This is a collab fic! It was written by me, Elisabeth, and a girl I met named Brittany. Brittany wrote the dialogue for John and I wrote the dialogue for Sherlock and then I wrote the narrative bits in. Please leave us reviews letting us know what you think and whether or not you'd like to see more Sherlock stuff from us, Thank you! 3

It all started with one, simple, anonymous question: "Are you my mommy?". John Watson was on his laptop, it was 6:48 pm and he was browsing through his usual websites: his own personal blog, a website dedicated entirely to adorable kitten videos, and, of course, the website that previously belonged to Sherlock Holmes. John typed the URL in and sighed heavily as the page loaded.

It had been just over three years since his best friend, flatmate and partner, Sherlock Holmes, had committed suicide by jumping from a building. The funeral had been rough but nothing could compare to the years after. Every day since Sherlock's death had been spent trying to patch the holes left behind when he died. He was lonelier than he could ever remember being. It seemed like life offered nothing for him anymore. In a hopeful quest for answers, John had searched the flat and everywhere he could possibly think to find clues for why Sherlock had left, maybe it was all some big misunderstanding. But all he ended up finding were tons of boxes of nicotine patches and one or two severed fingers which were properly disposed of by his new employing hospital's mortician. John had ruefully packed the nicotine patches into boxes in a storage unit.

Now, every night he sat on his blog and Sherlock's website, wishing hopelessly that something would pop up, a clue or... anything! He also, of course, had a tab open with never-ending kitten cuteness, for when re-reading Sherlock's writing and his writing got too overwhelming. But tonight was different, tonight- for the first time in 3 years, 2 months and 18 days, there was a new post on Sherlock's website. It was an anonymous post, a question. Sherlock used to get lots of those and he would, miraculously, answer every single one he received, no matter what. The question was "Are you my mommy?" And under it, in the space where Sherlock always replied was, "No. I'm no one's mummy, in fact. -SH". John laughed lightly and clicked on the comment box below the post.

"Well, that's a relief -JW" he responded, using the signature he had always used since he had seen Sherlock sign all his messages with "SH". Suddenly, a comment popped up under his...

"Are you, John? -SH". It hit John... out of nowhere. "SH"... SH... Sherlock Holmes. That was Sherlock's old signature! Wait... who else could have the password and ability to get onto Sherlock's personal website other than... He clicked the comment box again.

"Wait! Sherlock! You're alive! -JW". He held his breath and waited, 30 seconds, 50 seconds, a whole minute, 3 minutes, 4 minutes, 5 minutes. Finally, after 7 minutes and 49 seconds, his phone buzzed. He gasped and snatched it up, it read "New Message: Sherlock Homles" He hadn't had the heart to delete Sherlock's number after his suicide.

John took a deep breath then opened the message, "Yes, I suppose it's due time for you to find this out. -SH". John was hit with the realization of all of this. Sherlock was alive, but he hadn't even bothered to let him know, but he was OK! John replied to the text,

"Due time to-" he stopped, suddenly overcome with a burning rage, he continued, "It's BEEN THREE BLOODY YEARS! Where the sodding hell have you been! -JW". He glared angrily at the phone, waiting for Sherlock's response. When it came, it was surprising. John didn't know what he had expected to hear but this was not it:

"I've been... busy. Couldn't bother myself to leave notes everywhere for everyone I've ever known so they could know where I am. -SH". John grew even angrier with every reply. He punched the next message into his phone, furious that Sherlock thought this way.

"Couldn't bother to leave notes? Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea what I've been through? -JW". He sent the text then added, as an afterthought: "I'm not 'everyone you've ever known' Sherlock... I thought I meant more to you than that. But no, not the great, bloody, brilliant, Sherlock Holmes, no. -JW". There, John thought, let him feel terrible for once in his life. At least, John hoped he felt bad about all of this. The reply came, this time more welcomingly than before.

"John, no, don't be ridiculous, you were both the first and last person I wanted to inform but I honestly couldn't tell you. -SH" John thought carefully after receiving this one but another soon followed: "Please believe me when I tell you that you couldn't know I've been in Africa all this time. -SH". John sighed, he obviously couldn't remain mad at Sherlock for long, this was probably going to be the best day of the last three years of his life. For christ's sake... Sherlock was alive! He replied again, this time he felt a tug on his heartstrings as he expressed his simple, sole, thought.

