Disclaimer: I do not own. Or make any money from this fic.

A.N Ok, after watching the second series of Sherlock again I was inspired to write my own return Johnlock fic, I hope you enjoy it XD

"Sherlock?" John mumbled blinking into the dark when he woke at the sound of the faint thump. Peering blankly through the darkness he managed to make out the outline of Sherlock sitting at the base of his bed, cross legged staring at him through the dark. As his eyes adjusted to the light from outside he could see Sherlock's ice blue eyes focused on him. Tugging himself into a sitting position against his head board he let out a small yawn rubbing his eyes as he looked back.

"I knew, I knew from that first day, the minute we stepped inside here together, I knew," Sherlock's deep voice had a slight haunted quality, faint loss, thoughtful as ever when he wasn't on a high when he was close to solving a case. John frowned looking at the clock, three in the morning.

"You knew what?" John stifled another yawn. He knew that Sherlock was having difficulty being back, he knew he was having difficulty adjusting to not being on the run, to being a legal member of society again, and to being back home again. Three years was a long time, three years where they had been separated, three years where he had believed that Sherlock was dead.

Sherlock had come back expecting him to have moved on, expecting him to have been married if he would guess at what had gone through Sherlock's mind. Instead he had come back to John still living in Baker Street, the flat barely changed, still working in the surgery, no girl friend, no fiancé, no wife. Still missing his best friend, his other half. He knew now, 3 years was a long time to think it through, but no matter what relationship they had, friendship or otherwise they were meant to have found each other, and they belonged in each other's life. And he had felt the loss drastically, in a way he doubted was fixable. However he was well aware that no matter how many years they were allowed together, he would never ever be able to keep up with Sherlock's thought process all the time.

"That you were dangerous," Sherlock answered crawling up the bed and sprawling on his stomach with his head resting on his arms on the pillows.

"Dangerous? Me?! Sherlock come on," John snorted.

"You are. Aside from the obvious being a soldier, not afraid to do what he has to to defend the people he cares about. No John, I knew you were dangerous to me," Sherlock sighed.

"To you? Sherlock, I would never hurt you!" John frowned suddenly a lot more awake.

"Oh I know you wouldn't physically harm me, that's not how I meant it," Sherlock shook his head, his curls falling slightly over his face with the movement making John's lips twitch automatically.

"Then how did you mean?" John asked as normal feeling a few steps behind Sherlock's marathon mind.

"I knew as soon as we stepped into the flat that you were different to everyone else, when we were in the taxi on the way to the crime scene I realised how much and I knew, I just knew you would be dangerous to me. You're dangerous to everything I have ever been, to who I thought I was, you were dangerous to the knowledge I had believed that I didn't need or want anyone in my life, you were completely dangerous to all the walls I managed to create around myself," Sherlock sighed. "Mrs Hudson started it but you made me open to letting you and her in,"

"Sherlock…" John frowned not knowing quite what to say to that.

"You crept in before I realised it, I saw it finally when I got back to the flat and realised you had been taken by Shan. You managed to do what no one else had before, you managed to see me as a human, and you managed to make me feel human, you made me feel panic, you made me feel worry, happiness, belonging, sadness, jealousy…jealousy me!" Sherlock huffed.

"Why are you telling me all this now Sherlock?" John asked softly. He knew Sherlock would understand that he didn't mean right this minute, in the middle of the night.

"I knew you were dangerous to me, I knew I cared for you in a way I hadn't cared for anyone before, and I doubt I will again. I knew you were different. But when I was away from you, when I wanted nothing more than to be right here with you, I realised how much, I realised exactly what I felt for you. I thought being back might be enough, I thought if I came back and got to see you again, just be with you and see how you had moved in I could carry on," Sherlock said snuggling further into the pillows.

"I…I don't…I don't work without you Sherlock, I don't…I can't…" John stammered at a loss of what to say. They had discussed Sherlock's 'death' and the three years separation, they had kind of discussed missing each other and even that it appeared they could not live separately. Sherlock had asked if he could move into his old bedroom to which John had snapped 'who else am I going to live with? You call me the idiot'. But this, this was on a whole new level.

"John?" Sherlock frowned sitting up a little when John snapped on his lamp and stood from the bed, running his fingers through his hair the way he did when he was starting to get angry. Like when Sherlock had accidentally set fire to one of his jumpers last week.

