/Epilogue\

Sherlock practically hauled John up the stairs to their flat. He was buzzing with a post-case high, and absolutely bound and determined to focus that energy on the exhausted doctor. The man was dead on his feet as they entered the flat, though he did attempt to protest when Sherlock shoved him down into his chair.

"I'd really rather go to b-"

"Hush John, I'm trying to think." Sherlock cut in.

Now, what did John normally do to relax when he was tired? Tea! Of course, how had he not thought of it sooner?

"You just sit right there John, I'm going to make you some tea!" He said, flashing an excited smile before he dashed off into the kitchen. Right, making tea. Should be easy enough. He'd been in the kitchen just the other day when john was making some. He rewound his memory to that moment and took note of the required step. Heat the water, poor into mug over teabag. John takes a touch of milk. No sugar. He set to work.

When it was done, he brought it back out to John, who had apparently fallen asleep in the chair while Sherlock had been busy in the kitchen. Well that wouldn't do. How can I take care of John if he's asleep? The answer was obvious. Wake him up. He gave Johns shoulder a firm shake and John startled awake.

"I made you tea John!" He pronounced, holding the cup out with pride.

"hmm? You made…tea?" John asked groggily, instinctively taking the cup from Sherlock. He took a tentative sip, then looked up at Sherlock. "Thanks."

"Not a problem John. Not a problem. I can take care of you, you know. Despite what Donovan and Anderson seem to think. Idiots. Can you believe the Yarders hadn't believed me about Mr. Swanson? I mean, it was obvious! Didn't they even look at his shirt sleeves! And that callous on his hand! A dead give-away…" And just like that, Sherlock was off on a rant. John tried to follow, but his eyes kept drooping, only to be shocked back open every so often by a particularly loud exclamation from his barmy roommate.

Eventually, Sherlock had ranted and paced himself into a slightly less manic mood, and he had the thought to look at the time. He was shocked to see it had become rather late.

"John! It's gotten so late! You really ought to have gone to bed ages ago! What were you thinking staying up like this after your incident at the crime scene?" He reprimanded.

"But Sher-" John stammered.

"No, now no fussing, you're heading to bed, and that's that." Sherlock interrupted, taking the mug out of John's hands and hoisting him onto unsteady feet. He immediately set about bustling the harassed man up the stairs to his room. Once there, John tiredly stripped down to his pants, and practically fell onto the bed.

Sherlock was rather impressed with himself when he remembered to pull up the covers over John. His blogger would be much more comfortable that way. Then he turned out the lights and headed back downstairs. John was asleep before he reached the light switch.

Sherlock was very pleased with himself as he settled into his thinking pose for the night. He'd certainly taken exemplary care of his army doctor. What would he do without me?

A/N Just a little bonus chapter! Poor John, Sherlock's 'help' can be a little, well, unhelpful at times…

So, I figured this fic was finished, but the fantastic Januscars requested more, and who am I to say no? haha so this is for you JC!

Hope you all enjoyed it :) Review and let me know!

Actually done for real this time…I think…oh who am I kidding? Nothing I write is ever really non-negotiable-y done! lol