"Wow. Fantastic."

"Please shut up, I'm not finished."

"Right. Sorry."

Sherlock paced in front of the corpse of a waitress, frowning at the ground. "It doesn't make sense. She shouldn't be dead. She should be in Dublin."

"Maybe he got tired of her? Said something she shouldn't?" John suggested, crossing his arms and shivering slightly at the chill in the London air.

"No, he wouldn't just- oh. Oh. That's it!" He shouted, freezing in his tracks and turning to the woman on the ground. He bent down and lifted her shirt slightly, just enough to display a small "X" tattooed on her hipbone. "She was marked. A decoy. Of course! That means they are still in Dublin. Idiots like them would never reroute their entire plan just because of one woman who was obviously marked from the start!" Sherlock stood, turning around to face Greg Lestrade. "Continue with the investigation in Dublin. The West End Bar is where they should be booked- check all the rooms. Let me know what turns up."

Lestrade furrowed his eyebrows at the notepad in his hand, quickly jotting down everything Sherlock was telling him.

"Okay. Yes, of course. We should hear word by tomorrow- I'll call you as soon as I know anything." He nodded.

"Good. John?" he swiveled around once again to find John, standing to the left of him. "Let's go."

John nodded a goodbye to Lestrade before looking back to Sherlock, giving him a quick smile. "Back to Baker Street, then?" he asked, turning to leave.

"Back to Baker Street." Sherlock answered, walking alongside him. Without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed John's hand, lacing his gloved fingers with John's bare ones. It seemed all eyes were on the pair as they strode away from the crime scene, hand in hand.
"Oi! Freak!" Sally called, jogging a bit to catch up with them. "Are you two together now, then?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?" Sherlock turned slightly, narrowing his eyes.

"I told you he was bad news," Sally said to John, ignoring Sherlock. "I warned you."

"Yes, I think I can sort that out for myself, thanks." John replied, giving Sherlock's hand a quick squeeze before leading him away from the crime scene and towards the main road. "Ignore her. Ignore them all." He said after walking for a few minutes in silence.

"They don't bother me." Sherlock said, his voice a little harsher than he intended.

"Okay, okay." John said calmly. "Never said they did."

Stopping suddenly in the middle of the near-empty street, Sherlock turned to John and studied his face. "John, I love you." He said firmly, eyes locked on John's.

"I…I love you, too, Sherlock." John grinned, his ears turning pink.

"Let's go home. It's cold outside." Sherlock smiled after a moment, breaking eye contact and leading John down the street once again. They walked in silence for the rest of the way home, both grinning like idiots when they thought the other wasn't looking. Truth is, they both saw. They were both proud of themselves because each knew that they were the cause of the smile.

And that was what love meant to John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.