"You don't get it do you Sherlock? People care about you, people worry, they miss you, they missed you, I missed you. You're not just Sherlock Holmes the consulting detective, you're Sherlock, you're just Sherlock to me!" John sat on the edge of the bed covering his face with his hands as he tried to get himself under control.

"You're the first person to ever make me feel like just Sherlock, and make me feel as though he is perfectly alright to be. You know before, I got bored, flat mates they became predictable, they became boring, always annoyed despite me warning them. You get annoyed at me but you never get fed up. And I don't get bored of you, you always do something or say something that surprises me, something I had not expected or predicted you would do. And I do not get fed up when you make me eat or sleep, when you fuss, when you hide my cigarettes," Sherlock smiled when John snorted and turned to look at him.

"I could do without the body parts in the fridge, but I admit I even missed coming home from the surgery guessing what body parts I would find hidden where in the flat," John sighed dropping back to lie across the bed.

"I…I've never felt so lonely as I did this last three years. It was like a part of me was missing. I would turn around to say something to you, or I would think 'I must tell John that' and then remember I couldn't," Sherlock said softly.

"Why? Why couldn't you, why couldn't you just come home?" John's voice was pleading and showing every single ounce of pain he had felt over the last three years as he asked the question that had not been voiced or answered between them since Sherlock had shown up.

"When I was in the class room with the insane cab driver I said something to him that I never in my wildest dreams thought I would truly understand. I knew it in theory, through psychology and through observations of humans throughout history. But I never thought that I myself would truly, completely understand and comprehend what it meant," Sherlock said, his voice now so soft John could only just hear him.

"What did you tell him Sherlock?" John asked.

"Love is a far more vicious motivator. I understand now just how much," Sherlock sighed. As John lay there blinking Sherlock lifted himself to his knees and crawled back over to John, straddling his body and lowering himself so he was lying with his head resting on John's shoulder, his long limbs sprawled over the doctor. John's arms automatically went with it, wrapping themselves around Sherlock's back, his hands splayed on the still too thin back. As ever his body reacting to Sherlock before his mind caught up with the events, even if this was a little different to chasing Sherlock around London or ducking one of his projectiles when he was in a mood.

"Love?" He breathed out, almost afraid to say the word out loud as though it would be snatched back away from him.

"Love, I stayed away for love. I had to make sure you were safe, that Mrs Hudson was safe. I had to hunt down the rest of Moriarty's circle to make sure you were safe before I came back. I stayed away because I love you, I'm in love with you," Sherlock finally said it out loud. He blinked shocked when instead of being pushed off, or snogged blindly - as had been his frequent daydreams - he was instead rolled over with a very angry doctor leaning over him.

"You complete and utter idiot!" John hissed out his eyes narrowed dangerously. Sherlock read everything in one glance, the pain, the anger, the hurt, the frustration, the loneliness that had been so apparent in John's eyes when he returned. "Why do you think that you have do things alone? Why do you think they you can't rely on us. Once the immediate threat was gone you could have come back and we could have dealt with it, together! You stayed away because you love me, but I want to stay at your side and fight with you because I love you! I don't know how to exist without you there, playing your damned violin at three in the bloody morning, putting body parts in our fridge and using all the milk in your experiments. I don't…I didn't want to carry on if you weren't here Sherlock," John admitted, his shouting tapering off until Sherlock could barely hear the words he was speaking despite him only being inches away.

"I didn't know for sure you were safe, Moriarty had numerous back up plans in place, I couldn't risk it. And I thought…" Sherlock frowned and turned his head away from John's piercing eyes.

"You thought what Sherlock?" John asked, his voice soft and gentle again, his fingers finding Sherlock's curly hair and beginning to run through it soothingly.

"I expected to come back and find you had moved on, that you were married, or with someone. I expected you to be living your life normally, missing me yes, but…I need you far more than you need me," Sherlock frowned, the thoughts that had tortured and kept him sane during their time apart spilling out. He had been able to carry on with his self imposed mission, his self imposed exile when he had been able to believe that due to it John was somewhere living happily.

"Sherlock," John sighed dropping his head into the crook of Sherlock's shoulder, his tone the one reserved for when Sherlock made one of his more spectacular 'bit not goods'. "I need you, I need you in my life, I need to know you are here with me, the last three years have literally been torture, I felt, I felt like a ghost, I was going through the motions so as not to worry Mrs Hudson, Greg, Molly, Mycroft or Harry, but I didn't feel anything, nothing made me happy and nothing could take away the pain of losing you, of the fact you weren't here. The five of them had me on bloody suicide watch for eight months after…after it," John said quietly not moving from Sherlock's shoulder.

