Author's note: Here we are, the last chapter. More at the end.

I don't own anything, and please review.

He doesn't know what happened, not at first. Then he feels pain in his chest and realizes that he was shot by Moran.

So his friends must have got him to a hospital after all...

That is, until he realizes that he is pain and confused – but, other than this, there is nothing.

No withdrawal symptoms.

Of course, once Mycroft or John or even Greg had told the doctors that he was a cocaine addict, they would have taken the appropriate measures, but still –

Aside from the pain – and he is aware how silly this sounds – he hasn't felt that good in days.

And then he realizes something else.

A shadow in the corner of his eye, coming closer – John.

Not limping. Not broken.

Just as he remembers him.

Which has to mean –

No. Wait for confirmation. Don't theorize without data.

"Sherlock? Are you awake?"

John – his John – obviously hasn't slept or eaten enough for days. There are dark circles under his eyes, and as he turns partially around to glance at the heart monitor, Sherlock can tell that his jumper hides a loss of weight; not too much, but still noticeable.

Then he turns to Sherlock again and looks him in the eyes.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock tries to speak, but fails because he's been intubated, so he makes a noise instead. It's little more than a groan, but it's enough for John to break into a large grin.

"You're awake!"

Again, Sherlock can't say "Obviously", so he rolls his eyes instead, and John laughs a relieved, utterly happy laugh. He squeezes Sherlock's right hand for a moment, then takes a deep breath, but doesn't let go.

"Alright, I'm just going to call the doctors and tell everyone that you're awake..." at the unspoken question in Sherlock's eyes, he answers, "Greg never really left the hospital – he even sent Donavan to a crime scene on her own" and he laughs at the pure terror he can read in Sherlock's glance, "and Mycroft, though he tried to pretend he didn't, spent about as much time here as me and Greg. He would "disappear" for a few hours and claim he had to work, but we know he was just sitting in the cafeteria". John's eyes glitter. "I had to sent Mrs. Hudson home quite frequently; Molly was there too, even Angelo dropped in – and Mike too. But, right now, I think only Greg and Mycroft are there, so I'll tell them and the doctors and – I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere" he jokes, and at a glare from Sherlock he adds, "You scared us all enough. I have the right to make lame jokes – for a while, I'd say." Then he leaves and Sherlock is left with his thoughts.

If John had only mentioned Mycroft and Greg – or is it "Lestrade"? Anyway, he's going to call Lestrade by his first name now, he decides – he couldn't have been sure that he could hope to be where he wanted to be.

But Mrs. Hudson, and Molly, and Mike – and Angelo.

Sherlock is home, and this means that the life as a cocaine addict was purely a dream, something his subconscious came up with (although it certainly offered him valuable insight on his thoughts and feelings, and he can't just forget Mycroft without a purpose, broken John or alcoholic Greg).

He is the world's only consulting detective, and he gave up cocaine years ago.

He's rather sure he hasn't been this relieved in his life. Not even when he came back from the dead.

The doctors and John come back in, and he is pronounced to be "on the road to recovery", whatever that may entail, and Sherlock suspects they only leave so quickly because John keeps giving them intimidating stares.

"Greg and Mycroft will be in any minute" he informs Sherlock just as the door closes behind them, "They went to get a decent cup of coffee for once".

His face grows serious. "Sherlock – do you remember what happened? Do you know why you are here?"

Sherlock tries to shake his head, but it hurts, so he makes a negative sound.

"I didn't think you did – you – " John swallows. "Good God, Sherlock, do you really have to make a habit of falling of buildings while I am watching?"

And, just like that, everything comes back.

They were at the crime scene – Sherlock deduced that only one man had been there and not three, not even two, ruling out the Randalls who only work together, and telling her Ladyship to her face that she was lying, had been beaten by her husband and had a lover – who was the murderer. As John pointed out, it was "a bit not good", but she recovered almost instantly, and, when Sherlock told her that he was rather sure that Lord Brackenstall's death was an accident – he had been hit on the head and fallen so unfortunately that he expired almost immediately – she told them that her husband had come home unexpectedly, when she and her lover were in the dining room. There was a quarrel, and her lover struck and accidentally killed her husband. They then tried to make it appear like a crime committed by the gang of robbers they had read a lot about lately – the search for the Randalls had been widely publicized. They actually thought that the three glasses were a nice touch, forgetting that these days, DNA tests were an important part of forensic evidence.

