#nothing like Dinner to distract you from being 2000 feet off the ground

[columboscreens]

[lettheladylead]

avoid the unhappy ending (ch11)

ships/characters: Goldie, Scrooge, Louie, Dewey, Donald, Webby, Huey, Beakley, Scrooge/Goldie words (ch11): ~4200 summary: Goldie comes to town to see Scrooge. Instead, she somehow manages to run into literally everyone else. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27108943/

[1 & 2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

Here’s the final chapter! Thanks for reading :D

Dinner wasn’t a disaster. No, disaster would not be the right word to describe how it went. It was weird. It was...not terrible, but not good. Scrooge’s face was redder than the tomatoes on his plate when the kids were finished asking questions. Goldie had to admit some of their questions had her blushing as well, but at least she knew to just keep sipping her wine instead of trying to answer.

Kids were nosy; they asked a lot of questions. And there were just so many of them. Each one with their own questions. Well, except for Sharpie, who was content in watching the old people sweat. Little sadist.

At least the food was good. But Goldie would never tell Beakley that. Never.

After dinner, most of the family went off to the living room to watch a movie. Scrooge started to complain about the quality of modern movies and how he hadn’t seen one since the 30s, but when Pink and her two little friends specifically asked Goldie to join them, Scrooge got a bit twitchy and followed everyone to the couch. He was a paranoid old man, that much was true. How was she supposed to steal while stuck on the couch surrounded by the whole family?

She was embarrassed when the girls all sat around her on the couch - she sort of anticipated sitting with Scrooge, but was ambushed by them and suddenly there were rugrats no matter where she looked. The De Spell kid seemed to have a protective arm around Pink and the hummingbird was sitting on the couch’s armrest and taking notes. About what, Goldie had no idea.

Sharpie sat on the floor with his brothers, but he was next to her feet and she felt a weird sort of instinct to pick him up and put him on her lap. Like hell that was going to happen - she shook it off almost as quickly as the urge appeared and tried to get comfortable so they could watch whatever the hell kid-friendly baby movie they’d picked out.

(Oddly enough, they picked a movie she and Scrooge had both seen before. Since when do kids like black and white movies?)

About twenty minutes in, she managed to sneak away from the group. Said she had to use the bathroom, but really she just needed a break from being surrounded by so many people.

Scrooge had watched her carefully as she walked away - she was sure he knew she wasn’t headed towards a bathroom and probably had Duckworth following her. To make sure no one was on her tail, she stepped into a water closet and shut the door for a minute, hoping to remove any suspicion. Then she snuck back out and quietly creeped towards the entrance to the Other Bin.

Tempting, but she had other things in mind.

Back in the Klondike Room, Goldie’s spine tingled at the chilly temperature and she quietly closed the door behind her. In less than a second, she launched herself across the bed to reach underneath and grab the lock box from earlier.

A quick flick and turn of a bobby pin from her hair and it was open without a hitch. She didn’t understand why Scrooge bothered with locks when she was the only one who was going after the treasure - they didn’t even slow her down.

She slowly lifted up the lid in anticipation, eyes glowing from the gold of the familiar nugget.

Three folded up pieces of paper and the gold nugget. The nugget distracted her - she scooped it up and just felt the weight of it in her hand. A moment later and she opened up the papers - deed, another deed, and a lock of her hair. It was still tied up in the same little ribbon it’d been tied up in over a hundred years prior, and though she still thought it was kind of weird that he kept it, a warmth spread throughout her chest. Especially knowing that just earlier that day, he was staring at it and thinking of her. How long had he been sitting there? She blushed the tiniest bit just thinking about him...thinking about her.

She frowned and looked at everything laid out on the bed. These were all things she already knew about; nothing new, nothing scandalous. Nothing for Scrooge to get all secretive about. Goldie grabbed the lock box and attempted to push and prod at every corner and angle in case Scrooge had added a secret compartment, but no. It was just the same old box as she remembered.

So Goldie put everything back in and shoved the box where it was before. She considered going back to the movie for a minute, but then remembered one other thing she wanted to check out.

As she made her way towards the stairs, Scrooge was just exiting the living room, clearly looking for her. He gave her a cross look and raised an eyebrow.

“What’re you doin’, O’Gilt?”

She smiled and walked closer to him, getting right up in his face. “No need to be suspicious, Scroogey, I was just admiring your decor on my way back.”

“Oh, sure,” he said with a scoff. “And I’m sure you didnae take anythin’ while you were alone.”

Goldie chuckled and grabbed his hands, dramatically shoving them into her pockets. “Check for yourself, Rich Boy.”

