All right, are you all ready for this? LAST CHAPTER! YAY! I'll just take this moment to thank you awesome people for following me and thank those who reviewed my chapters. You guys are amazing.

I'm not planning on writing a sequel to this story but keep on the lookout for a new JohnLock story from me very soon! I sincerely hope you guys follow that one as well.

I apologize for the super short chapter but I felt like it was a good place to leave it. As a last request for a final goodbye to this story, do you guys think you could leave me a review and just tell me your final thoughts about this story? Thanks a bunch!

Okay, here we go!

Chapter Eleven: Together Again

.o.

.o.

.o.

When Sherlock woke up again, he felt John's hand in his again. He relaxed and caressed his thumb over the top of his companion's hand affectionately. He slowly opened his eyes and smiled when he saw John looking at him with warmth in his own eyes.

"Have you even gone back home since I arrived here?" Sherlock looked his friend up and down, looking for any clues that might suggest otherwise.

"You tell me. Aren't you the great detective?" John smirked playfully.

"Consulting detective, and yes, John. Of course I am. Honestly, if I wanted someone to ask me ridiculous questions, I would've asked Anderson to come here," he teased, a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth.

John chuckled and shook his head. "I have missed this, Sherlock. I see you haven't lost your arrogance at all… seriously though, how are you feeling?"

Sherlock couldn't feel the morphine anymore and it was the first time that he could actually feel real pain. "It hurts, John. What else should I expect though? I've been shot with a bullet. Speaking of which, about what happened at the Armoury with Moriarty – "

John tensed up slightly and sighed before he interrupted. "I know, Sherlock. I know you wanted to end Moriarty on your own terms but… I just couldn't take what he did, shooting you like that. I should've known he was going to do something like that. I felt like I needed to do something…"

Sherlock waved John's statement off with his free hand. "I understand. I understand why you did it and I wasn't going to harass you about that. You're right – I did want to take him out on my own terms but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of watching me bleed out. Thank you, John… for killing him."

John gave him a curt nod, his face still unsure about his actions. He cleared his throat and continued to caress Sherlock's hand in his own, the two men silent for several minutes before he finally found the courage to speak again. "I'm… I'm really grateful you're okay, Sherlock, and… thank you for saving my life in that place…"

Sherlock could see the discomfort in John's eyes and smiled in an assuring manner. "You don't need to thank me, John. I… you mean a lot to me… and… I love you," he stammered awkwardly. "I'd do anything to protect you because you're the first person who understands how I am and why I do the things I do. You're the first person who gave me a chance to open up to you and accept me with all my… faults."

John chuckled softly and nodded in understandingly, grinning. "I love you too, Sherlock." He gave his hand a gentle squeeze before he his eyes brightened up. "Oh! I can't believe I almost forgot this but… the doctors say you can go home tomorrow morning!"

Sherlock sighed and hit the arm rest of the hospital bed in frustration. "God, that's not soon enough! I have cabin fever, John. I swear I'm going to go insane being cooped up in here…"

John looked at him with skeptical eyes. "You've just been shot, Sherlock!"

The detective tapped his fingers on the arm rest impatiently and squirmed on the bed. "Four days ago! I assure you I'm perfectly fine now but I'D BE A LOT BETTER IF I COULD GET SOME BLOODY MORPHINE IN HERE!"

John wasn't surprised at Sherlock's change in demeanor. He just sunk back into his chair and rested his chin on his hand. "You shouldn't have any more morphine, Sherlock. Mycroft told us he's the cause of your limited supply and I agree with him. I can see what I can do about getting you some regular painkillers, if you like."

Sherlock shook his head and looked out the window, trying to control himself for John's sake. "Don't bother. I don't want any aspirin. I want something stronger than household painkillers…"

John rolled his eyes but didn't let go of Sherlock's hand. "Of course you do, but you're not getting any."

Sherlock took a deep breath, chewing on his lower lip before snapping his head towards John. "Where are they? Where are my cigarettes?"

"You were shot and I don't bloody care if it was four days ago! You need to relax and let yourself heal before you ingest toxic chemicals into your body!" John scolded.

Sherlock's grip on his hand tightened slightly but then relaxed again. "Fine. But only because you're here with me. It wouldn't be this way if we weren't together…"

John chuckled slightly. "Oh I know… if it were up to you, you'd probably get your clothes back on and jump out of this window right now. Maybe it is a good thing that I'm here."

Sherlock ceased being antsy and looked over at John before he gave him a small smile. "It is most definitely a good thing you're here, John. It's… considerably better than being alone and in this bed. I-I'm sorry, for my behavior. I just want to get back to Baker Street…"

John nodded and sighed again. "Yeah, I get it… you're sick of being here. I don't blame you. I just want you to be back at one hundred percent before we go… trouncing off again to solve more crimes." His eyes suddenly became glazed over with a look of fear and dread now, the cause of which did not go unnoticed by his companion.