"I've missed you, Sherlock -JW" He felt like he couldn't be more obvious but there wasn't much else he could think about right now. All he felt was the burning relief of all the days and weeks missing him just flooding out of him.

The reply was borderline sassy but sincere, nonetheless: "I've missed you too, more than I'd care to express in words even. But I have, my relentless blogger keeps me grounded -SH" John's face twisted into a rueful smile. Sherlock always prodded at his blogging but never specifically expressed views of wanting him to stop so John never had. Not even Sherlock was gone.

He chose his next words carefully: "My life has been so dull without you. -JW" He didn't want to just sit there and feed Sherlock's ego, he was still a bit irked that it had taken Sherlock three years to notify him of his being on a whole different continent. That thought sparked a few new questions in John's mind: "Why are you in Africa? When can you come home to Baker Street? -JW". He held his breath and hoped for a good answer.

"I've been unwinding Moriarty's network here for the past two and a half years. The first 6 months, I re-wrote my entire identity. -SH". The answer startled John and he immediately wondered if Sherlock was okay, had he ever needed John's help? Before he could ask another text came in, this one much nicer to hear: "I'll be home sooner than you think. It's too hard waking up every morning without you for me to keep this up too much longer -SH" John smiled softly and felt the pang in his heart as he realized how much he just wanted to be held by Sherlock at that very moment.

"I can help you, Sherlock -JW" He offered, he knew Sherlock didn't totally love it when John figured out when he was in need of someone. But this was different, he hadn't seen or held him for over three years. He didn't care what Sherlock thought at this point: "Tell me where you are. I'll come to you. Wherever it is. -JW". He grimaced at how cliche and desperate that sounded but he meant it and all he wanted was proof, he wanted to see Sherlock and know this was all real.

He was soon disappointed, greatly, with the answer. "No John, you can't I'm sorry but not this time. -SH". John wasn't surprised but he wasn't pleased either, and what came next didn't do much to help. "Your dedication is outstanding. But I can't have you come here now. -SH". Dedication! He wasn't merely Sherlock's faithful lap dog! Who did Sherlock think he was? Acting like he had John on some leash and could just call him up when he needed him and when it was convenient for him?

His resentment rang out in the next text he sent: "Sherlock, do you have any bloody idea what you're asking? I saw you jump off a building. I buried you for christ's sake. Now you're alive and you're telling me to just sit and bloody wait? -JW" He knew being cross with Sherlock wasn't the way to get himself understood but he couldn't help it. He felt so useless and helpless. He needed to see Sherlock and knowing that he was off in Africa, apparently busy (which for Sherlock always entailed danger), was scary and John didn't like being scared. The answer came slowly but it came in the form of 5 consecutive texts that seemed to magically soothe John's mind.

"Don't you see John? -SH" John was confused until the next one came in: "I suppose not... your deducing skills are compromised when you let emotion get in the way... -SH" John was about to protest but realized Sherlock was right, besides, Sherlock had more to say, "I'll just tell you. It's too dangerous. If there's one thing I'll never do it's make you risk your life over something I'm not even sure I can accomplish. -SH" John started to feel tears well up. This wasn't fair. Why could Sherlock put his life on the line and leave John utterly useless and in the dark but John couldn't even help? The answer came quickly, "I'd rather die a million times, fake or not, just to see you well and alive. -SH"

John felt his breath catch in his throat. He knew Sherlock was protective of him but this was plain crazy. Was he really willing to give his life for John? "Sherlock, don't you see that I'd rather fight and die by your side than sit here waiting and not knowing? -JW" And he meant it too. He wasn't prepared to sit around for another 3 years, not knowing if Sherlock was dead or alive, in danger or not, whether he was still breathing. "I just got you back. I don't think that- I don't think that I could lose you again. -JW" Now John was actually crying. He knew it was true, too. He couldn't bear to even imagine losing Sherlock again. He had just passed the three hardest years of his life alone and scared. He didn't feel a purpose in his life anymore and now suddenly everything was rushing back to him. Just talking to Sherlock, hopefully he wasn't dreaming, he felt invigorated, less tired, and he knew now that he had to keep things up for Sherlock. Be ready for him to come home and not look like a complete mess.

