.Much thanks to MLC for looking over this for me. :-)

The young Sherlock Holmes' mother and father had always encouraged him to not hide how he felt. Anticipation and excitement, this is what filled his face when he found something new to study. His lower lip was pulled between his teeth and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Mischief would fill his eyes when pulling pranks on his stuffy older brother, delight when reading pirate books with his father and contentment when his mother gave him a good cuddle before bed each night she was able. When their dog, Redbeard, died he felt no shame in crying for their loss.

Soon after Sherlock went off to school, the open looks began to disappear. Classmates were stupid, the curriculum boring and time away from his parents meant the young man began to listen to an emotionally stunted Mycroft more often than not. Expressions were now carefully placed and for a specific purpose. No spontaneity allowed. As he had learned from his brother, it was necessary to keep people at arm's length, since no one could be trusted, not even those he loved.

Then John Watson limped into his life. He wasn't alone anymore, even after the good doctor saw Sherlock at his worst. There was someone fighting by his side, protecting him from those who would do him harm. He didn't hesitate to put Mycroft in his place if the need arose or snap back at Sally Donovan and there were even times when he saved Sherlock from his own dark thoughts.

Right from their first case together, Sherlock had found himself smiling honestly as he hadn't since a child. Leaning against the wall at the foot of the staircase, he had giggled. Yes, it had been brief; thanks to Lestrade's 'drug bust,' but for those few moments a locked away part of the detective had been allowed freedom.

Over the next year it managed to escape quite frequently, this pure creature. At times it appeared while they ate together in a restaurant after a solved case, when they were simply living in 221B and, surprisingly, during their visit at Buckingham Palace. Yes, Sherlock had found a sort of safe haven in the presence of John and he was intelligent enough to realize it. And miraculously, at times John seemed to feel the same way in the quiet moments.

But then came the threat of Moriarty and, being steps ahead of everyone else, Sherlock knew there was too much to lose and this part of him would have to be suppressed once more. Smiles never reached his eyes and he learned that Molly noticed the sadness that filled his face when he looked upon an unobservant John.

During his two years of exile, Sherlock was certain the small part of him was either dead or hiding in the room designated for John. The room he would never allow himself access to in the fear he would start to visit there more and more, when too much was at stake. But when Mycroft made his presence known and announced it was time to go home, that door creaked open a little. It was enough to almost make Sherlock pass out from the overwhelming memories of John that flooded his senses and he couldn't help but smile thinking about seeing his friend once more. Of being home with him again and sharing the realization he had had while away.

Of course it was not to be. He found out John had never truly returned to Baker Street and had become involved with a Mary Morstan. Sherlock was heartbroken to find it was still not safe to share all of himself as he had hoped. Once Moriarty had stood in the way and now Mary took his place. Sherlock had been certain he could convince John of the rightness of returning his love upon his return. Yet now, with a wedding to plan, he felt himself keeping the doors surrounding his heart and soul closed.

John had come a little too close to the truth when ranting at his high friend. Yes, the need for a damaged reputation had been necessary to draw Magnessun's interest but Sherlock had been a little too happy to try and forget his sorrows with the help of a needle. The idea of faking his drug intake, something that wouldn't have been too difficult surrounded by addle brained users, had only briefly entered his mind before being dismissed.

By the time he had removed life from the monstrous blackmailer's body, Sherlock had resolved himself to a very short time spent in the Queen's service. No John, no smiles and no more existence if Mycroft's timeline was correct. His older brother had been right all along. Caring was not an advantage and it was better to keep people at a distance.

Decision made, Sherlock settled into his leather seat, ready to meet his fate. He was surprised to receive a call that would change expected life course and have him returning before he had really even left. Despite being allowed to stay in England, John was still removed in all the ways that mattered.

Work was first again and it was soon determined that the clip of Moriarty was an old one now being used by his former assassin, Sebastian Moran in an attempt to install fear within the general public and rebuild what Sherlock had sacrificed much to dismantle. A few days later, Mary disappeared and it was a frantic John who showed up at Baker Street, begging for help. Unfortunately for John, Mycroft found that not only was Mrs. Watson not pregnant but she had married Moran some years before. It would seem she had believed her spouse to be dead, a hazard in their line of work, but his rebirth had been a temptation she could not ignore.

With Sebastian soon dead, and Mrs. Moran in a secret prison, John was soon back at Baker Street. Knowing it would be disastrous to speak of anything but friendship, Sherlock had, continued to protect himself. Yet, as time went on and John started to heal, there were shadows of what they had shared before. Until one night, a year later, after another insane race through London's streets, the two men were once again giggling at the foot of the tall staircase.

It was almost an exact replica of that evening many years before, Sherlock thought. As they both caught their breath, he waited for Mrs. Hudson to burst out of her flat in distress, telling them there were Yarders upstairs. He glanced toward her door but was immediately distracted by a warm hand that cupped one side of his chin, pulling it down until he was level with John's face.

A soft smile greeted him and soon his friend's lips were soft upon his own. Sherlock breathed sharply through his nose in surprise, his eyes wide. When John pulled back fear started to creep across his features. His mind quickly catching up with the data it had taken in. John thought he'd made a mistake, he realized. Sherlock knew he would be a fool to let the opportunity he had dreamed of many times pass by. He wasted no time cupping John's face within his long fingers and then kissed John thoroughly. As his eyes slid closed in bliss, he could feel a large smile against his skin and he couldn't help but answer it with one of his own.

When John whispered, "I love you," Sherlock took the largest leap of his life. He threw open every locked door guarding his battered heart and soul and entrusted John Watson with the keys.

Sherlock Holmes spent the rest of his life sharing his smiles, giggles, joy, sorrows and love with those who mattered most to him. And if Mycroft was given a few more smacks on the back of the head from Mummy due to his, once again solitary views, well that was just a lovely bonus.

Just to let those who might be reading 'Two Fools' know, I am nearly finished chapter two and have an idea of how chapter three will go.