlock poured out two generous measures, and then he sat himself down in his chair. He proceeded to tell John about his day. About the fact he and Lestrade had been half way across London on foot tracking someone they knew to have false documents in hand relating to the purchase of a piece of artwork from the Tate Gallery. How they'd had to lay low for some time, and had almost missed the scent at one point as they were having a cigarette. Sherlock spoke with such animated enthusiasm about his work. It was obvious to John that Sherlock had enjoyed the exercise and had enjoyed having his mind stretched. The fact he was strong enough to exercise and to undertake such activities was still somewhat of a novelty to Sherlock.

But it was the eyes which gave it away. Sherlock's mannerisms were animated and full of life, but still his eyes betrayed him. Still there was this sadness deep within. The kind of sadness that only a true friend could spot.

"How are you doing?" John casually enquired.

"Ok"

"Can I just ask you one thing. It's just that I don't get it. If you knew you had to end it with Molly, why did you take it so far with her?"

Sherlock shook his head "John, I honestly don't know. I guess I got lost in the moment. Lost in the hope that it could work. I hoped I could find a solution that wouldn't end this way. But I just couldn't. I had an error of judgement. A serious error of judgement."

"Well, I think it was bloody selfish."

"Lets change the subject shall we?" Sherlock quickly responded. "I need to ask you the same question. Have you spoken to Mary?"

John was taken quite aback by Sherlock's straight out question. John hadn't been prepared for it. "She's OK. I've seen her a couple of times for ante natal appointments, to check on the baby. She's not been too well. She's had some bleeding so she's spent a few days in hospital. But in terms of speaking to her, no, I've not spoken to her. In fact I've not even said hello to her, come to think of it."

"John" Sherlock said quietly "I think you need to talk to Mary. I'd like you both to join me at my parents for Christmas Dinner next week. Mycroft will be there too. I know you've only met my parents a few times, here and at the hospital, but I think you'll find being at their house of benefit. They don't know what's gone on, obviously. They don't know who shot me. They've just decided they want to have a family Christmas dinner now I'm out of hospital. We haven't done it for years - well, since Mycroft left to go to university really. I'll drive us all down."

"Erm, you can drive?"

"John, this is a serious matter. You and Mary need to talk. You need to work this out."

John could feel the anger rising up in him. His voice began to get aggressive "And who on earth are you to tell me whether I should or shouldn't make up with my wife?"

"I'm the one she shot and nearly killed"

John was unable to respond. Of course Sherlock had a say. John had been violated by all of this and his hurt was deep and psychological, but it was Sherlock who bore the physical scars.

John nodded. Of course Sherlock was right. "What do you need me to do?"

"John, I have to close this case with Magnussen. There are many loose ends to tie up, but one of the biggest is you and Mary. Do you still love her?"

"Of course I do. This is tearing me apart. I love her so much. But I just can't trust her. I can't trust what she was. I don't know her any more."

"Then you have to put this behind you. You have to move on and start to trust her again. The problems of her past are her business. The problems of her future are your privilege."

John memorised the words Sherlock had just said to him. They summarised it totally. As usual, Sherlock had got to the crux of something.

"You're right. Of course we'll come to your parents. I'll text her."