His face was red and he grumbled something about her being inappropriate, but he did shuffle through her pockets and even moved his hands to her back pockets as well - earning a completely predictable retort of, “Who’s the one being inappropriate now?”

Scrooge removed his hands and held his ground - no way was he going to apologize when they both knew his suspicions were justified. “Look, Goldie, if you don’t want to watch the movie, we could go somewhere else.”

“No, it’s fine,” Goldie said with a shrug, trying to think of how to get Scrooge out of her way so she could get back on her little treasure hunt. A moment later, she came up with an idea so bright she could practically see that weird little walking lightbulb again. “Though, since you mention it, there’s one place I’d love to go.”

“Oh? Where’s that?”

“Goldieburg.”

He froze, cheeks turning bright red. “I-...you-....what?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you?” she said with an obnoxiously innocent act. “I was in your office earlier when the oldest man I’ve ever spoken to rang. He was so upset that his ungrateful son hadn’t called his mommy.”

Scrooge’s face could not have been redder. “You-...you talked to my...parents?”

“For a minute.” She felt a malicious smile grace her face at Scrooge’s embarrassment. Good thing her parents were long gone. “They were very excited to hear from their little boy’s wee burd.”

If at all possible, Scrooge blushed harder, and he finally shook it off and shoved Goldie to the side to head up the stairs. “As soon as I’m done with this, I’m gettin’ rid of that phone!”

He didn’t even pay attention to Goldie as he ascended the stairs, heading in the opposite direction of where she needed to go. She smirked and waited another minute before continuing her path from earlier.

She flew up the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible, not wanting Scrooge to hear her and not knowing if Duckworth was still around to stop her. She had to admit, it was likely that whatever the ghost didn’t want her to see earlier in the day had absolutely nothing to do with Scrooge’s little anniversary gift, but she needed to check for herself. How could she have gotten as far as she had in life if she just trusted everything Scrooge McDuck said?

His bedroom door was slightly ajar, and she suspiciously looked around the room as she entered. No one was there, but Duckworth could appear at any time, so she needed to stay alert.

She kept her back to the wall and slid over towards the desk. There were a lot of drawers to unlock and she had no way of knowing which one contained whatever was being hidden from her. Or maybe it was multiple.

Either way, she sat down in his big chair, grabbed the same bobby pin from earlier, and went to work.

The first drawer she opened - top-left, of course - was just miscellaneous odds and ends. Stapler, pens, paperclips. Office supplies. Goldie dug around just in case, but it seemed to be a perfectly boring drawer. The fact that Scrooge had it locked was baffling to her - was he worried the kids would do an art project?

She shook her head and moved down to bottom-left. The lock was a little bit different, which probably meant each drawer had its own key. What kind of madman was he? At her own office she only had one locked drawer and she barely used it. Any smart swindler knew the safest place to keep something was on your person.

Scrooge knew that about his half of the Golden Lagoon map, but she supposed he didn't have enough pockets for all of his nonsense.

That drawer was filled with papers. A hodgepodge of papers - different sizes, colors, and importance. She was shocked at the lack of organization when she saw what was clearly one of Donald's drawings he did as a child next to the purchasing paperwork for some apartment complex in downtown Duckburg. Did he even know where this was?

She dug through again, but already knew she'd be coming up with squat.

Bottom-right, then.

It wasn't like she expected to find an ancient box of chocolates in the desk - or even a new box of chocolates, for that matter. She just felt like chocolate wasn't enough. Scrooge was acting too nervous and too ridiculous, she knew there had to be something else for her.

Inside the bottom-right drawer were some three-ring binders. She grabbed one and looked at the cover only to see it said FAMILY PHOTOS (2000-2020). She sighed and grabbed another one. Similar title, different set of dates.

Curious, Goldie flipped one open and skimmed through the pages. Donald and Della looked so different back when they were kids, but...somehow they looked exactly the same. She flipped through a couple more pages and was about to put the book down when she saw a familiar flash of blonde.

Her eyes darted to that photo and the photos around it. She did not expect to have an appearance in Scrooge's little family albums.

One of the photos with her in it was particularly nice, she had to admit. She and Scrooge were sitting next to each other on a large swing under an even larger tree. She didn't remember that day very well, but she remembered leaving after a few hours when she realized she was having a too nice of a time.

Goldie snatched that photo out of the album and stuffed it in her pocket before putting the binders back. She doubted some old photos were what Scrooge was hiding from her, but if she didn't find anything else, then she'd come back to it and skim through some more.