"Maybe… we should close up shop," Sherlock suggested hesitantly, looking over at John.

Realization appeared upon the doctor's face after several moments of confusion and his eyebrows raised in surprise. "No more cases? No more… running around London solving crimes? You would do that for me? I mean, you would… honestly do that, Sherlock?"

He slowly nodded but his hands were tense in uneasiness. Of course the idea wouldn't appeal to Sherlock. Solving crimes and running around, the adrenaline pumping through him, were the only things keeping the consulting detective from turning to his addictive vices. "Yes, John. I saw what it did to us, how this previous case ripped us apart and I don't want you to leave again… so yes, I would do it for you."

John felt his heart race in his chest and he couldn't stop the grin from appearing on his face. He sat back in his chair again and looked at Sherlock in disbelief. He wanted to call this progress. He wanted to be proud of Sherlock's decision to do what would make John happy but looking at Sherlock made him feel hesitation. He bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair before he shook his head.

"I… I appreciate the gesture, Sherlock… but I can't let you do that for me."

Sherlock looked at his friend in confusion and sat up straighter, his eyebrows furrowed. "I thought… isn't that what you wanted? I thought you just wanted to focus on us, our relationship? The case got in the way…"

It was John's turn to feel frustrated now. "I know what I said but… I realize that solving these crimes could be the only thing holding you together. Doing this with you is keeping you from falling apart at the seams. I must admit that it's also helping me as well. I haven't had a proper nightmare since before this case started."

Sherlock was quiet, anxiously biting his thumbnail in thought now. He swallowed hard and looked at John again. "So… the cases are therapeutic for both of us," he deducted. "John, how are we going to do this? With the last case, you complained about how I barely talked to you and… just… hung out with you. You know how I get with cases… I need to focus on them."

John nodded, seeing the issue. He cleared his throat once again before speaking. "I suppose that we'll just have to work around that. I'll do whatever you need me to do during them. I'll make the sacrifices, for you. You don't want to mess around or do anything during the cases, then fine. That's fine, Sherlock. I'll accept it and let you focus but in between the cases, you're mine."

Sherlock's eyes glistened with love and he chuckled lightheartedly. "That sounds like a brilliant plan. Thank you, John… you can't know how much that sentiment means to me, truly."

John nodded and leaned in before he gently planted a kiss on Sherlock's hand before he squeezed his hand again affectionately. "I'm going to get some coffee but I'll be right back, okay?"

Once Sherlock nodded, it wasn't long before he felt himself nod off again. When he woke up again, he saw the sun rising in the sky and silently cursed himself for wasting his time sleeping while John was still here at the hospital, choosing to sleep in the uncomfortable visitor chair by his hospital bed. Sherlock watched the orange bleed into the pink and yellows of the sunrise, letting himself take it in, all the while feeling eternally grateful for John and the idea of a world without Jim Moriarty.

.o.

.o.o.

.o.

Sherlock hadn't been home for five days when he was finally able to have his first cigarette since he started the case. He let the nicotine soak into his system, decreasing his appetites and relaxing him. John looked at him with somewhat disapproving eyes as he sat in his armchair, reading his book with a cup of tea. The two men looked eyes and smiled lovingly at one another.

Neither were complaining about the lack of new cases since it meant they could spent quality time together. Mary made casual visits at least once a week that only lasted about an hour, but the three of them became close friends quickly.

Sherlock watched the rain contently from the window one day as he let his fingers dance across the violin, strumming the strings with a pleasant elegance that caused the flat to become enchanted with the sounds of his original musical talents. He closed his eyes and let out a note as he exhaled slowly through his mouth. He soon laid the instrument back on its placeholder before he turned to look at John who was laying on the couch where Sherlock usually lay.

"I've been having a lot of thought about something…" he started, smirking.

John looked over at him and smirked back playfully. "Careful about that now. We know what happens when your head gets too big…"

"O-ho! I believe you need to follow me and see what I've been thinking about though, John!" Sherlock exclaimed, taking his hand and pulling him up.

John let himself move with his friend and gave him a surprised look. "Oh yeah? Well, I think you should give me a hint…"

Sherlock grinned and laughed softly before he leaned in and pressed his lips gently against John's and lingered there for what felt like ages before he reluctantly pulled away again, and started tugging on his friend's hands again to follow him.

"Hmm… I'm still not totally convinced that I know where your thinking lies, Sherlock," he teased, smiling.

Sherlock pushed open the bedroom door and looked back at John with mischievous eyes. "It's elementary, my dear Watson!"

With these words, Sherlock pulled John inside the bedroom and then closed the door, only letting the bedroom see the rest of his deductions.