After she had admitted to all of this, she finally told them with tears in her eyes that her lover was hiding in the attic.

Sherlock stormed off before John or Greg could even tell him to take care.

He and the lover fought – the man was terrified of a murder charge – and in the end, Sherlock ended up falling from the attic room window.

So far so good, but why didn't he wake up for – looking at John's clothes and the stubble on his chin – about four days?

Once again, John reads the unspoken question.

"They gave you the wrong medication – you reacted allergic to it, and for about two hours we weren't sure you'd make it, and then you just wouldn't wake up and..." his voice breaks, and he clears his throat. "But you're awake now, that's what counts. Though never fall off a building again."

Sherlock would love to promise it, but he can't talk, so he settles for a kind of nod, which is enough for John.

The door opens again, Greg almost bursts in, while Mycroft settles for an almost unhurried stride. But only almost.

And it's ridiculous, but Sherlock could start to cry when he realizes that Mycroft is dressed as impeccably as always and carrying an umbrella.

"Sherlock – you never cease to amaze me. Just when I thought you'd shocked me enough for a whole lifetime..." Lestrade shakes his head. "If you do anything like this ever again, I promise you weekly drugs busts." Then he grins. "That said, it's good to have you back".

Mycroft clears his throat. "I can only agree with the last sentence of Inspector Lestrade. Though I would appreciate it you not putting yourself at risk that much in the future."

Yes, everything is back to normal. And while he is still rejoicing over that fact, Sherlock drifts of the sleep amidst his friends.

When he wakes up, John is still sitting at his bedside. "You should try to sleep now and then, you know" Sherlock says, still rather groggily, "I am told it's important for human beings".

John looks up and smiles. "Well, if you tell me that..." Then he grows serious. "I thought I'd lose you – again".

"I know. I'm sorry."

And John looks like he is going to take his hand and squeeze it again, but then he decides to do something different and hugs him out of the blue, and it hurts a little, but Sherlock couldn't care less. They don't need more words. Not in a friendship like theirs.

Needless to say, John almost never leaves the room until he can go home.

Home. 221B Baker Street. Finally.

But before that –

During the next few days, he has constant visitors. After the tube has been taken out, he appreciates them even more, because talking is far more entertaining than lying around in a hospital.

There's Mrs. Hudson, who berates him for half an hour before enveloping him into a hug and crying. She tells him not to worry, she has been taking care of John, he has eaten and slept a little in the days Sherlock spent in the other world – as he now calls it, though he'll never tell anyone about it – and that she'll look after them both once he's been released, though she certainly won't make a habit out of it, because she isn't their housekeeper.

There's Molly, who blushes when she sees Sherlock, and he never thought he'd like to see this one day, but here he is. She blushes even more when she sees Lestrade, though.

He can't help but talk to Lestrade about a few things he never told him about before – before it happened, when he and the Inspector are alone, after he's sent John home to sleep and eat.

"Thank you for keeping me company, Greg" he starts – and realizes immediately that his DI is rather shocked.

"No – no problem, Sherlock. No problem at all."

The DI is of course aware why he jumped, though Sherlock has never told him he was one of the three people whose lives were threatened. He's never told anyone; he's rather sure that John and Mrs. Hudson know they are on the list, so why bother? But remembering alcoholic Greg, he decides to make it clear.

"No, I really appreciate it. Hospitals are so dull", and Greg smiles. "That's why I jumped when Moriarty threatened you, John and Mrs. Hudson, after all – you are not boring" he continues, pleasantly.

Greg needs a moment to comprehend what he just said. Then he blinks and clears his throat and turns away, and suddenly Sherlock is rather sure that Lestrade is suppressing a few tears.

Or not, because when he turns around again, a few tears have escaped. "Sherlock, please don't get me wrong – " He sniffles. Sherlock pretends not to notice.

"Can I hug you? Just once?"

"Sure" Sherlock replies, and they hug, and he's rather glad he told the DI the truth. Then they talk about cases that have turned up after Sherlock fell out of the window.