"Oh John. I'm so so sorry to put you through all of this -SH" He looked at the phone surprised, this was the third time Sherlock had actually apologized so far. He started to wonder if it really was him... "What actually have you been doing these past years? -SH"

John calmed himself down, stopped this crying business and thought of a good answer to the question. He tried to keep his answer sounding not too desperate: "Working. I got a job at a surgery. Lestrade calls me in to consult on cases sometimes. He says you rubbed off on me, but it's not the same. It's not the same without you. I've just been trying to survive. I've missed you so damn much. -JW" Well... he had started strong but eventually the truth came out and his weakness was revealed. He could feel Sherlock smirking at the "rubbing off" part and couldn't help but smile, too. "I would go and visit your grave sometimes... -JW" He admitted carefully. "Say the things that I wished I had said when you were alive -JW". He sighed, remembering those grave-side trips, every tuesday and friday, actually.

"That's slightly unsettling. What kinds of things? I've written letters to you that I could never have sent but they work essentially in the same way. -SH" John was surprised, he didn't peg Sherlock as the kind to write letters and not share his opinion after going through all the trouble of writing them out. He paused for a bit, unsure how to answer the question about what he said. "You can tell me John. I have more good news for you, as well. -SH" John sighed, obviously the deal was talk and you get your good news. He laughed a little, same old Sherlock.

John took a deep breath and told Sherlock the things that, even though he had wished he'd said them in life, seemed to fight his brain now, not wanting to escape his mouth. "Somehow it was easier to say them to your grave... that you were a great human being, that you were an idiot for leaving me. I asked you for a miracle, once... to come back just for me... -JW" He started simple, nothing too big. Then, he bit his lip as he typed out and sent the shocker, "I told you once that, well, that I loved you. -JW" He winced as the message sent but then chose to send a cushion one so that maybe Sherlock would miss the last text. "And that I would never have believed that you lied to me -JW". He waited in intense silence for the answer.

When it came it wasn't what John had expected, at all. In fact, it was entirely unrelated. "I'm coming home within 24 hours, John. -SH" "I just got off my first flight from Africa, I couldn't wait any longer to tell you. I'm in Miami on a layover. -SH" John felt relief flood his veins, somehow more than when he learned that Sherlock was simply alive. This relief was beautiful, it gave him a feeling intense hope. Sherlock was close, his best friend and companion was coming home to him. The emptiness would go away, he would have someone to fuss over, Lestrade's cases wouldn't deem as hard with Sherlock taking the reins once again, and his life wouldn't have another dull moment. In that instant John decided this would be the very last time Sherlock ever walked out on him. Ever. He reminded himself to make that clear to Sherlock.

His response was simple, "Are you serious? -JW" he suddenly found it hard to believe. He couldn't accept that Sherlock, the one reason he was still living in 221b, the man who caused him to leave Sarah, and the one person who he trusted with everything (including his life) and who he could never seem to stay mad at for long, was going to finally be back with him. Three years didn't seem to short and yet now he realized that if Sherlock were back for good, they were most definitely worth it.

"How often do I lie to you? -SH" If Sherlock had been there, saying it John's face, John probably would have glared at him, maybe even yelled. Was he fucking kidding right now? He seemed to realize it, too, with his response: "Never mind, that probably wasn't a good question seeing as I just pretended to die for three years. -SH"

John sighed and replied simply to avoid getting too angry with Sherlock, he was still the happiest he'd been in 3 years and he wasn't about to ruin it over a bad Joke Sherlock had made. "Exactly. -JW"

"Uh... Well... I'm 100% serious. I couldn't stand it any longer, I need to see you and be with you again, John. -SH" This was the first time all night that Sherlock had seemed to falter at all. He must have actually felt bad about the bad joke after all.

John settled back into the couch, contentedly. "I can't believe that this is real, Sherlock. That you're alive. That you're coming home. -JW" He realized that he had been thinking this all night but he had never really articulated it until now. It felt good to get that out. He realized it might sound as if he still was disbelieving so he added, "But this is the happiest I've been in three years. -JW" That's perfect, exactly what he was looking to say. He smiled, thinking of all the things he would finally be able to tell Sherlock about when he got home.

Sherlock's reply made him laugh harder than anything so far that night: "Of course it's real. Nothing was ever the same without you. Make sure there's some milk at home for me? -SH" John was happy, this was good, it felt routine.

