A/N: Chapter 2! Yay! This WILL be the last chapter I do not intend to extend it. However, I will always accept prompts and if an idea strikes I'll continue! Hope you enjoy this last installment as much as I loved writing it! Don't forget to review! also follow me on tumblr: klainebaby123 is my name... the same name is also my Instagram and my twitter handle is khouck6992...

Chapter 2

"I'm glad to be home." John sat in the big leather chair safe inside 221B Baker Street. He felt warm and loved; something he'd been missing in Afghanistan. He sat with a blue blanket draped upon him, a cup of tea in his hands, and his shoulder was bandaged heavily.

Sherlock was sitting across from him staring straight through him with those ice-cold eyes. "I'm happy." His words were so simple, but they meant to world to John. "but, I don't like why you are here."

"I know, but it's ok!" John's voice was much louder than his fiancé's; he was obviously feeling much better. "At least I'm not going back now. I get to stay here, with you, and possibly go on cases again."

"You don't understand!" the detective moved his head so that his eyes were staring right into the army doctor's. "You could have DIED! This isn't ok! In what way is this ok?!"

"I'm not saying it's ok… I'm just saying I'm here and it is ok now."

"No it's not! It is NOT OK! You. Got. Shot!" Sherlock's eyes, which were always a different color, almost seemed to turn red before he settled down again and they turned back into a subtle grey.

"Come here." John motioned to the chair next to him. The detective silently got up and laid his head over the edge so that his fiancé could play with his curls. They weren't like other couples and John knew that. They were a gay couple made of two people who weren't gay, but found a deeply rooted love in each other. It had come about when both had been looking for a flat share. It was back before Sherlock had started working for the Yard and had only been taking small personal cases, and was busy categorizing Tobacco ash. It was when John had gotten back from his first tour in Afghanistan, with little to no money and no possessions aside from a change of clothes and some dog tags. They had created a simple life together where they had become comfortable in the presence of each other. It had quietly blossomed into love that had surprised both of them but they didn't really mind; they felt safe with each other.

Sherlock had become a different person because of it all, and that's why only a year after they met they got engaged. It wouldn't have taken a genius to realize the two belonged together. Two months after the engagement when John got his letter directly from the British government the world's only consulting detective cried for the first time in years. It was as if the flood gates had opened and he was letting out years' worth of bottled up emotions; he couldn't lose this person of his. That's why he begged and pleaded with Mycroft to take back the letter not to make the man go, and that's why he cried even more when he watched his fiancé get onto an airplane in full uniform bound men for one of the most dangerous places on Earth. Now he was here, granted, he had been shot… he could have died… but he was here now. That's why in the calm of their flat, while his fiancés fingers trailed patterns into his scalp… the detective… the freak… the machine… John's Sherlock… cried.

"I'm here to see Sherlock… Sherlock Holmes. I stopped at the Yard and they said he was here today."

Sally stopped and sighed. She hated civilians who tried to get into the crime scenes, people who wanted a glimpse of the great Sherlock Holmes in action. "Sir, this is a crime scene. We can't just let civilians in, it could severely damage what we're doing in there."

The plainly dressed man rolled his eyes and took a few more steps closer; leaning onto a cane for support. "I didn't want to use this." He pulled a wallet form his back pocket, flipping it open to reveal a military Id. However, this wasn't just any old military ID, and Sally's eyes almost bugged out of her head. This ID could've gotten the man into any crime scene in the whole of England, even the most top secret ones. Maybe he could have even gotten into Baskerville. "Yeah I know." The man smirked. "I know some important people. Now… Sherlock?"

Sally picked up her radio as she continued to look at the man and his ID. "Greg I'm sending up a man. Mister-."

"Doctor."

"Sorry, a Doctor John Watson." There was a pause as the DI replied. "He has a military ID, issued straight from Buckingham Palace. It's a high color, sir." Another pause. "He's here for Holmes."

Finally after no more than a minute, the sergeant lifted the police tape to allow John access. She gestured behind the building as she began to walk with him. She probably should have stayed at her post, but she really wanted to see what a Doctor wanted with the freak.

The two ducked through yet another round of bright yellow police tape, at which John was forced to flash his ID twice more. However, they eventually made it to the middle of the crime scene, where Sherlock stood over a dead body and Detective Inspector Lestrade walking toward them.