"You didn't?" Sherlock choked out his arms wrapping around John and holding on tightly. It had never occurred to him that John might try and take his own life.

"I thought about it, a few times, I even sat in your room with a bottle of pills once, but I couldn't do that to them, and I knew you wouldn't be happy with me, but mainly because I was determined that I was going to clear your name with the public and the police. By the time I had done that they were over half way into their suicide watch and too good at knowing my routines for me to get away with it, not to mention Mycroft and his bloody cameras," John shrugged.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said quietly, tears running silently down his pale cheeks before he let out a small sob. "I am so sorry,"

"I know you are Sherlock, and I know you were doing what you thought was best for us, for all of us. But please, please don't leave me again, I don't think I can go through that again," John begged, tears of his own echoing Sherlock's as he lifted himself to stare down into the icy blue eyes of the person he loved most in his life and always would.

"I'll never leave you," Sherlock promised, his arms reaching for John as his mind told him the illogicality of that statement, but for once Sherlock ignored the obvious and logicality of a situation and allowed his heart to make his choices for once.

Smiling brightly even as another tear escaped his eye John did what he had been wanting to do since he had opened the door to find a bearded, scruffy, too thin Sherlock standing on the doorstep in the pouring rain, he leant between them and sealed their lips together. Sherlock groaned hungrily into John's mouth, arching against him as he tightened his arms around John's shoulders and held the other man's warm body close to his own. Tasting Sherlock was everything that John had ever dreamt it would be, and while he could practically taste the inexperience in the genius's kiss this just fuelled John even further and before he could really think he thrust his tongue into Sherlock's mouth and proceeded to taste, tease and devour his gorgeous other half as thoroughly as possible.

Sherlock was able to gasp before the intensity between them picked up to indescribable levels when he allowed his hand to creep underneath John's sleep shirt, he wondered if he had done something wrong when he received a faint growl into his mouth for the action, but this was completely blown away when John redirected his lips to Sherlock's neck and attacked it hungrily, quickly having Sherlock making noises he hadn't known he was able to make as John seemed to hone in on every sensitive spot on his neck. Listening to the mewls, groans and curses spilling from those plump cupid bow lips had John working even harder, each noise driving the heat and lust between them higher and higher.

As with anything Sherlock was quick to learn and pick up on things, the porn and stories that he had searched through on the internet - for serious behavioural research - helping him along. Slowly dragging his nails along the stretch skin of John's back he tilted his head back allowing John more space to work, allowing his hand to slip around and his fingers to stroke the defined muscles of John's stomach and chest, the army doctor having not let himself go at all in their time apart, if not working himself even harder. He gasped out, his legs automatically parting to allow John to rest between them more comfortably when John let out another growl as Sherlock's finger nail scratched over John's nip, receiving a firm nip to the stretched and probably now bruised skin of his neck in response.

He couldn't prevent another gasp when John impatiently sat up and little and yanked his own shirt over his head one handed before tossing it over the side of the bed even as he leaned down to kiss Sherlock again. With all that now exposed flesh in front of him Sherlock was not going to refuse the offer that it clearly was, and his hand were quickly skimming over the tanned flesh, his mind cataloguing every place that caused an increased heartbeat or and catching of breath, every place that made John kiss him harder and dirtier, or relax his body and kiss him a little slower. His fingers also found every scar and mark, either from being a soldier, the normal scars people pick up along their lifetime and the scars that he had received during their adventures together.

His brilliant mind actually short circuited at the feeling of strong calloused fingers sliding underneath his own shirt as John parted from their kiss, leaning up so nearly entirely black eyes could look down and drink in the expressions Sherlock made as talented fingers teased over the thin stomach underneath them, the touch sometimes feather light, sometimes firm. John slowly brought up Sherlock's shirt revealing the skin he was touching, before he leant down and allowed his tongue and lips to follow the trail his fingers had left, his teeth nipping now and then when Sherlock was least expecting it causing him to start and groan at the feeling.