Angelo comes by too and promises a free dinner for all of Sherlock's friends, once the consulting detective has recovered, and when Sherlock warns him that it may be a rather long list, this time – John, Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly, the Stamford family – he looks pleased.

Mycroft drops in far more often than he would have, once upon a time, and they talk rather pleasantly – without biting or sarcastic remarks.

Mycroft is the one to point it out.

"Sherlock, are you alright? You seem different since you woke up" and for once, his brother is actually caring and not annoyed.

"I'm fine, Mycroft, it's all fine. I've just been thinking..." He trails off.

"Yes?" Mycroft prompts.

"Have you ever wondered what would have happened if – if I'd continued to take drugs?"

Mycroft looks... pained. "I have often wondered what would happen if you relapsed. Not since you met Doctor Watson, though".

Sherlock nods, because there's nothing left to do, and they sit in comfortable silence for a few moments. Then, his brother say, very quietly, "I suppose we would both be rather lonely. But – have you ever thought about it?"

"You're right – I' sure you are right" Sherlock replies. "And, yes – I – I think I can imagine it rather well. It's not important, though".

They leave it at that, and Sherlock thinks to himself that he doesn't need to tell anybody; he doesn't need to think endlessly about it.

It happened, and it made him know a whole different side of himself, and he hasn't had a flashback of his three lost years ever since he woke up, so it's fine. It's all fine.

Mike Stamford is the last one to visit – not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't intrude, and seeing as it's Mike, Sherlock believes him.

And then he tells them – John is by his side, of course, where he belongs – with a happy smile on his face: "Sue is pregnant again. We found out the day after Sherlock's accident" – God Bless Mike, calling it an "accident" – "But we didn't want to tell anyone, well, except for Sue's mother, that is, until Sherlock recovered."

John congratulates Mike, while Sherlock tries to breathe.

He can't have deduced it – he hasn't seen Sue in a few months.

He can't have heard it. Not even while he was unconscious, because Mike didn't want to tell anyone until Sherlock recovered.

So does that mean that, for as long as he walked around in it, at least, the other world was real?

But then he decides it doesn't matter. He is here, where he belongs, in the real world – a CT has been made, so he knows this is the real world – and if it was a supernatural happenstance – so be it.

As long as he's home.

So he smiles and congratulates Mike, and the next day, he can go back to John and Mrs. Hudson and Greg's cases and Mycroft's pestering. And Angelo's dinner, of course, during which he looks around for a moment and wonders when he did acquire that many friends, and thanking whatever immortal being, if there is one, that's looking over human fates, that he chose to give up cocaine all these years ago.

He made the right choice years ago, and if that means that he has to live with memories he'd rather not deal with and almost constant danger and annoying human beings, so be it.

There's nowhere else he'd rather be.

Author's note: I never thought this story would be this long. I never thought this story would get so many reviews and followers. Which is why I decided to write and post it now. You deserve an extra early update. All of you.

I'm rather proud of it – it has taught me a lot about my writing style, how to build up a story, etc.

At first I thought this would be full of angst, but then I realized that's not how I write. I am a glass-is-half-full kind of person, and life in itself is so bitter sweet that I can't help but always look for a little bit of humour, a little bit of levity. I tried to make it even; tears and joy, angst and happiness, fights and bromance – it's all part of who we are.

And, no, I couldn't resist the little hint with Stamford, but, yes, Sherlock is back in the real world – that's what I'm trying to say with "the other world was real while Sherlock was in it". I hope it comes across. I think I have seen Life on Mars too many times – that's an awesome series too, btw.

And, now, I have to ask you guys something. I would love to have a review of every follower, don't worry, I don't expect it; but I want to know how you saw the story as a whole, if there were certain aspects of it that you liked more than others, etc. It would be rather important to me and make my day. Please.

Mind: Your begging is humiliating.

Me: To whom?

Mind: To me.

Me: and what if I don't care?

Mind: Then... We'll write more fanfictions!

Me: ...

Mind: ... That's not really a threat, is it.

Me: No.

Mind: Good then... Watch another episode and read the original stories?

Me: Oh God yes.

Also, I'm going to take a few days' break from writing, don't worry, not too long – just enough to be happy about having finished this story.

I hope each and every one of you has a wonderful day,

Hekate.