Finished! Be aware there is also kissing in this chapter. This is quite a short chapter, just wrapping things up. Thank you for making it this far (if indeed you have) and may I wish you a very happy series 3!

The week passed in a haze for John. Sherlock had sworn him to secrecy, so after a weekend of lying around and talking for hours about what the two of them had missed when Sherlock had been "away", John had to return to 221B, telling Mrs Hudson – who was very frantic and had given John a lecture on how she'd had to feed Hamish – he'd been to stay with his sister for the weekend. Sherlock insisted he stayed away from his new flat during the week to avoid suspicion, so each day at work he could barely give prescriptions out without his mind wondering what Sherlock was doing in that moment.

It wasn't an unpleasant feeling that John now had taking permanent residence in his chest. In fact, he felt as if there was something inside of him positively glowing out. Miranda, his boss, commented that she'd never seen him so happy.

On Tuesday evening, John went to visit Molly in the morgue. He found her hunched over some paperwork in the adjoining office and she jumped up when she saw him.

"John! Oh, you gave me such a fright! What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to stop by and see how you were," John replied, stifling a smile at the wary look she gave him.

"Oh, that's very kind of you, John," she began, "How are you-"

"And I also wanted to ask when you were going to tell me that Sherlock was alive?" John interrupted in a put-on annoyed voice. Molly's eyes widened.

"John, I…I couldn't tell you! He said…Sherlock said…and you know I couldn't…"

Molly trailed off as she saw John grin at her, and her shoulders sunk in relief.

"John!" she said, "You scared me! You know I did want to tell you, but I just couldn't."

"I understand," John replied, patting her shoulder with his hand, "And I appreciate what you did. Without you, Sherlock wouldn't have been able to do what he did. I know I was a miserable bugger for a good 10 months, but now I have him back. And I'm just…so happy."

John grinned at Molly, allowing the smile to fill him up as she beamed back at him.

…..

The rest of the week was just as long. John had gone ten months without Sherlock, but somehow these five days were proving to be the longest he'd ever felt he had to wait. John and Sherlock hadn't made love in the weekend he'd stayed over for – Sherlock, ignoring John's protests, had slept on the sofa, gangly legs hanging over the edge. On the Saturday night, John had got up to go and watch Sherlock sleeping, but he'd bumped into Sherlock in the hallway, who was going to watch John.

As soon as his last patient had left on Friday evening, John snatched up the overnight bag he'd packed and ran outside, waving briefly to Miranda and hailing a taxi to the flat. Sherlock was lying on the sofa when he arrived, eyes closed, but as soon as John shut the door his eyes snapped open and he leapt up.

"John," he smiled, moving in fast paces across the room and grabbing John's face with his hands, holding his jaw firmly and leaning down to press a deep kiss onto his lips. John let the overnight bag drop to the floor, moving his own hands up to Sherlock's dark curled hair and moving his fingers through it to the rhythm of the kiss. Sherlock moved one of his hands down John's chest cautiously, and when John simply leaned in further, he felt Sherlock press his hand more confidently over his heart.

John broke away for a second, looking up at Sherlock.

"It's been a long week," he said with ragged breath. Sherlock chuckled deeply, and John was happy to note that Sherlock's breathing was just as unsteady as his own.

"I could get you a drink?" Sherlock asked, moving slightly away from John's mouth, but John grabbed him by his purple shirt – one he recognised from a long time ago – and pulled him closer.

"Don't you dare," he replied, leaning up again to bring Sherlock in for another kiss. They were both more enthusiastic this time, their tongues encircling one another with ease and perfect movement. Before long, John found himself moving over towards the sofa – he wasn't sure if he or Sherlock had done the guiding – on which he fell, closely followed by Sherlock's thin frame pressed on top of John's body.

…

It was a good forty minutes later that John and Sherlock eventually broke the kiss, laughing at themselves for how long they'd let themselves be drawn in for. John sat up slowly, buttoning up his shirt which had become miraculously open at some point during the kissing session and patting down his ruffled hair.

"Well," said Sherlock, doing up the buttons on his own shirt, "That was certainly…erm… interesting."

"It was definitely the best gift of the lot," John replied with a laugh, "Even better than Hamish! You'll love him when you meet him, Mrs Hudson thinks he's the hedgehog version of me."

Sherlock grinned one of his half-mouth smiles.

"That reminds me," he said, "I have another gift for you. Well, I suppose you could call it a gift."

John moved closer, intrigued.

"I've been working things out for months, now," he began, "I had to make sure it was safe, what with the large network Moriarty had. But I think I almost have everything sorted out. With luck I can move back to 221B within a few weeks. Of course, the press will not take easily to it, and there may well be a number of other obstacles, so I'll need you by my side, John. If you'll let me, I'd like to give you the gift of my new life…if you'll share it with me?"

John looked into Sherlock's eyes, which were shining at him hopefully.

"You want me to share your new life with you?" John asked, and Sherlock nodded. John shuffled along the sofa, taking Sherlock's hand and intertwining their fingers.

"I lost you once," he said, still staring deep into Sherlock's eyes, "And I'm never letting you leave me again."