Sherlock had never been so aware of his own body as he was right now, the feeling of skin on skin contact, which he had disliked with so many people, now felt absolutely amazing and sent fire speeding through his veins, the rough drag of the warm digits running up and over his ribcage before running firmly down his sides, hard enough not to tickle sent his senses reeling. He was barely aware of John helping his out of his shirt as determined lips attached themselves to his right nip and licked and sucked the small bud of flesh that Sherlock, while knowing logically had extra nerve receptors in them, did not know the pleasure that the warm wet mouth of his Doctor Watson could cause.

John listened eagerly to the groaning coming from beneath him as Sherlock fisted his hair tightly and arched into his mouth, his hips unconsciously thrusting up against John's own, searching for the friction his long, hard erection needed. John nipped and sucked at the nipple, teasing Sherlock into a higher frenzy until he was sure that the nipple would be enflamed and irritated tomorrow before he moved to Sherlock's other nipple to give it the same treatment.

By the time John lifted his hips from where they had kept Sherlock's pinned the mattress, grinding down only occasionally to provide relief when Sherlock's babbled pleading became too desperate, Sherlock was writhing and panting, a large wet patch on the front of his pyjama pants from the pre cum his cock was liberally leaking. Leaning down John sealed their lips together again as he slipped his hand in the waist band of Sherlock's blue silk pyjama bottoms and grasped Sherlock's heavy erection firmly and started pumping it at almost a brutal pace making Sherlock cry into his mouth as his body tensed and he released, surrendering himself to the pleasure crashing over his body.

Slate blue eyes stared up into brown as John gently eased Sherlock through the orgasm belying the over powering lust and pure need running through his body, the unfamiliarity and overwhelming emotions swimming through Sherlock's eyes telling John that the unfamiliar territory was threatening to swallow Sherlock, and John wanted Sherlock to feel nothing but pleasure and love from this. From the few occasions where Sherlock had felt out of step, uncomfortable and unknowing of a situation John was familiar with John knew how to ease Sherlock through the moment, using a gentle touch and gentle kisses where he had had to rely on his presence and soft words before.

Sherlock frowned a little down at the very evident bulge in John's boxers as his brain finally came back online and started firing up again. John caught the look and swept down to kiss Sherlock with a slighter gentleness now some of the urge and lust had been assuaged the desperation had eased from John's actions. Sherlock felt his calming heart pick up beat again as John's lips skilfully worked his own.

"What's wrong?" John asked as they parted, keeping their foreheads pressed together creating an intimacy that had Sherlock's arms moving to wrap around John's shoulders without him needing to really think about it.

"You haven't cum," Sherlock sounded perfectly neutral as he said it, but the blush on his cheeks and the uncertainty in his voice made John kiss him gently again before responding.

"We can stop now if you want, I don't want you to do anything that you aren't comfortable with,"

"Or?" Sherlock frowned.

"Or we could carry on," John said softly, his voice and body language making it more than clear to Sherlock that John would quite happily lie down now and they could go to sleep, well perhaps happily was not the right word, and John would no doubt want to snuggle as he had unconsciously the few times that they had nodded off next to each other. And it was that that made Sherlock reach down and tug John's boxers down, keeping eye contact with John. "Are you sure Sherlock?" John asked, gritting his teeth when Sherlock smirked as he wrapped his hand around John and gave one firm pump the way John had his own erection. However he was a little shocked by the length and width he felt in his hand, peeking down between them and blinking when he saw the size of the flesh he was gripping.

"Well Dr Watson, you certainly are full of surprises," Sherlock said a little breathlessly and a little nervously.

"We don't have to do that Sherlock, you could just give me a hand job," John assured him.

"No, I want feel you inside me, part of me, I want to feel you. I've waited long enough, we've waited long enough, John please," Sherlock squirmed as he shockingly felt himself stirring. John could see the look in Sherlock's eyes that he was not going to be shifted on this. Leaning down he pressed another kiss to Sherlock's lips before standing and hurrying to his nightstand after yanking off his boxers, Sherlock quickly kicking off his pyjama pants and shuffling onto the bed the right way up and settling back against the pillows, watching as John dug out what he needed and hurried back.

"Not that," Sherlock scowled grabbing the condom in John's hand and throwing it away sulkily.

"Alright then," John grinned happily scrambling onto the bed as he tugged the top off the lube in his hand and pumped it onto his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it before looking at Sherlock. In answer to the question in his Doctor's eyes Sherlock opened his legs beckoningly, looking utterly seductive and desirable while looking trustingly at John.

