This was written quickly and has not been betaed. Please don't hurt me! Also, I don't own them so make no monetary profit writing about them.

It was a widely known fact that Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, needed no one. Caring is a disadvantage, Mycroft had always told him and the younger sibling, despite how he might act otherwise, listened to what his big brother said. On the roof of St. Bart's, Sherlock was inclined to agree when he knew three people he cared for could easily be removed from existence unless he himself was eliminated.

The true secret was, Sherlock did need people. He needed John to badger and stand up for him, Mrs. Hudson to love and fuss over him and Lestrade to continue to give him a chance professionally. Yes, there were private cases but the D.I. had seen the younger man at his worst and, once he was off the drugs, allowed Sherlock the opportunity to prove himself. They had been as instrumental in helping to shape the young detective as Mycroft.

During his absence, Sherlock had spared little thought for those he had left behind. Chasing after all the threads of Moriarty's network demanded his full attention and thinking of any of the three, John in particular, caused a wave of homesickness to fill the genius. Continually telling himself that each of them would soon move on and quickly forget his part in their life, helped Sherlock himself distance from the emotion threatening to overwhelm him.

Two years passed and he was finally finished.

Sherlock decided to pay a visit to Lestrade first (he didn't want any surprise visits later). He knew Mycroft had cleared his name some months earlier and notified the D.I. of his younger brother's continued existence only hours earlier. After a tongue lashing, Lestrade had grabbed Sherlock by the back of the neck and hauled him into a brief hug. Promising he would be in touch, once things quieted down, the D.I. had pushed Sherlock into a cab and sent him to Baker Street.

Finding his key no longer worked, Sherlock decided to not pick the lock but knocked instead. Mrs. Hudson soon opened the door and gave out a scream when she saw her former tenant alive and with ginger hair. As she started crying, Sherlock walked into the foyer and closed the door behind him. Pulled into shaking hug, the tired detective gave a sigh of relief. Mrs. Hudson planted a kiss on his left temple and made him vow to never do such a thing ever again. A promise Sherlock was happy to make.

After an hour of explanations over tea, Sherlock made his way up to 221B. Mrs. Hudson had told him John would be home in less than an hour and he wanted a few minutes to reconnect with their home. He walked up the stairs and couldn't help but smile as the third step from the top still creaked.

Pushing open the door, Sherlock's jaw dropped. Everything was as it had been the last time he'd been in the flat. He dropped his coat, one he had been forced to use since leaving London, onto the nearby arm of the sofa and took in the skull on the mantle, the fluorescent smiley face on the wall and the two chairs facing one another. He made his way into his bedroom and found his chemistry set on a new table sitting against the wall. No dust covered any surface and his violin case sat in the middle of the duvet on his bed. Shaking, Sherlock sat down and was soon caressing his beloved instrument.

Time passed without notice until Sherlock heard the main door open and close. He quickly put the violin away as John came up the stairs. He noticed the pause in the living room and soon a figure filled the open doorway leading into his bedroom. Sherlock squared his shoulders and turned to face his best friend.

John's face quickly shed the shocked expression it had initially held and moved on to determined. Sherlock could see the doctor's fists clench and braced himself for the punch that soon followed.

Sometime later, both men lay cuddling on the bed.

A small part of John had wanted to hang on to the anger he had felt upon hearing Sherlock's explanation for his disappearance. However, he had seen the lines that now graced the face in front of him and knew it had cost his friend dearly to leave them all behind. Instead he had grabbed the detective and kissed him in relief. At first surprise had caused Sherlock to stiffen but he had soon relaxed and became an equal partner in the give and take of the caress.

When they had broken apart, John had drawn Sherlock into his third, and tightest, hug of the day. Not caring for any activity that would cause them to part they had wordlessly agreed to shed all clothing and tangle their limbs as they ran hands over each other, needing reassurance they were together once again and not dreaming.

As Sherlock felt all of the tension of the past few years bleed away and sleep reach for him, one final though crossed his mind, Caring definitely has advantages.