It's Wednesday so here is my weekly one shot fic. I also realized I didn't post a Ladybird's piece last fall. :-)

Thank you MLC and JAL for looking this over!

Sherlock turned and found a pile of boxes nearby. For the past month, the items had been a regular part of his life and to say the recently retired detective was tired of them was an understatement.

The autumn before, after a grueling case, he and John had stayed for a few weeks at a cottage in Sussex. Neither of them was young as they had once been and both welcomed the change of pace. They spent their days enjoying the sunshine while on walks to the nearby village and beach. Sherlock had been especially excited to find one of the neighbors kept bees. He spent most of the final week of their holiday learning what he could first hand. Michael Rollinsford was a patient man and more than happy to share his knowledge with an appreciative audience.

Back in London, they had found it difficult to go back into their old routines. After only a week, John had brought up the idea of calling to see if the cottage might be available to visit again the following June. He was surprised when Sherlock admitted to having had the same thoughts. A call to the owner during lunch and they found Mr. Parish was about to sell the property. Tired of taking care of it and his own home, and with his wife not in the best of health, the older gentleman simply couldn't manage.

John went over the state of their finances with Sherlock. Being the one who had handled such things, Sherlock having no interest, John had invested his pay from the surgery and the fees from private cases, wisely. He had also made certain they lived comfortably but not extravagantly. This meant they would be set for the rest of their lives if they chose to relocate and purchase the cottage.

In the end, it wasn't a difficult decision to make. With Mrs. Hudson gone, 221 Baker Street had felt less like home despite the kindness of her niece, Amelia, who had moved in to care for her aunt and stayed. Lestrade had retired some years before and his replacement was more than capable. Sherlock had learned over the last few cases that his days of leading the chase physically were over and John often rubbed his aching shoulder when he thought Sherlock wasn't looking.

After purchasing the property, they had hired workers to update certain features of their new home. John wanting it all done before they moved in. There was no point in putting their items into place and then shifting them out of the way. June arrived and the two men were setting out for the cottage once more but this time it was theirs.

In two weeks, all of their belongings were packed and ready to leave London. The night before their departure, Lestrade and Molly had thrown a going away party for them. For the last time, those whose lives had intertwined with Sherlock and John's gathered in 221B. The next morning, while professional movers handed their things into a moving truck, the two couples promised to visit soon. By the end of the day, each box was in its assigned room, the bed assembled and they had gone to sleep just after dinner.

That was ten days before and Sherlock now looked at the three boxes piled near to him with disdain. From his left, he heard chuckling and turned to see John leaning against the door frame.

"No need to try and set them on fire with the heat of your glare. I promise each of those has already been emptied, will be going to the recycling pile in a few minutes and are the absolute last of the mountain of boxes we brought with us."

"You're imagining things."

Knowing Sherlock wouldn't give him the satisfaction of admitting he'd been right, John simply smiled. "Of course, I was."

Sherlock walked over to where they'd placed their chairs and sat down. He looked towards the fireplace and then took in the rest of the room. He gave a sigh as John sat in his own chair. The two men sat in silence until the mantle clock chimed in the new hour.

John decided he had waited long enough. "All right, tell me, what thoughts are circling around in that great brain of yours?"

Fight though he might, Sherlock couldn't help but smile at John's tone. As he went back to his thoughts from moments before though, it faded. "Everything will be different now," he whispered.

A look of understanding crossed his partner's face before he spoke. "It's true, many things have changed. We live somewhere different, will make new friends and will take cases a great deal less than before, but things have been changing for some time."

Sherlock nodded. It was impossible to disagree.

John continued, "Being here will also give us the chance to do things we've wanted for some time now. You'll be able to have your own hives, I'll be able to properly write up all of our mad adventures, we can get a dog and, most importantly, it will take Mycroft longer to bother us out here as long as we ignore our phones."

Their giggles went on until they were wiping tears from their cheeks.

Standing up from his chair, John walked over to Sherlock and held out his hand. Without thinking, Sherlock took it and followed where John led. As they walked down the hallway towards their bedroom, John spoke.

"The most important things will never change. You will continue to be the maddest man I have ever known, I will always love you and those who know us will never be able say one of our names without thinking of the other."

John lay down on the bed and waited until Sherlock had settled before entwining their fingers once more. With a sigh, this one of contentment, Sherlock nestled his head against John's neck. As sunlight filled the room, he started to doze.

"Before you fall asleep, I think I should share one more thing with you."

Sherlock opened his eyes. "What might that be?"

"Look up."

Once he found what John was talking about, he couldn't help but smile again. A tiny body, red with black dots, crawled towards the ceiling corner.

"I wasn't certain we'd be able to see them here."

"I wasn't sure myself," John admitted. "It looks like we can expect hours of entertainment in our new bedroom too. Not sure what it's doing in here this time of year though."

"Clearly the ladybirds in this area are confused."

Chuckling, John agreed. "It would seem so."

"We can put it out the window when it comes down far enough."

John hummed in agreement. Tired, he relaxed and pressed a kiss to nearby curls. Sherlock decided a nap was the perfect way to celebrate the end of their unpacking. He breathed in John's scent, murmured an 'I love you' and smiled when John only managed to repeat the first two words before starting to snore. Sherlock fell into sleep and dreamed of the many adventures he and John still had to look forward to together.