He wriggled a little scrunching his nose at the feeling of the of the digit pressing into his entrance, John moving at a slow pace to allow Sherlock to get used to the feeling, layering kisses over Sherlock's stomach, thighs and hips as a form of distraction from the feeling of being stretched as he thrust his finger a little before adding a second.

"Take a deep breath Sherlock," John urged feeling Sherlock tightening automatically around him. Doing as he was told Sherlock locked his eyes with his doctor's and he nodded indicating him to carry on. Nipping Sherlock's sharp hipbone John gently started thrusting the two fingers, gradually scissoring them open wider and wider, feeling the muscles give slowly. Smirking as Sherlock met his eyes again as he started to pant a little at the friction inside of him John crooked his fingers and with perfect aim scratched the tip of his finger over the small nub he could feel inside of Sherlock's body. He watched hungrily as Sherlock's body arched with a loud moan, John using his distraction to slip another finger inside Sherlock, shifting himself trying to get control of himself as he watched his fingers disappearing into Sherlock who was now thrusting his hips with the rhythm John had set.

Sherlock shuddered when after his grumble of complaint when John's fingers were pulled from him John placed one gentle kiss on his stomach before he reached for the lube and squeezed a liberal amount into his hand before slicking himself up, carefully making sure not to pump himself any more than he needed for fear of this being over before it had even began.

"This would be easier if you rolled over Sherlock," John said softly.

"I want to see your face," Sherlock shook his head. John didn't want to make this any worse for Sherlock than it had to be, but he wanted to be able to see Sherlock's face as well so he wasn't going to fight him on this. Especially not when he had that determined set to his chin.

"This is going to hurt for a little bit, but I will try and make it as quick as possible," John promised as he lined himself up with Sherlock's twitching entrance. At Sherlock's nod John started pushing forwards, gritting his own teeth to push back the urge to just slam into the tight, hot silky tunnel of the man underneath him and pound away, instead he scanned Sherlock's face for any sign of discomfort, slowing a little when he caught a wince or tightening of his face in pain, until finally, finally they were pressed completely together. "So beautiful, so perfect," John breathed out kissing Sherlock's slightly sweaty temple as he waited for him to get used to his length inside of him.

"John," Sherlock gasped, his long nimble fingers digging into John's muscled shoulders, being careful of the slightly tender scar on the right shoulder, as he battled the overwhelming feeling of sharing his body with John, of finally having John inside of him, and of the words that John honestly believed being spoken to him.

"Please, move," Sherlock urged shifting his hips downwards, feeling so full and while there was a little burn it felt so good that he wanted more.

John flexed his hips a little before he pulled back slowly, his eyes intense as he scanned over Sherlock's face every indication that it gave while pushing slowly back in. He was likely going to have finger shaped bruises on his shoulder blades from how hard Sherlock's fingers were digging into them, but that just drove his hips sharper and faster, thrusting harder and quicker into Sherlock at the rapidly gasped urges and the litany of moans that spilt from Sherlock, the voice that was normally so husky and gravely anyway sounding even more so with the tone of sex underneath it. His legs slipped up and wrapped tightly around John's waist moving with his partner's thrusts, the pleasure stronger and more intense, John's thick cock managing to pound against his prostate constantly after he found the right angle to make Sherlock squirm and moan on him, and pushing him faster and faster towards his end as John himself was getting closer to finishing.

John could feel Sherlock getting closer and closer to his end as he tightened around John, his tight muscles fluttering and clamping, and finally he pushed himself onto one hand before reaching between them to grip Sherlock's swollen and red tipped erection. With several more thrusts Sherlock slammed his head back into the pillow and shouted out as he came over their stomachs, his tightening muscles clamping down hard enough that John managed only one last thrust before he was shouting out Sherlock's name as he spilt his hot sticky cum inside of Sherlock, pressed as tightly to Sherlock's as possible.

With an exhale of air he gently pulled his softening cock from Sherlock, brushing gentle fingers over Sherlock's sharp cheekbones before leaning down to kiss him gently.

"Are you alright? Are you sore?" John asked concerned brushing his fingers over Sherlock's thigh concerned. Sherlock just smiled and shook his head feeling delightfully blissed out, his brain not spinning over and over and over as normal, his body feeling tired and sated while feeling a little limp and boneless. John smiled kissing his tenderly before he flopped down next to him, throwing an arm and leg over Sherlock as he battled the covers over them.

