Chapter 3

One of the things John finds he loves most about their life is the sheer number of possibilities. Each new day brings about conversations to be had, kisses to be shared, cases to be solved. They're still working with Scotland Yard, of course, but not as closely as before. When he first returned, Sherlock had wanted to go back to how it was, with them running after serial killers at ridiculous times in the morning, with exhilaration and adrenaline the only things keeping them going, but John had said no. He'd had enough near-death experiences to last him – well, a lifetime. So now they are called only for minor cases, ones which will put them at no risk. They still have a hand in solving almost every crime the Yard comes up against; but they don't do the chasing, not any more. This is a new chapter in their lives, and it's different, of course it is, but it's good. It is our choices that make us, and they have chosen each other.

They go about each day as if it is their last one together. That afternoon on St Bart's has shown both of them how fragile and fleeting life is, how delicate and precious. They never miss a chance to tell the other that they love them. They argue, of course – every couple does – but never for long, and there are no grudges held. John knows when Sherlock is tired and picking a fight just for the sake of it, and he knows when he's genuinely angry about something. In the first situation, the remedy is simple – a chaste, soft kiss, and all is forgiven. In the second, he listens patiently to his husband rant; sometimes he argues back, and sometimes he doesn't. Sometimes he simply leans back in his chair and let the angry words wash over him - for they are just words, and we are all stories in the end.

People ask them how they do it, how they make their relationship work as well as it does, and the truth is that they simply know each other inside out. They know when the other has had a bad day and just needs a kiss and an understanding smile, and they know when the other is bored. (This still happens far too often, despite John's best efforts.) On cases, it's not Sherlock doing the work and John praising him - not any more. They work together, their minds moving as one. The sociopath and his doctor. The detective and his blogger. The head and the heart.

It's an advantage for everyone, really – the deductions are slicker and smoother than ever before, the case is solved, the criminal is brought to justice. They get a clap on the back and a warm handshake from Lestrade, a gaze of uncomprehending disbelief from Anderson and a shake of the head from Donovan. Even the business cards have changed. They now read 'Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, Consulting Detectives'. Sherlock's not the only one in the world, not any more, and it took a bit of getting used to but he finds that really it's perfect this way. He never has to shout for John any more, never has to text him or ask him to pass him things, because John is always there. Without exception. Any time of day or night, any circumstance or situation. Always.

And it works for John, too. He never has to wake up in the morning to a silent house, never has to frantically rush around London trying to find Sherlock so he can be sure he hasn't gone and got himself killed, and for real this time. He knows exactly where he is, and how to get to him. It's as if there's some sort of string tied to each man's finger, linking them together so they can never lose each other. The first time this thought occurred to John, he was reminded of a story his mother used to tell him and Harry when they were little. "An invisible red thread connects those destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstances. The thread may stretch or tangle, but never break." John likes to imagine this thread sometimes, when he and Sherlock are reading together on the sofa before bed. He pictures a simple string, vibrant and pulsing with colour, joining the two of them as they sit there entwined. It's perfect, really, because they both know that however tangled their life may become, however fraught with danger it might be, there will always be that connection between them. It may not be visible; but it's real, and that's enough for them.