"Haha, same old Sherlock. -JW" He replied. And it was true, too. Sherlock always wanted there to be a full gallon of milk in the flat. The familiarity of it all was comforting and John was relaxed and happy. Of course, talking to Sherlock, that never really lasted long...

"And uh... the police didn't go through the flat or anything, did they? -SH". This question was startling for John. What on earth could Sherlock possibly be afraid of the police finding in the flat. Obviously other than the severed human body parts. But he couldn't be referring to those, he had used up his last supply of fingers the week before his "death".

John questioned, cautiously, this request. "Why are you concerned about the police having gone through the flat, Sherlock? -JW" He knew he wasn't going to love the answer, but he knew he probably needed to hear it.

"Um... Well I suppose you deserve all the answers I can possibly give you right now ... -SH" John rolled his eyes.

"That would be good, yes. -JW", he replied.

"I have some... helpful things... stored in hollow hiding places throughout 221b. -SH" John sat, thinking, a moment longer. "Thinking aids and such... -SH" John finally came to the realization. Sherlock was talking about the nicotine patches he had found in his scour of the apartment. Those weren't great hiding places, as he recalled.

He found out why in the next string of texts that answered his question: "And by thinking aids you mean... -JW"

"Oh nothing much, the usual nicotine patches...-SH" John nodded, his suspicions were confirmed and he was glad he had kept the patches. "Morphine... -SH" What. "Maybe just a small little tiny bit of another helpful substance but nothing terribly harmful, if you're me...-SH" Oh god, was he referring to cocaine. John feared Sherlock had gotten back into hardcore drugs and would have asked but instead the morphine scared him even more, Sherlock always came closer to OD-ing on Morphine than Cocaine... somehow. God help him if he could figure it out. Maybe Sherlock was just stupidly clever enough to avoid getting anywhere close to the amount of Cocaine it would take him to OD.

Still, John was furious. "Sherlock! You're coming home for the first time in three years and your first concern is to make sure that you have a supply of Morphine handy! Bloody hell. -JW".

"I've managed to run out here. -SH". This made John wonder how much Morphine Sherlock had managed to pack off with him to Africa and if he'd been dangerous with it. The next text answered that question: "I actually had quite a scare. Needed my doctor with me at one point. -SH" John sighed...

"Well I would have been with you if you hadn't faked your own bleeding death, wouldn't I? -JW" he had gotten started and he wouldn't stop until he had relayed his message once again. The one Sherlock always chose to downplay. "We've been over this before- recreational drugs are not good. And I don't care how much they 'stimulate your mental faculties.' -JW". He knew it would just go right over Sherlock's head again but he thought it was worth a shot.

"I don't think you understand until you've actually tried it, John -SH" John sighed and let his head rest on his hand briefly before starting his response. Before he could finish, Sherlock sent another text: "John? Did you mean it? -SH".

John was confused but he sent his other message anyways and then thought about the second one more. "Sherlock, I'm a doctor and I was an army surgeon. I've seen people die from your definition of thinking aids. I don't want that to happen to you. -JW". He spent a little bit thinking about the second text but then realized it could mean any number of things so he just chose to be simple and ask. "Did I mean what, Sherlock? -JW"

"Earlier, when you were telling me what you had said at my... 'grave' -SH" John waited, it wasn't like Sherlock not to elaborate. Sure enough: "You mentioned something that, incredibly just registered. -SH"

John couldn't even be bothered to point out how vague of a statement this was "Umm... well, I said a lot at your 'grave', Sherlock. -JW". He chose to keep it simple and be even vaguer than Sherlock.

It proved worth being vague because Sherlock actually bothered to explain something to him, flat out. "I'm sure if you looked back at what you mentioned only one or two would register in surprise with me. -SH" John was slightly amused with the oh-so-familiar tone of annoyance in Sherlock's text. "But I'll make it simple for you -SH" This was much better, John hardly had to do any thinking. He was pretty sure he was still in shock, which wasn't helped much by the next couple of minutes. "'I told you once that, well, that I loved you. -JW' This, John. Did you mean this? -SH" John's heart skipped a beat as he realized that Sherlock had directly quoted him. He blushed a deep, flushed red.