"Was, was that alright?" Sherlock asked, uncharacteristic uncertainty in his voice that both of them knew he would only ever allow John to see and hear.

"Brilliant," John smiled.

"And we can do it again?" Sherlock asked hopefully.

"Give me a hour," John smirked tugging Sherlock to him and kissing him deeply.

Sherlock was warm, comfortable and unusual well rested when he woke up, his quick mind spinning to take everything in before he opened his eyes. He wasn't in his own bed or on the sofa, he did however quickly recognise John's bed. His body was slightly sticky and had dried sweat and what he quickly figured out was cum on it, certain part of his body felt tight with bruises, his arse was a little sore and uncomfortably sticky as well. And he had a strong arm and thigh over his stomach and his own thigh and a strong hard body pressed along the length of his back.

Smiling contently to himself he opened his eyes and soaked up the feeling of being in John's arms as he had dreamt for so long, especially over the last three years. But then his body's natural urges and the need to shower took over and he managed to wriggle free of John without waking him, hurrying to the bathroom and turning on the shower before taking care of his immediate need to relieve himself and then brushing his teeth.

He took his time in the shower, enjoying the spray of water on aching muscles he hadn't known existed in his body until John ensured they were all used, twice more before they practically passed out, from dehydration probably!

With a content sigh as he thought about his doctor Sherlock stepped out the shower, grabbing his towel from the towel rail, wrapping it firmly around his hips before he slightly limped across to the mirror to see what state his hair was in after the all the events of the night. What he saw however had him freezing and blinking at the mirror before horror took over.

"John! I look like I have been mauled by a vampire!" Sherlock shouted horrified storming back into John's room, glowering at the entirely too smug looking doctor who was reclined comfortably on his bed wide awake and uncaring of the nakedness that Sherlock could see considering the sheets had fallen to John's thighs when he had pulled himself up to lean against the headboard.

"If you carry on staring like that you'll be starting something this morning as well, and I'm not sure your arse can take that," John said smugly. Sherlock wished he could come up with one of his sharp, biting responses but he knew the bright blush across his cheeks would make anything he said pointless. He did raise an eyebrow at John when his until now soft cock twitched interested against John's thigh and began hardening visibly.

"You look amazing standing there," John shrugged unabashed, his brown eyes dragging up from Sherlock's bare feet, up long bare legs, over Sherlock's towel, up his chest bare except for the marks John had left and his two red, enflamed and swollen nipples, until he met wide blue eyes. Smirking he beckoned Sherlock forwards, the consulting detective pausing for a second before he smiled, a little shyer than he would like, before he dropped his towel and hurried back to the bed.

"Ah Mycroft, I wouldn't if I were you," Mrs Hudson smiled popping her head out her front door when she heard the footsteps and familiar tap of an umbrella on the floor.

"I'm afraid this is important Mrs Hudson," Mycroft said with masked impatience.

"Those two have finally stopped making moon eyes at each other and admitted their feelings. I don't think it would be a good idea to disturb them for a few days dear unless you want to be scarred for life, not to mention how possessive Sherlock gets," Mrs Hudson shrugged before popping back into her flat leaving the door open in offering.

"Wonderful, now I will have to put some simpleton on this case and I owe Greg Lestrade £250," Mycroft sighed shutting the door and pulling of his jacket.

"Ah what did you bet on? Molly owes me £30 after I bet it would only take them two months," Mrs Hudson smiled as she put a cup of tea in front of him at the table.

"Greg said one and a half to two months, I said two to two and half," Mycroft sighed. "A week and I would have won! Do you have any of your coffee cake Mrs Hudson?"

"Oh, of course dear!" Mrs Hudson beamed standing up before freezing at the obscenely loud moan that came from upstairs followed by what sounded like a scrape of furniture on the floor.

"Perhaps it would be better if we went out for lunch?" Mycroft said quickly, standing and hurrying for his jacket.

"Yes, yes that's a wonderful idea," Mrs Hudson was on his heels grabbing her own jacket as a series of grunts and groans echoed down.

"I'll have Anthea pick up some clothes for you, you can spend a couple of days at my townhouse," Mycroft cleared his throat as what was clearly his brother's voice shouted out John's name. The two of them practically racing out the flat as incriminating thumps and creaks rhythmically started up.