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“P.S.: I know you two. And if I’m gone, I know what you could become. Because I know who you really are.”
Sherlock turned his head to look at John, smiling softly. His friend still had tears in his eyes, but he had a smile on his face too. For a moment, none of them spoke: they didn’t want to ruin that atmosphere of peace, the feeling of a bittersweet happy ending, but a happy ending nonetheless. The echo of Mary’s words resonated in their minds, until Sherlock took a deep breath and said:
"Nice speech, wasn’t it?"
His voice was slightly broken. He didn’t cry, but deep down he was moved. Somehow a dead woman perfectly managed to express his feelings. About John, about their lives, about their relationship. He was grateful to her for that.
"Yeah. Great speech." John answered, his voice cracked as well.
"God rest her soul. Mary was a wonderful woman. You were… you are a lucky man, John."
John nodded, unable to talk back, his mind filled with thoughts and emotions.
"Well, I don’t mean to be… I think I’m going back to Baker Street…"
"No, Sherlock please. Sit here next to me." whispered John, pointing at the seat next to him on the couch.
Sherlock didn’t hesitate and he gently sat by his friend’s side, his heart beating faster.
"Control, Sherlock. Control."
"Mary was indeed a wonderful woman. God, I miss her so much. But it’s time to move on, isn’t it?"
John paused for a second, then he went on.
"This house… Isn’t it too big for the two of us? Me and Rosie, I mean. It’s a nice area around here, sure, but… I don’t feel completely at home now that Mary’s gone."
A single tear fell on John’s face, but he continued.
"What I’m trying to say, Sherlock, is that… Maybe I could come back. I could come back and live at the flat. 221B Baker Street. Our flat."
Sherlock’s heart was pounding, but his breath stopped for a second after hearing those words. Did John really want to come back living with him?
"Yeah." John said, as if he’d read into Sherlock’s thoughts "Me and Rosie, we could move there. It wouldn’t be easy, I know, there’s a lot of things to pack, and then all of the baby’s stuff…"
"John… It would be an honour and a pleasure to have you back at Baker Street. And Rosie, of course. I’m his godfather after all, I have to look after her, don’t I?"
John smiled at his friend, relieved. Sherlock seemed to want him back in his life more than anything. He could see it in his lips: they were slightly shaking, his eyes staring at him intensely. ‘Maybe I’m just deducing what I want to see.’ John thought.
"I… I’ll help you with everything, don’t worry. We still have some work to do on the first floor, but I think your room could be ready in a month."
A brief piece of memory flashed through John’s mind: “There’s another bedroom upstairs… If you’ll be needing two rooms.” John smiled as he recalled Mrs Hudson’s words, on that distant day when they settled at the flat for the first time.
"Maybe 221B is a bit small for the three of us… But I couldn’t imagine you living anywhere else, Sherlock. And I really want you back as my…" John hesitated for a moment "…flatmate."
Sherlock showed John a wide smile, visibly excited to have him back living with him. Of course, their lives probably wouldn’t be the same as before. They hadn’t been living together since Sherlock’s "death". That changed everything. And then John got married, he had a child and lost his wife… But no matter what life threw at them, Sherlock and John always came back to each other. All those years were the proof that, despite their differences, their bond could withstand even the most tragic events.
Sherlock stood up and adjusted his coat.
"I’m afraid I really have to go now, Mrs Hudson must be freaking out."
"And why is that?" asked John.
"All the sweaty workers running up and down to fix the mess in the flat keep her from having her five pm cup of tea. The works in the kitchen aren’t finished yet, and she can’t find a quiet place anywhere in the house. I promised I’d take her somewhere nice so she can have her beloved cuppa."
"But doesn’t Mrs Hudson have her own car? Why does she need you going with her?"
"She doesn’t. But I’d fancy a cup of tea as well." Sherlock answered with a quirky smile, blinking at him.
John laughed and walked his friend to the door.
"By the way, you can always have a cup of tea here if you like."
"Thank you, John. I’ll keep that in mind."
John smiled and watched Sherlock go out.
"Oh, Sherlock, I almost forgot!"
"Yes, John?"
"What do you think Mary meant… What do you think she meant with “I know you two, and I know what you could become”?"
Sherlock didn’t answer immediately. He looked at the ground, almost embarrassed, then he looked at his friend, with a soft expression on his face.
"Who knows, John. We can only wait and see. We both know she was ahead of us on many things."
"Yeah, you’re right. I think you should have a copy of the DVD, I’ll make one and give it to you as soon as I come to Baker Street. Is tomorrow morning fine?"
"It’s always fine, you know it. 221B will always be open for you, my dear John."
***
Rosie seemed incredibly interested in the new toy that Sherlock gave her for her first birthday: a stuffed teddy bear whose head could be ripped off and put at its place again as many times as she wanted.
"She seems to enjoy it a little bit much. You really couldn’t find a less creepy toy, could you?" John said to Sherlock while shaking his head.
Sherlock was busy with its scientific stuff in the kitchen, but he heard John’s words and smiled. He couldn’t help it: he was beginning to love Rosie more and more, as if she was his own child. That wasn’t surprising at all: since John and his daughter moved in at Baker Street, his life changed, and for the better. Sure, all the noise that belonged to the new entry in the family sometimes annoyed him, but he couldn’t be happier to finally have John back living with him, and Rosie was just adorable after all: they just needed some time to get to know and trust each other.
"I could teach her how to play the violin when she grows up. That would be fun."
"I hope you’ll have as much success as that time she kept throwing that toy at your face."
Sherlock rolled his eyes at the memory, but John’s spontaneous laughter made him smile too. His heart was beating faster: he had to do it, he put it off for ages now, and he couldn’t resist anymore. He took a deep breath and stood up, then went to the living room with the excuse of taking a couple of chemistry books from the shelves.
Rosie was in her father’s lap, busy trying to find a new way of decapitating the teddy bear. John was proudly looking at his precious little creature. Then he glanced at Sherlock: the look in his eyes was silently telling him “Isn’t she adorable?”.
Sherlock cleared his voice, his lips slightly shaking. John recognised the sign: he was about to tell him something that involved emotions, feelings and all that stuff the man he met years before tried to avoid so desperately.
"John, I was thinking… What if we leave Rosie with Molly this evening? It’s been a long time since we… uhm, we went out for dinner… We could go to a restaurant and… eat something… Only if you want, of course…"
John let out a little laughter. Sherlock was really bad at that.
"Yeah, why not? That’s a good idea. I’m starving." he answered with a quirky smile on his face.
"I booked a table for two at Angelo’s. I thought that was appropriate, since… Well, since today…"
"…is the anniversary of the day we first met?"
Sherlock clenched his jaw. John had still that quirky smile upon his face.
"Yes… Yes, exactly. I didn’t think you…"
"Every year, Sherlock. I remember it every year. The 29th of January. And sure, it’ll be a pleasure to commemorate the occasion in the place where it all started. Our first case."
"Yes, indeed." Sherlock laughed nervously "I told Angelo we’d be there at 8."
"That’s perfect. I’ll take a shower and then we’ll enjoy our dinner."
John stood up and went upstairs to have a shower. Sherlock remained in the living room, unable to move for some reason. He looked at Rosie, his lips still trembling. The child looked up with a curious look on her face.
"Oh, Rosie. I am terrible at this." he whispered under his breath.
His stepdaughter stared at him and then laughed, clapping her hands.
"Locky and Dada!" she shouted, visibly amused.
Sherlock let out a laugh and gently caressed her blonde hair.
"My dear Watson, you clever child."