The next day, you wake up from Sherlock's bed and head to the bathroom. You take a shower and, afterwards, brush your hair and teeth and then head back to the bedroom to get dressed.
This was your normal routine for the past two years, you didn't have Sherlock anymore or John, since he moved on with his life. You've spoken to him every now and then but you've been so busy with the detective work you haven't had much time to spend time with John.
Last you heard, he was still with his new girlfriend, Mary, and he was still working as a doctor. You've met Mary a few times and she seemed very nice, although maybe it was you just being paranoid and protective of your friend but you felt that she was hiding something. You didn't bring it up to John but you kept it in the back of your mind.
After you dress, you grab your coat and head out the door towards the stairs. You get half way to the stairs when you see John in front of the door and your aunt comes out of her flat at the same time and see him.
"John." You said with a small smile.
John looks over at you and your aunt and raises his hand in greeting, clears his throat and walks towards your aunt and gives her a hug. You walk down the steps and walk, briskly, towards them and the three of you get into a group hug.
*Sherlock's POV*
In Mycroft's office, Sherlock was reclined flat on his back in a barber's chair while a man was shaving his face with a cut throat razor and his hair was cut back to its normal length.
Sherlock was reading the paper as Mycroft talks to him. "You have been busy, haven't you? Quite the busy little bee." Mycroft said as he chuckles.
"Moriarty's network--took me two years to dismantle it." Sherlock said as he tosses the paper onto a nearby trolley.
"And you're confident you have?" Mycroft asked him.
"The Serbian side was the last piece of the puzzle." said Sherlock.
"Yes. You got yourself in deep there with Baron Maupertuis. Quite a scheme." Mycroft said.
"Colossal." replied Sherlock.
"Anyway, you're safe now....a small thank you wouldn't go amiss." said Mycroft.
"What for?" Sherlock asked.
"For wading in." Mycroft replied. Sherlock raises a hand to the barber to make him stop shaving and the man steps back a little.
"In case you'd forgotten, fieldwork is not my natural milieu." Mycroft said as Sherlock, grunting in pain, slowly sits up and looks at his brother angrily.
"Wading in? You sat there and watched me being beaten to a pulp!" Sherlock shouted.
"I got you out." Mycroft said, frowning indignantly.
"No--I got me out. Why didn't you intervene sooner?" Sherlock asked him.
"Well, I couldn't risk giving myself away, could I? It would have ruined everything." Mycroft replied.
"You were enjoying it." Sherlock said as he glowers at his brother.
"Nonsense." Mycroft stated.
"Definitely enjoying it." said Sherlock.
"Listen: do you have any idea what it was like, Sherlock, going under cover, smuggling my way into their ranks like that? The noise; the people." Mycroft said as he leans forward and grimaces at Sherlock.
Groaning softly, Sherlock painfully sinks back to lie down in the chair again and the barber resumes his work. "I didn't know you spoke Serbian." Sherlock said.
"I didn't, but the language has a Slavic root, frequent Turkish and German loan words. Took me a couple of hours." Mycroft said.
"Hmm--you're slipping." Sherlock said.
"Middle age, brother mine. Come to us all." Mycroft said as his assistant, Anthea, comes in and holds up a dark suit and a white shirt on a hanger to show to Sherlock.
*(y/n)'s POV*
You and John were sitting at your aunt's kitchen table as she firmly slams down a small tray containing two cups, two saucers and a jug of milk then goes across the room to pick up a plate of biscuits, which she equally loudly slams down onto the table.
You shake your head as John watches her silently while she picks up a sugar bowl and thumps it onto the table. You look at the bowl and said. "Um...Aunt Martha.....he doesn't....."
"Oh...you don't take sugar, do you?" Your aunt asked John.
"No." John said.
"You forget a little thing like that." Your aunt said.
"Yes." said John.
"You forget lots of little things, it seems." She said and John nods at this. You look over at him and run your finger between your nose and upper lip and asked. "What's with this, John?" John looks over at you and sees your gesture and touches his mustache.
"Ages you." You replied.
"Just trying it out." John said.
"Well, it ages you." Your aunt said as John looks at her, awkwardly.
"I'm not your mother. I've no right to expect it....but just one phone call, John. Just one phone call would have done." Your aunt cries as you look over at John.
"You never called my aunt?" You asked.
John looks down and said. "I just let it slide. I let it all slide. And it just got harder and harder to pick up the phone somehow."
You sigh at this and pat John on the shoulder and said. "You still should've called her." And the three of you chuckle at this.
*Sherlock's POV*
Sherlock was standing up and tucking his shirt into his pants while he looks at himself in a large mirror on the wall. "I need you to give this matter your full attention, Sherlock. Is that quite clear?" Mycroft asked him.
"What do you think of this shirt?" Sherlock asked.
