I was watching fan videos on YouTube, and I saw one that was just fanart set to Katy Perry's (?) A Thousand Years. And one picture showed John in fatigues, and.. this came out. I may incorporate it into another story, or I may write another story around it, but I don't know. I'm not sure if it will be as heart-wrenching for you as it was for me to write, but it almost made me tear up.

Enjoy.

It's been three months. Three months since John got recalled to the Army for a special mission that for some reason they needed him specifically for. He fought with Sherlock about going, so soon after they had started a relationship, but it was something he needed to do, something he felt he had to do. They exchanged letters and a few phone calls but it wasn't the same as having the detective there with him. Once released, he immediately went to the flat, only to find the consulting detective not at home. Mrs. Hudson gushed over him and then said he might be at Scotland yard. He hasn't even changed out of his fatigues, just dropped his duffel before he heads to Scotland Yard, determination in every step. The guard at the front desk gives him a surprised look, recognizing him but not used to seeing him as Captain Watson instead of Dr. Watson

Impatient, John takes the stairs up to the level where he knows Lestrade's office is, no longer getting out of break from a few flights of stairs after what he's been through. He steps out into the bullpen as it were, getting more than a few stares from the people who knew him but no one says anything. Determinedly, he heads straight for Lestrade's office where he sees a familiar mop of curly hair. He only makes it halfway across the room before Sherlock starts to come out of the office.

The detective looks worse for the wear, his hair a mess, bags under his eyes and his skin even more pale than it usually is, obviously not having been feeding himself as well either. All of that even John can tell, but he's too relieved to see his detective, the love of his life, in one piece.

"Sherlock." John says quietly, though it carries across the suddenly very quiet floor, his hands clenching and releasing at his sides as he tries to figure out what to do next, what would be appropriate versus what he wants to do.

Sherlock was arguing with Lestrade over a case, but all that is forgotten when he sees his soldier standing there, safe and sound. The case is forgotten, everything else is forgotten as he focuses on the doctor, looking him over and cataloging the different changes. And then his feet are moving, they carry him across the room to descend on John, putting his hands on either side of the Captain's face to tilt it up so he can swoop down and give him a deep, hungry kiss, trying to convey all of his feelings into it, his relief, his happiness, his love.

While startled, John doesn't object, arms sliding around the younger man's form, one hand sliding up to the back of his neck to pull him down a little more before he buries his hand in those curls that he dreamt about so often while he was away. Carding his hand through the hair for a moment John soon slides his hand down to Sherlock's neck to rub lightly at the skin there. He gets lost in the kiss as he reassures himself with the taste, feel and smell of his detective. Slowly, he breaks the kiss, licking his lips. "Bloody hell, Sherlock. Three months, and you started smoking again?" He asks with a little chuckle, before he just pulls the other man down into a hug.

Not being able to say anything because of his throat closing up a little from emotion, Sherlock just huffs a quiet laugh, before he slips his arms around John, hands fisting in his fatigues as he hides his face in the shorter man's shoulder and neck. Tears prick the back of his eyes as he clings to the doctor. "John. You're back. You're safe." He whispers into his skin, taking a few deep breaths.

"Ugh. What is this, some kind of bloody soap opera? Get a room, freak." Anderson grumbles, glaring at the two. Even Donovan thinks that's over the line, since she has a few tears in her eyes as she watches the touching reunion. She stares at Anderson in shock, one hand over her mouth as she stares at the other man.

Definitely not in the mood for Anderson's insults, John pulls back from Sherlock for a moment, giving him one, soft kiss of reassurance before he turns and steps toward Anderson. With a quick movement, he pulls his hand back and decks Anderson as hard as he can, sending the other man to the floor. "I am sick and tired of the venom that comes out whenever you open your mouth, Anderson. If I hear one more insult come from your mouth, I swear to God I'll give you worse than a bloody nose." he says before he returns to Sherlock's side, looking up at him with a tender expression. "I hope the case wasn't too pressing, because I'd rather take you home and not let you out of my sight for a while. If that's ok." he says quietly, ignoring some of the shocked expressions around him, and some light applause from those that thought he did a good job.

"It's fine. We can do without him this time, he's given us enough to go on so far. I'll text you if we have any questions, Sherlock." Lestrade says, not even saying anything about Anderson's beat down, thinking the forensics expert was lucky that a punch is all John did.

Sherlock nods a little as he looks down at John, smirking a little as he watches Anderson struggle to get up, his nose gushing blood. "John.." He whispers, reaching out and grasping his hand firmly, meshing their fingers together.

"Take me home, Captain."