He wondered how to play this all out. Should he make light of it? Make it seem like he only meant as friends? But he didn't. So his answer reflected his thoughts exactly: "Well, um... sod it all, yes, of course I meant it. -JW" John felt a huge weight being lifted off his chest. Then it was all dropped back on again as he realized what he just committed to. What would happen if Sherlock rejected this open-ness from John? What if he poked fun at him for it. What if that wasn't the way to go about it at all?

"I'm incredibly glad to hear that. -SH"

Nothing could have felt better than this moment right now. He had finally gotten Sherlock to open up. This was Sherlock, who he was. And John... John loved him for it and somehow, for some reason... Sherlock was okay with it. The only thing that could be better than this...

"You are?- JW" John asked, not eager to ask the question that actually burned in his mind. "Because I believe I've head you say that you're 'married to your work' on numerous occasions. -JW" John waited with bated breath for the answer to this. Even if it wasn't completely what he wanted to know. Baby steps, this was already amazing.

"You have. But work doesn't return your affection -SH" John was taken aback, was the affection here mutual? "And you don't fear that you'll wake up one morning and your work will have left you -SH" John felt his heart lift. Wait, did Sherlock have some idea in his head that John would just up and leave one day? John knew that he would never leave, not now, not ever. Especially now. He grinned and re-read the texts many times through to make sure he understood right.

Then, he took the first treacherous step out onto the edge. One wrong step and this could get awkward. "Sherlock, are you saying what I think you're saying? -JW" There. He had it out there. Now all he could do was wait for an answer.

It wasn't much help. "John, I have beyond sensational deduction skills but I can not read your mind -SH" John scoffed, obviously this must be so blaringly apparent it was gross. How could Sherlock, the king of observations, not realize this!

John decided the only way was to spell it out for him: "Are you sure about that ... Sherlock, are you saying that you, well, that you love me, too? -JW" John squeezed his eyes shut. He felt like a silly teenage boy, waiting for that text from the girl he likes. Hoping to God that she likes him too, that this wont totally ruin their relationship. But he knew this was different, he had a connection with Sherlock that he had never felt with anyone, ever. He'd never been so familiar with someone else and he'd never tolerate actions like Sherlock's from anyone else.

He also knew that he'd never feel this way for anyone else. This was his last shot. If Sherlock turned on this and decided to be emotionless, not only would John be in the awkward place of living with the man he had basically came out of the closet for (he knew he was gay and that leaving Sarah was the right thing to do when it happened) when that man didn't hold the same feelings for him the way he did. Now that all this was on the line, there was no turning back. If things didn't work out John would leave, find a place of his own, go to work every day and hope and pray he and Sherlock never crossed, that he could all but forget about everything that had happened.

He soon found that he had nothing to worry about, however, the text from Sherlock finally came: "I... I am, John -SH" John felt the beautiful feeling of relief rush through him yet again, tonight. But there was more, oh was there more. "I wouldn't very well be giving up on Moriarty after three years to return to you if I didn't feel incapable of continuing without constant contact with you, I need my Blogger Doctor -SH"

John could only think of one thing to say at this point: "Oh, God, Sherlock, you've no idea how much I've wanted to hear you say that. -JW"

The answer was equally as satisfying yet at the same time, heartbreaking. "I've been waiting for a long time to say it. Just over three years, in fact -SH" John felt the pang in his heart again, "that's why I left, of course -SH" But all of this seemed so backwards to John. If Sherlock loved him... why would he just leave him like that.

He decided to make Sherlock promise the same thing he had promised himself earlier. "Sherlock, you need to promise me... promise me that you will never ever do something so bloody idiotic again, all right? I don't think I could live if I lost you. -JW" John needed to hear him promise. And mean it.

"I promise John, I'll at least drop a note next time I die and whisk myself off to Africa. -SH" John winced.

"That's not funny, Sherlock. -JW" These awful jokes... humor really wasn't his thing.

"Sorry. I've realized now that humor doesn't really suit me... -SH" Damn right it didn't, John thought. He really hadn't helped much with that statement but John knew he was serious about it at heart. For the first time since he'd known Sherlock, he felt perfectly confident using the phrase "at heart" about Sherlock.

"Well thank God for that. -JW" No more humor for him, John thought. "And the next time you go to Africa, I will be right there with you because you're bloody well not allowed to leave my sight anytime soon. -JW" He was playing this helicopter mom role out to it's fullest. Anything to keep his wonderful detective close to him, always. No more losing him.

