John traced his finger along the heart shaped frame before he took it out of the suitcase. Tara, Tommy and his own face started back with grins as wide as watermelon slices. They'd taken that photo over two years ago just a short time after his return to New Mexico and his stolid life as Dr. John Tennant. He sighed longingly and finished unpacking the meager contents of his two small travel bags into the closet and bureau of his old bedroom in his childhood home.

John felt only numbness as he stepped off the plane at Heathrow airport that morning. He'd gotten a call from his mother two days before telling him that his father had passed away in hospital. John found himself facing a dilemma. Mycroft had made it clear that John should stay very far away from England if he knew what was good for him. Since Sherlock had sacrificed himself so that John could have the family he'd always longed for, he'd better go back to them and stay out of Mycroft's path. John had left London soon after and returned to the only place he felt safe, loved and secure, Tara's arms.

But, his mother needed him now and he'd be damned if he would let old memories of Sherlock Holmes keep him away from his own mother in her time of need. Fortunately, Harry had helped to take care of most of the arrangements, and all John needed to do was attend the services the next day. However, his mother had been inconsolable and needed John's help to get her through the next few weeks. So, John had packed a bag and taken the risk of coming back to London despite his fear of seeing either Holmes brother.

It had been two years since he'd been back to his native country, and now that he was standing in his parent's house in west London, he could almost believe the time he'd spent living with Tara and Tommy had been some kind of dream.

The November wind rattled against the windows of the prewar house. His parents had never insulated the upstairs the way they had done the downstairs rooms and he shivered a bit at the wintery cold. Even though it was early November, the New Mexico he'd just left had still been warm; it had been shorts weather. Coming back to rainy, damp London had been a bit of a culture shock. But, here he was despite the fact that he never thought he'd get to return to London ever again.

"All right, Johnny?" his mother asked poking her head into his room.

"Yeah," he replied. "Just putting my things away." He tried a smile but found it didn't sit quite right on his face. "I can't get over how much the place smells like it used to. I mean…. It all just comes rushing back."

"It's good to have you here. I missed you, John," she said and moved into the room. "I'm glad your troubles are over and you came back."

"I'm not sure they are entirely over, Mum. But, I'm not letting anything keep me from being here for you."

Before he knew it, she wrapped her arms around him in a warm, strong hug. She was a few inches shorter than he was and he kissed the top of her iron grey head. He hadn't felt the need to cry since he'd heard the news of his father's passing, but now the sadness in his chest welled up. He really wanted nothing more than to stay here in this house with his mother for a good long while and let the familiar sights and sounds of London wash over him.

"You're welcome to stay here as long as you like, son," she said into his chest. "I like having you around. And, I think you should stay a while."

John laughed at that and said, "I'll stay as long as you let me." To hell with Mycroft, he thought. This was his home and now that he was back, he thought he might stay and try to recapture his old life as John Watson again. Maybe two years was long enough to let bygones be bygones…

After his mother left, he set the little picture on the desk he'd last used back in secondary school and sat on the bed. His "family" stared back at him. He'd kept the picture even though Tara had left him over three months ago when she had decided to take an administrative position at a middle school in Albuquerque. She asked him to move with her, eyes pleading for him to say yes. But, something in him knew he wouldn't go with her. Tara had worked hard the past year to earn her administrator's license and the job offered her twice the pay of a teacher. Of course she should take it. It would mean a much better life for both her and Tommy. But, John knew he wouldn't, or couldn't, join them.

Ever since his return to the U.S., John had held some part of himself in reserve. He'd never fully moved into Tara's adobe house, but he kept his own apartment as a place he could retreat to on occasion. He knew it hurt her that he couldn't fully commit himself to the relationship, but she'd often told him he should take all the time he needed to make sure he knew what he wanted. After a while, Tara began to read between the lines and sense she would never truly have what she craved most from John, his heart.

So, she applied for administrator positions in other cities, put her house up for sale and moved to Albuquerque. He'd helped her pack up the U-Haul and kissed her and a sobbing Tommy goodbye. She told him he'd always be welcome to see her son anytime he wanted. That almost broke him. He and Tommy had bonded in an unexpected way he'd never thought he'd do with another man's child. But, even the boy had suspected John was never going to be his "Dad" in a way he needed him to be. So, they said their goodbyes and became separate again.

After they'd left, John had spent the next two days waffling between feeling like he wanted to rush off to join them and ask Tara to marry him, and relief at having them gone. Eventually, his days blended into to one another, and he got used to his own solitude. He still occasionally missed them, but the relief won out and he settled into a steady routine. He'd let them slip away because deep down, he thought he might still be waiting for something else to happen.

He'd kept the picture of them all together because it made him happy to think he'd been part of a good thing once, and maybe he could be again. There might be something out there for him if he just kept himself open to it. After all, he'd survived his experiences with two genius maniacs over two years ago. Anything was possible.

John put the finishing touches on his unpacking, and arranged his room in a precisely military manner. He picked up his phone to go downstairs to eat the delicious chicken dinner he could smell his mother cooking from the second floor, when it pinged unexpectedly. Curious, John looked at the number. It was unfamiliar and that sent a small trill of worry through his insides. He only given three people in the world his cell phone number and that was Tara, Tommy and his mother. Neither member of his former family was likely to call him at this moment, and his mother was just downstairs so who could it be? It was a local number and John stared at it a few seconds before pressing "new text message."

It read: Welcome back.

John stared at the two words. No identifying name. He doubted Mycroft would contact him in this manner, or be so polite. That left two possibilities and he didn't really want to believe it was either one. The possibility that Moriarty might still be alive still galled John. The message might be from him. The bastard might be toying with him. Mycroft had revealed they'd never recovered Jim's body after John had detonated the collar on his neck and shoulder. He'd kept up on London news over the years, and according to all the legitimate papers and TV programs, Moriarty had never been caught or brought to justice. He might have laid low, recovering slowly and gathering strength after losing his prime asset, Sherlock. But, somehow this didn't feel like James Moriarty's style.

"John, dinner!" his mother called from downstairs. That shook John out of his reverie.

"Thanks, yeah. I'm coming," he called back pocketing the phone and pushing away the other thought that loomed large in his thoughts about who the message could be from, Sherlock…..