After a few hours of unpacking, John returns downstairs, the violin music having long since stopped and honestly the silence is a little unsettling. He knows that Sherlock has a history of doing experiments and of course the violin playing is no surprise. But he never expected the detective to be so quiet, somehow.

When he finally hobbles down the last steps with his cane, John sees the detective sitting at the desk with his laptop open. "I don't suppose you have anything in, should we order take away?" He asks casually as he looks at his flatmate.

A quick glance up from his laptop turns into a slightly more lingering glance as Sherlock looks John over and evaluates him. "Menus." He says as he taps a pile not far from his laptop. Apparently having anticipated that they would not be cooking today. Either that or he's just gotten used to ordering so much that he keeps them in an easily accessible place. Could be either.

John doesn't try and figure out which it is, he merely smiles a little and walks over to look at them. "Order out a lot, do you?" He asks as he looks at the younger man, glad that he can openly admire the way the light from the window frames his profile and sets off the different colors of his hair.

"It's quicker." Sherlock says simply with a small shrug, and then he looks up, green eyes meeting blue as he stares at his doctor for a moment. "Presumably you'll want to have some sort of chat after you order." He observes – correctly – as he turns slightly in his chair to look at John straight on.

"Quick as ever, Sherlock." John says with amusement and a slight smile as he pulls out his cellphone, deciding on a place to order from. The menus are marked up so he doesn't have to guess what Sherlock might want, placing the order before hanging up and returning his cellphone to his pocket. "How is this going to work, then?" He asks, shifting and leaning on his cane slightly.

Considering John for a moment, Sherlock finds he doesn't like sitting down in a more vulnerable position and therefore stands, putting his hands behind his back with one hand clasping the other's wrist. "It would probably be wise not to advertise our relationship. Others would find it distracting in our work and might form ridiculous prejudices. They can't help it, it's what people do." He states, though his tone is clearly derogatory when he mentions 'people'. "As for our private relationship, I see no reason to lay out rules specifically. I imagine it will take some adjustment." he decides as he turns after pacing a few steps away, squaring his shoulders a bit almost as if he expects rejection as he watches John.

Turning a little so that he can watch the detective's progress, John nods a little. "Alright. I'm fine with not advertising our relationship. I think we should be clear that this is a relationship. An exclusive relationship." he says pointedly as he straightens a bit as well, almost an 'at attention' sort of stance, seemingly having forgotten the cane despite the fact that he's still holding onto it.

"Agreed." Sherlock allows with a small nod, his frenetic energy getting the better of him and he turns to step towards the fireplace. "Sleeping arrangements?" He asks almost tentatively and in a more detached tone. He might as well have been asking after John's general health, with the forced disinterest in his tone.

Tilting his head a little to regard the other man, John pauses a moment to think about how difficult this must be for Sherlock. It's not as if the man must have had many relationships, and certainly not serious ones. It's always been clear he doesn't really have friends. So while this may have been difficult for John to wrap his head around it must be equally as difficult for the detective to put himself out there and make himself vulnerable like he is.

Deciding that the distance isn't helping either of them, John walks over to Sherlock and puts his hand on the younger man's arm gently. "It's probably not a good idea for us to sleep in the same bed, Sherlock. I still have my PTSD nightmares, and I don't want to hurt you. Even if you don't sleep very much and even though it would be bloody amazing to wake up next to you.. I can't risk hurting you." he says honestly as he looks into those ethereal blue-green eyes.

Disappointment is the first expression to cross Sherlock's face, even if it's just a brief flicker. Then determination. "I think it would do you some good. I'm well aware of your nightmares and you've already demonstrated that having me nearby when you sleep leads to easier nights for you. Presumably you will want your own space until we become accustomed to each other, but I propose an experiment. We share a bed for a week. My bed, since it's arguably larger than yours. It will also have the added benefit that I agree to go to bed when you do. Which will put me on a more regular sleep schedule. Though I do not promise I will sleep." He releases his arms from behind his back, looking John over for a moment.

"An experiment, huh? You do like those." John says with a little bit of amusement, and as much as he doesn't want to hurt Sherlock, he has to admit that it all sounds perfectly logical. "Alright. But if I end up hurting you..." He trails off, his discomfort with that thought clear.

"Then the experiment will have failed and you can retire to your own room." Sherlock concludes, though his tone makes it clear he doesn't really like that option.

John smiles and nods slowly. "That's sorted, then." He says before he sighs. "You are too bloody tall, Sherlock." he decides as he reaches up, sliding his hand around the back of Sherlock's neck and tangling his hand in the lush curls as he tugs him down a little so they can seal the deal with a kiss. This one more lingering and sensual than those they might have shared in the past.

Having more time to prepare for this one, Sherlock slides one arm around John's waist, fiddling with the fabric of his jumper curiously, while the other merely rests lightly upon his waist. It's the fiddling that probably proves to be a little distracting though as the doctor breaks off contact first, leaving the detective to briefly pout at the loss of contact before leaning back a little.

"What are you doing?" John asks as he glances back to try and see what exactly Sherlock is doing with his hand. Through the fabric it just feels like wiggling or tapping fingers so it's confusing him.

Clearly embarrassed at being caught, Sherlock blushes a little and looks away before he turns his attention back to John. "I've been rather curious what your jumpers are made out of, what they feel like. They always look so soft and fuzzy." he admits as he moves away slightly to more unabashedly run his hands down John's bicep and then back up to his shoulder, feeling the fabric and weave of this particular jumper.

