The Final Chapter

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*John POV*

I look over into the passenger seat, where Sherlock is passed out with Honeycomb. We wandered around the store for an hour, leaving after Sherlock started deducing one of the staff members. He is curled up in the seat right now, lips parted slightly in his sleep. Honeycomb wakes up, nudging his way under Sherlock's arm and into his coat before lying back down again. Sherlock starts mumbling softly, curling his body around the dog. I shake him awake gently when we reach the house, jumping back when he kicks at me.

"Sherlock, wake up."

He sits up, rubbing his eyes.

"Where are we?"

"We're back home. Help me bring the bags in. Grab Honeycomb too."

We start grabbing bags, dog following us into the house. Sherlock drops his bags in the kitchen, collapsing on the couch.

"Are you okay?"

He doesn't respond, worrying me slightly.

"Sherlock?"

I hesitate, deciding to finish putting everything away before walking into the sitting room.

"Who's a good boy? Yes you are."

Sherlock barely looks up when I walk in, still playing with the dog. I sit beside them, grabbing the telly remote off the table. It takes a while, but eventually Sherlock moves again and lies his head in my lap.

"John."

"Hmm?"

"When do they come back?"

"Who?"

"The boys. Will and Hamish."

"Soon."

"How soon?"

"Soon soon."

He groans, glaring at me.

"When?"

I kiss him to make him shut up, feeling his weight shift further onto me. He kisses me back, hard, using the couch to push himself up. Honeycomb walks over, licking both of us on the nose before flopping over in Sherlocks lap. We start laughing, Sherlock picks him up and hugs him against his chest.

"Lie down."

"Pardon?"

"Lie down."

Sherlock lies back when I push on his shoulder, opening his arms to me. I lie on top of him, carefully avoiding his side.

"Get some rest. We have company tonight."

"Who?"

"You'll see, just go to sleep."

He drapes one arm over my shoulders, passing out quickly. My cell buzzes, a call, so I slowly sit up and answer it.

"Is everything still okay for tonight?"

"Yes. What time are you guys coming over?"

"We'll be there by six. The boys are excited to come back."

"I think its time. To bring them back I mean. Sherlock is sleeping okay again, he's taking his meds, isnt freaking out as often. He's ready."

"What about the blank staring, the trance like state he goes into, how has that been?"

"He visits his memory palace every night, when he thinks I'm sleeping. Something Mrs. Hudson did today set him off, just a tad bit of shaking and a blank stare at the counter. Picked up lunch, and he did it again. He seems to be doing okay with Honeycomb now though, the episodes weren't as bad as I was expecting them to be."

"Ill have them pack their bags. As I said, six tonight."

"Thank you Mycroft."

"You too."

The line goes dead, so I toss my cell back onto the table.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm cold."

I look back, realizing he started to unbutton his shirt. Out of habit, I tell him to put a shirt on, which makes him smile. He pulls on my shirt gently, trying to pull it off without sitting up.

"What are you doing?"

Sherlock finaly does sit up, pinning me back down beneath him. He smiles at me, lips brushing against mine. My fingers tangle in his hair, gently tugging him to lie down. I kiss him harder, pushing my body up against his. He pushes back, forming comfortable pressure between us. Sherlock moans softly, lips still pressed against mine.

"Up."

"What?"

"Get up."

He pulls me up with him, starting to walk upstairs. We fall into bed together, Sherlock still on top of me. He lies back suddenly, gently pulling me to sit on his hips. I run my hands down his body, nibbling on his ear softly.

"Please John."

"Are you sure?"

"Please."

I roll off of him, pulling my trousers off. He does the same, pulling me back on top of him.

"Let me know if I'm hurting you. Okay?"

He nods, locking eyes with me. I start slowly, making Sherlock moan loudly. We lie tangled together afterwards, my head on Sherlocks chest. He shifts suddenly, grabbing his cell from the bedside table.

"What's wrong Sherlock?"

"Time. When are they coming?"

"Uhh...six. What time is it now?"

As if on cue, the doorbell rings. I toss Sherlock a set of clothes, pulling on an orange jumper myself. Sherlock opens the door once we are dressed, curls askew. I casually pat them back down again, running down the stairs to get the door. Mycroft and Greg brought the boys back tonight, both of them are staying for dinner. Sherlock and I head to the kitchen after greeting everyone, sending the boys upstairs to unpack and get washed up for dinner. Honeycomb runs into the room suddenly, slipping on the polished hardwood and tumbling to a halt at Sherlocks feet. He looks up at Sherlock as if for praise, which he promptly receives. We make dinner together, finishing quickly. The boys come back downstairs, helping set the table.