Guys… I am SO sorry. I started college this past week, so I've been super busy in addition to not being able to connect to the Internet. I swear I started getting actual, Tony-Stark-legit anxiety. I hope this chapter makes up for it… I know a lot of you want this story to continue as long as it can, but I think we should leave these guys in peace. The poor bastards deserve a happy life … C'era una volta

A couple weeks later, Sherlock was walking the halls arm-in-arm with his doctor. Slowly.

A couple months later, he had John on his toes, guarding the energetic genius from escaping.

John switched from his job in the coma ward to being Sherlock's caretaker… which was helpful, since the first thing Sherlock did was insult the physical therapists. In fact, as the months passed, John's role became indescribable. He stood by his patient's side in a way even Sherlock's dreams couldn't predict. Dr. John Hamish Watson, caretaker, friend, admirer, counselor, mediator, supervision…

Once Sherlock had recovered enough to leave the hospital (and once Mycroft let him), he was suddenly faced with the realization that returning to his old apartment would lead to relapse, which would kill him. The new friendship (was it ever anything so simple?) with John gave him a reason to care.

"John… I – I need to talk with you. Preferably without my brother listening in."

"Oh. Um, does he have the place bugged?"

"Yes. He always does that."

"Oh. Well, that's disturbing. Let's go sit in a corner of the cafeteria. It won't be busy right now."

"Alright. And, no, I will not eat something."

"Yes, you will. I'm your doctor, remember?"

"Agh. Why do I like you again?"

"Erm, you're delusional and I'm adorable?"

"Dear God…" Sherlock, of course, could not read minds, and John was eternally grateful for that.

[I don't hear you denying I'm adorable. Shut up, you lovesick git. Never. Why bother? He'll always be gorgeous and brilliant. There's no escaping it. But what does he need to talk about?]

Sherlock' serious expression made John nervous as they sat at an isolated table.

"So… what's wrong?"

"I'll be released soon."

"Yes, you're doing well, and your brother seems to be letting up some."

"I can't – I can't go back, John."

"What? Oh – your old place? That's right… It's near dealers and crime rings, isn't it?"

"Extremely. I don't suppose there's anything you can do, John. I just – I needed to talk with someone about it."

"Well… I – I could – We could – I mean – We could get a flatshare..." John's face turned red as Sherlock stared at him in open shock. "Er – it's just – we get along – and I'm your doctor – and – "

"That's perfect."

"Really?"

"Yes! It would never work with anyone but you, John Watson, but yes." They grinned at each other, and the future looked brighter than it had in years.

"This is Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. Lestrade, this is my friend Doctor John Watson."

"Friend… okay. Well, scene's over here." He walked off.

"You'll have to amend that introduction, Sherlock."

"Why?" For an answer, John just smirked and reached up to kiss him. "Oh… Good."

Here's to the adventures they haven't had yet. May there be many, and may they be happy in the end.