Caught off-guard and surprised, laughter bubbles up from John and he looks down for a moment to try and gather himself, before he looks back up at his detective. Still clearly amused and maybe even a bit mischievous, he catches one of Sherlock's hands and looks at it. "Well.. feel free to feel me up whenever you want." He teases, winking at the younger man and – he thinks – causing him to blush a little bit more. "I like my jumpers to be comfortable and warm, so I suppose most of them are soft." He's never really thought about it before now, but after a moment's consideration, he asks, "Do you like it?"

Clearing his throat to keep his mind from devolving into base thoughts, Sherlock nods. "I do. It suits your strong yet kind personality and makes you appear more approachable and... cuddly." He doesn't really like the word and yet it suits the situation, especially since he finds himself wanting to cuddle with John when he's in those bloody jumpers.

John chuckles again for a moment. "Cuddly? I'll keep that in mind." He reassures, though any further conversation is cut off when the doorbell rings. "That's probably the food." he decides as he looks toward the doorway.

"I'll get it." Sherlock generously offers, but mostly so he can escape from the embarrassing turn that this conversation has taken, quickly grabbing his wallet before he heads to the front door.

While Sherlock does that, John looks around and picks up a newspaper that is sitting next to the red chair by the fireplace, glancing over the headlines for a few moments. "Serial suicides? They haven't asked for your help on this case yet?" He asks in surprise when Sherlock comes back into the flat with the bag of food which he brings to the surprisingly clean kitchen table.

A snort from the detective as he sorts out the food in the bag. "Not yet. Lestrade is being stubborn. I've offered my assistance, but as of yet he has not taken me up on it." No sooner does he finish the sentence than some flashing lights get his attention from the window and in a few long strides he is over pulling the curtain aside. "Looks like there's been a fourth."

John isn't even surprised at this point as he goes over and packs up the take away to put it in the fridge. He may not have spent a lot of time around Sherlock but it's enough to get a read on him, and he knows that fairly soon the detective will be leaving the flat. "Detective Inspector. Good to see you again." He greets Lestrade when he enters the living room about the same time as the older man.

"Captain Watson. Good to see you again as well. Sorry to hear about the injury." He says as he offers his hand to the shorter man for a firm shake.

"There's been a fourth. Where?" Sherlock interrupts the pleasantries as he looks between the two for a few moments, moving back into the room proper a little.

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens." Lestrade responds, not even surprised about the interruption, still slightly out of breath and remembering why he came here, he turns more fully toward the detective. "You know how they never leave notes? This one did."

Face nearly lighting up when Lestrade reveals this information, Sherlock presses his palms together in front of his face, lips pressed against his index fingers as he goes over this new information and fits it in with what he already knows about the case. "I'm not going in your police car. Dr. Watson and I will be right behind." He says, making it clear that John will be his partner/assistant from here on out, even if they aren't making their romantic relationship public, it doesn't mean that he won't be utilizing his doctor's skills.

"Thank you. I'll see you there." Lestrade doesn't even argue, since the last time John was with Sherlock on a case, it seemed to mellow him out and it's clear how good of an influence the soldier has been on the boffin. He nods to John before he turns and heads back downstairs to the police car.

Sherlock gets an almost gleeful smile and leaps in the air once the front door closes, fists clenched triumphantly. "Brilliant! Yes! Ah, four serial suicides, and now a note. Oh, it's Christmas!" he says excitedly as he goes over to start putting on his scar and his coat.

"Maybe best not to be that excited about it, Sherlock. People died, it's a murder scene. It's not decent." John points out as he goes over and grabs his own coat, still rather pleased that Sherlock automatically included him, like they really are partners, a team. But that doesn't mean he's not going to scold Sherlock for his behavior.

"Who cares about decent! The game, John, is on!" Sherlock says excitedly as he swirls on his jacket in a smooth motion and tucks a few things into his pockets before he heads downstairs, leaving John a bit behind.

Closing everything up, John follows after, a bit more slowly with the cane and a little smile on his face as he watches Sherlock standing by the taxi door impatiently waiting for his doctor. Yes, this is going to be an interesting adventure and one that he will definitely have to record, one way or another. He's gotten so used to writing often afterall, he might as well continue to chronicle the adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson.

The end! This is kind of a bittersweet day for me. This is the end of Letters. I have been working on this story for a few months shy of three years now. But it's become pretty clear over the last 6 months that I don't have the motivation or the interest in this story any more to be able to update it. So I have to end it because I don't want to leave this hanging for everyone to wonder where it will go.

Thank you so much, sincerely, to everyone who has followed or commented on this. You all have given me such amazing support ever since this started, I never thought I would write anything that would get such interest from people. This went from just some random idea I had when I just started out writing fanfiction, to an amazing story I never would have predicted. I almost want to print out a copy of this entire story in some sort of binding that I can keep, just as a sort of memory of what I consider my greatest writing accomplishment to date. And I have to admit I don't think it would have survived as long, or I would have kept writing it as much if it weren't for everyone who has reviewed or given me feedback about how much they like this story. It's certainly been ups and downs over the last few years writing this, and this won't be the last fanfic I write for sure. It's just time that I step back, re-center and start a new project.

Again, thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone who reads this. I hope that this is a good enough ending and that it will give you some clues and closure as to what will happen to the boys from here on out. And if there's any story ideas you might have, feel free to send them to me, I don't have any projects right now except for one 00Q idea I came up with a few hours ago. But I really do want to get back to writing for everyone. I hope you enjoyed this epic journey.

As always, Reviews/Comments are welcome!