We'll be counting stars

It was the neighbor

Flashback:

Sherlock raced inside, John close at his heels to the crime scene, bedsides sargeant Donovan holding them up as she warned John to keep away from him, "too late" John thought, as they sped past her and up the many levels of stairs leading to the flat with police tape across the entrance and Lestrade at the door.

"Details Lestrade?" Sherlock asked quickly, stepping through to be lead by Lestrade into the sitting room with the cold concrete floor from where the carpet had been taken up.

As the details flowed from Lestrade's mouth Sherlock dropped to the floor besides the victims, inspecting minute details that no one else could possibly have seen, or as Sherlock said "details overlooked because they were seen as unimportant"

After a while Sherlock excitedly exclaimed getting up off the floor and rushing out the flat to next door, the meighbor sat on his sofa tapping his foot anxiously.

"Where were you the day before yesterday at around five pm?" Sherlock questioned the man, he was in his twenties like Sherlock himself but Sherlock was much more intimidating and wasn't scared of a brawl.

"I was at the pub with friends, night out" the man said, he didn't miss a beat and he said it so quickly that after Sherlocks interrogation Sherlock gave Lestrade all the evidence he needed Lestrade soon had his team carrying the man in the back of a police car for having committed murder.

"He was literally red handed, blood specs from his rifle where he'd sliced his finger on the sharp metal trigger of his rifle that be shot through their window, some sort of jealousy act, seeking revenge, etcetera etcetera." Sherlock said in a rush, barely stopping to breathe.

"That was-- amazing, absolutely just-- amazing" John said awed and wide eyed at Sherlock.

"You really think so?" Sherlock asked, doubtful, as they walked out to hail a cab.

"Of course it was, that was just--wow" John said, at a loss for words.

That's not what people normally say" Sherlock mumbled.

"What do they usually say?" John asked with a smile as if he knew what the answer was already.

"Piss off."

John chuckled and Sherlock began giggling next to him until they were closing the gap in the middle of the cab so they could lean their bodies against each other breathless from laughing and the aching of their chest and ribs unbearable but in the best way.

Sherlock smiled so much his cheekbones hurt and John honestly had never seen such a genuine smile on anybody before and he couldn't help but respond in the same way until they started laughing again.

Sherlock decided he would take John on more cases, all of them if he could, Johns opinion although sometimes pointing out the obvious he also pointed out things that face a new viewpoint to Sherlock slowing to new ideas he hadn't considered before that.

They made it back to the flat and drank coffee and the night wore on, nighttime was always Sherlocks favorite, it hid the damage of London and showed it in a new perspective, just like Sherlock loved the rain, the gentle patter against skin and windows, droplets forming on smooth surfaces and he just loved the whole way it made light glimmer and shatter as if it could be broken.

Sherlock realized something, it was the beginning of a new era for both him and the doctor, one that they didn't want to end.