The DI stuck his hand out to John, and then spoke in a whisper. "He's deducing… pretty out of it. Already yelled at us to shut up twice."

John couldn't help the smile that graced his lips. "He's like that. Can go for days without speaking a word until he figures it all out. I'm here to help, I'm a doctor."

Lestrade sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "What level clearances are you?"

"Military black."

"Sherlock!" Lestrade shouted over his shoulder. "You have a doctor here to see you!"

"I'm busy, Lestrade." The annoyance was clear in the detective's voice. "Tell them to stop by my flat if they need private work done!"

Sally stepped forward. "Finally, someone has seen you shouldn't be out here. They're going to haul you off, freak." Her words were punctuated by a click of her tongue and smart arse smirk.

John could visibly see the words cut through his fiancé who just continued to stand there and take it, back turned to everyone. No one did anything but just roll their eyes as if this was a common occurrence; a normal workplace nuisance.

Sherlock felt the words, he always did. He had just had a hard week; extremely emotionally charged. It wasn't that the man didn't feel, he just had a hard time understanding his feelings and expressing them in a healthy way. He felt as if the dam was about to break, and he blinked back the wetness that was threating to spill down his cheeks. Don't turn around… don't give her any ammo… just keep deducing. His whole body felt heavy and all he wanted to do was lie down. However, that wasn't going to happen. Keep going… no one will notice. No one ever noticed.

"Sherlock." John stepped forward, noticing the tension in his lover's body. He knew the man was close to a breakdown, no one else seemed to notice or care. He saw his partner turn around, tears pricking at his eyes.

"I told you not to come, you're still too weak."

John smiled, "I'm here aren't I? Come here…" He stepped forward once more and suddenly he had an armful of the world's only consulting detective. He KNEW the man was about to cry, but he also knew he wouldn't let that happen in front of so many people. "shhhhh…" he whispered quietly, "Don't do this here… you don't have to do this here."

"Who are you?" the confusion in Sally's voice was noticeable. "I thought you were his doctor?" This wasn't how doctors acted, it was completely unprofessional.

Lestrade seemed to be the only Yarder who even had any kind of comprehension on what was happening. His face wasn't the mask of confusion like every other officer. Instead, he wore a warm smile, and a knowing look. However, he didn't say anything to Sally.

John rolled his eyes, "I'm an army doctor." He pulled his dogs tags out from behind his jumper and that's when they all saw it. Attached to the metal tags was a small gold ring, dirtied by dirt and sand. It was obviously a bit too big for his fingers, and it was dented in on the one side. "I'm his fiancé. I just got shot, and so I'm back from Afghanistan I wanted to come on a case with him, but obviously even him coming today was a mistake."

"Why would you say that?" Sally quirked an eyebrow and it was obvious that the question was less than innocent.

"How would you feel if your fiancé went off to war, came home shot, and you still had to go back to work and look at dead, and possibly gun shot riddled bodies all day?!" There was fire in John's eyes and hurt in his voice.

"It isn't like he has… feelings."

That comment seemed to set John over the edge. "How could you say that?! Look at him!" He gestured down to his utterly exhausted fiancé basically lying in his arms; red rings around his eyes and a blank stare on his face. "Obviously he tries not to show emotion because nobody cares! Do you know what, Donavan?!" He spit her name out as if it was poison on his tongue. "This man… is an amazing man. I was alone when I met him, and I owe him so much. I love him and it is unacceptable for anyone to say he is unfeeling, or a machine, or a freak. He has JUST as many emotions as everyone else in this room!"

Lestrade decided it was time for him to intervene. He reached over and put his hand on the army doctor's shoulder. "I think you've both had enough commotion for one day. Take him home."

John nodded, and threw one last glare to Sally before walking his fiancé right off of the crime scene. Right as they were about to hail a cab Sherlock turned around. Exhaustion was all over his face, and his body was shaking. He spoke quickly and quietly to Lestrade who had followed them to the road. "Suicide. It was a suicide…"

John smirked; of course he'd still managed to finish his case.

A/N: So there ya go! Big thanks to Parivash! I couldn't do these stories without you! You fix mistakes I don't even know are there! Reviews are greatly appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed! Other Sherlock stories can be found on my profile, along with a medley of other kinds fics! Thanks for reading it means a lot to me! 3