Sherlock's answer finalized everything: "I wouldn't dream of it, John. -SH" John nodded once, smiling, now. "You sure there's milk in the flat, though? -SH" It amazed John what a one-track mind Sherlock could have sometimes... "Also, if you think you're risking your life you're crazy and wrong. Just so we're clear -SH" John wanted to argue this one but thought it was better suited for when they were together, in person.

"Yes, Sherlock, milk, tea, and nicotine patches. -JW" John made a mental note to pick up the nicotine patches from storage tomorrow so they'd be here when Sherlock finally came home. The idea alone made him grin broadly.

"So I take it you found the Morphine and other... stuff. Damn -SH" John laughed.

"Well there was a lot of time to look. -JW" He chose to pretend to have found the stuff because maybe then Sherlock wouldn't even attempt to use it, wild hopes and dreams, John was sure. "Thankfully, I found most of it, not the police. I, well, I rather searched through the flat trying to see fi you'd left behind any clues as to why you would have... done what you did. -JW" He felt bad lying to Sherlock but it wasn't entirely a lie.

"I'm so sorry, John -SH" And John knew it, "I really had hoped you would have just forgotten about me, continued your life and kept good care of 221b -SH" John was appalled, who did Sherlock think he was talking to? John couldn't believe he thought he would just let him go like that...

"Sherlock, how could you ever think that that would be even remotely possible? -JW" He was genuinely surprised, "You're supposed to be a genius. Couldn't you see how important you were to me? How could I ever forget you? -JW" He hoped Sherlock could see things the same way he did.

"I was hoping you'd overlook that, hoping maybe I was wrong about how you felt for me -SH" John was shocked. Did he mean...

"You were hoping that I didn't love you? -JW" This was ridiculous... what was John supposed to think? "Sherlock Holmes, sometimes you are such a bloody idiot. -JW" He knew it wasn't his fault. Sherlock had no experience with love, he didn't know what it was like and he didn't know, quite yet, what it entailed. If John was being perfectly honest, he was probably afraid of it. But John knew he'd warm up to everything soon. He just wanted him back.

"Only because I didn't want you to be as hurt when I inevitably screwed up. Or.. in this case... "died" -SH" Then he had to reply to John's second text, "I'll take that one. I'm pretty sure I deserve it. -SH"

John grimaced, "Well I would say that you managed to screw up and die in one. And I'm pretty sure you deserve to be punched squarely in the jaw. -JW"

"Fortunately, you won't have to wait long... -SH" John was happier with this news, he knew it was only a matter of time before he held Sherlock tight, and this time, he wasn't letting go. "I'll welcome it, just this once. -SH" John laughed, Sherlock was referring to the punch. The next text all but made John's heart stop: "P.S. I lied for the last time... I promise, but it was a good lie... I was in Miami two days ago, I expect in about 20 seconds a knock will come at your door, Mrs. Hudson, it'll be... she'll inform you of my arrival back in London. You'll find that's useless information as I'm upstairs, sitting on your bed with my violin, missed this thing... Surprise! -SH" John smiled broadly and couldn't stop. Sherlock was here! Near him. He suddenly felt elated, so much better than he had in ... Three years. A knock came at the door, he opened it, smiled at Mrs. Hudson and nodded, understandingly. She hugged him tightly around the neck then shooed him off, wordlessly. She needed no explanation.

John whipped out his phone and texted Sherlock again, "Sherlock, I will forgive you for this lie, only because it's the best thing ever heard in my life. -JW" And it was. John laughed in glee, forgetting that he had the capability of going to see Sherlock right away. He was soon reminded, however, as Sherlock was restless and getting impatient.

"Well, John, it's been three damn years. What are you waiting for? Get up here. -SH" John didn't need telling twice.

"On my way! -JW" He responded.

He didn't see it because he was bounding through the flat and up the stairs. He stopped outside his bedroom door and read: "Now that's the best thing I'VE heard in three years. -SH"

John grinned widely and texted Sherlock one last time, unsure if he was ready to do this yet "I love you so bloody much. -JW" His infectious grin took up his entire face as the text sent.

He put his hand on the doorknob and was about to turn it but got another text, mid-motion. "I love you too, John Watson -SH" The knob turned in his hand and was yanked inward. John looked up from his phone into a pair of the most beautiful and sparkling, piercing blue eyes.