"Sherlock!" Mycroft said, exasperated.
"I will find your underground terror cell, Mycroft." Sherlock said as he looks at him.
"Just put me back in London. I need to get to know the place again, breathe it in--feel every quiver of its beating heart." Sherlock said.
"One of our men died getting this information. All the chatter, all the traffic, concurs there's going to be a terror strike on London--a big one." said Anthea.
Sherlock put's on his jacket and asked. "And what about John Watson and (y/n) (l/n)?" Anthea throws an exasperated glance towards Mycroft.
"John and (y/n)?" Mycroft asked Sherlock.
"Mmm. Have you seen them?" Sherlock asked as he looks over at his brother.
"Oh yes, we meet up every Friday for fish and chips!" Mycroft said sarcastically.
Sherlock glares at his older brother, who rolls his eyes. Mycroft gestures to Anthea, who hands Sherlock a folder. "I've kept a weather eye on them, of course." Mycroft said as Sherlock opens the file. There are two black and white surveillance photo of John and a printed report underneath. He looks at the picture of John with his mustache. "Well, we'll have to get rid of that." Sherlock said.
"We?" Mycroft asked.
"He looks ancient. I can't be seen wandering around with an old man." Sherlock remarks as he closes the file and drops it on the desk, then holds out his hand.
Mycroft looks at him and Sherlock rolls his eyes and said. "Where's her file?" Mycroft looks at Anthea, who hands Sherlock your file.
He opens it and his heart skips a beat when he sees your picture, you were still as beautiful as ever but he noticed that you've lost some weight and there were dark circles around your eyes which told him you haven't slept much.
Out of everyone that he had to leave behind, he missed you most of all. He missed your smile, your voice, your laugh, the feeling of your lips against his and the conversations you two would have.
"Oh, you would be proud of her." Mycroft said and Sherlock shakes himself away from his thought and looks over at Mycroft. "She's left her job as a Sergeant and became a private detective herself." He said to Sherlock.
Sherlock quirks an eyebrow and asked. "Why on earth would she do that?"
Mycroft smirks at him and said. "Something to do with honoring your memory.....Although I do have to say, she's had alot of clients come to her and she's solved them pretty quickly." Sherlock turns back to your picture and smiles as he reads the list of cases you solved.
He gently strokes the picture with his thumb as he takes in every detail of your face. "You haven't been in touch at all, to prepare them?" Mycroft asked.
"No." Sherlock said, distractedly, as he continues to stare at your photo.
*(y/n)'s POV*
You lead John into 221B and he stands in the doorway and looks around and sees that everything is actually cleaned. "I see you've cleaned." John said and you nod at him and said. "I, practically, live here now."
You walk over across the room and look out the window and opened the curtain. You turn back to John and asked. "So, why now? What changed your mind?" John draws in a deep breath and looks at you and said. "Well, I've got some news."
"Oh, really?" You asked.
"Yes...um, remember Mary?" John asked you and you nod.
"I'm gonna ask her to marry me." John said and you smile and clapped your hands together.
"Oh, John! That's fantastic!" You said, excitedly.
John smiles at this and asked. "What about you? Have you ever found anyone?" You rolled your eyes and shake your head. "Aunt Martha has tried to set me up with some dates but....they're so boring." You said and John snorts at this.
"What?" You asked.
"It's just....you sounded like him just now." John said. And you smile at this and nod.
*Sherlock's POV*
"I think I'll surprise them. They'll be delighted!" Sherlock said as he straightens his jacket. "You think so?" Mycroft asked, smiling cynically. "Hmm. I'll pop into Baker Street. Who knows--jump out of a cake." Sherlock said.
"John isn't at Baker Street anymore. (Y/N) is still there of course, she's even living in your flat." Mycroft said as Sherlock looks at him surprised.
"I mean why would he be? John's got on with his life. And your precious girlfriend hasn't, although she's tried." Mycroft said.
"What life? I've been away. Where's John going to be tonight?" Sherlock asked him.
"How would I know?" Mycroft asked.
"You always know." Sherlock said.
"He has a dinner reservation in the Marylebone Road. Nice little spot. They have a few bottles of the 2000 Saint-Emilion....though I prefer the 2001." Mycroft said.
"I think maybe I'll drop by. Then I'll head to Baker Street to see her." Sherlock said.
"You know, it is just possible that you won't be welcome." Mycroft said.
"No, it isn't. Now, where is it?" Sherlock asked.
"Where's what?" Mycroft asked.
"You know what." Sherlock said as Anthea comes in and carries his Belstaff coat. Sherlock smiles with delight and slides his arms into the sleeves as Anthea lifts it into position.
"Welcome back, Mr Holmes." She said.
"Thank you, blud." Sherlock said, sarcastically, as he faces his brother.