Top-right time. Assuming there weren't any secret drawers or false bottoms, she only had this and the middle drawer left. But the middle drawer was too small and thin to contain anything of note.

She felt her heart racing as she finished unlocking top-right, fully prepared to finally find whatever it was Scrooge didn't want her to see. She tugged it open and…

Keys?

Goldie frowned and stuck her hand in, shuffling around and checking for signs of hidden compartments. But her hand hit what was clearly the real bottom, and this drawer seemed to just be filled with keys. So, so many keys.

She frowned deeper as she realized the reason Duckworth chased her away was probably just because of this. Perhaps there was no special treasure Scrooge was hiding from her and this was just about preventing even more theft than she'd already stolen.

Goldie sighed and looked at the last drawer. She had a feeling it would just be push pins and packs of sticky notes for Old Mr. McBusiness, but she pried it open anyway.

For the most part, she was right. Office supplies again, and to her surprise there was even a backup pair of spectacles. She never considered Scrooge as someone to own backups of anything.

Next to the office supplies, there was a simple white envelope. With the label down, Goldie almost ignored it. But there was clearly an age to the paper - it was yellowish and looked fairly damaged from water and other elements.

Hesitantly, Goldie grabbed the envelope and flipped it around.

Her name was printed right on the front, in Scrooge's familiar handwriting. She felt her heart stop and she reached out her free hand to touch the ink, which dissolved under her touch, really showing its age.

She could feel how sensitive the paper of the envelope was and knew this would have to be a careful operation. Whether or not she wanted Scrooge to know she'd seen this had yet to be decided.

Slowly, Goldie opened up the envelope and tugged out the letter that was inside. She was embarrassed to admit to herself that she felt nervous. She had absolutely no idea what could be in this letter. It really all depended on when he wrote it.

Obviously it was after their first encounter, and based on the age, she figured it was probably before they went to Uluru. But that didn't give her much of a clue - they went on a lot of adventures together during those decades.

With a deep breath, Goldie opened the letter and started to read.

In less than two sentences, her eyes were sparkling and a bit watery, though she quickly wiped that away. This was definitely what he'd been keeping from her. What Duckworth didn't want her to see. What Scrooge definitely, absolutely, positively did not want her to read.

She cursed their younger selves for just a moment and considered how things could've been different had she seen this letter back then.

A moment later and Goldie was startled by a noise behind her. She turned her head in anticipation of an angry ghost, but instead there was Scrooge, standing in front of the door and smiling sadly at her.

She blushed. "I guess you caught me, huh?"

Scrooge hobbled over and breathed out a short laugh. “I’m just happy you’re still here. When the kids said you never came back, I figured you left.”

“Well...that’s understandable,” she said, turning back around and shoving the letter back in its envelope. She wasn’t sure if he saw her holding it and she wasn’t sure what to say to him about it.

“Duckworth mentioned you’d been trying to get into my desk earlier,” Scrooge said with a nonchalant shrug. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Goldie didn’t turn to him just yet, staring down at the envelope in her hands. She wanted to bring it up, but she didn’t know where that conversation would lead other than...places she wasn’t sure she wanted to go. It was from so long ago.

“Goldie?”

With a deep breath, she spun the chair and made sure Scrooge could clearly see what was in her hands.

He didn’t even flinch, though there was a light color on his cheeks that paired well with his smile. “Did you read it?”

Goldie played with the envelope, still staring down at it. “I did.”

“Ah.” Scrooge tapped against his cane. He took a few steps closer to her, but didn’t cross the room quite yet.

“Was this supposed to come with the chocolates?”

Scrooge chuckled and took off his hat, holding it to his chest and rubbing his thumb on the rim. “It was.”

Goldie stood up and closed the distance between them, stopping just in front of the top of his hat. “You said you lost them in an ice storm.”

“I did,” Scrooge said quickly. “But I got them back a few decades ago.”

“And you didn’t show me.”

“What would that have accomplished? I knew it was too late the next time I saw you.” Scrooge huffed and stared down at the envelope in her hands. “You were well out of Dawson already.”

“That’s true. I haven’t really settled in one place since then.” Goldie sighed again and tossed the envelope onto his bed. “But...I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“Maybe...maybe I would’ve said yes,” she finished her thought and finally looked up to lock eyes with him again, a deep blush on her cheeks.

Scrooge’s eyes sparkled and he sighed dreamily before freezing completely and then looking down at his hat. He glanced up at her and then down at the hat again.

“What’s wrong?”

He cleared his throat and avoided her gaze once again. “The chocolates may not have been the only thing I bought for you that day.”

She blinked a few times in shock at his confession. “Okay…”

“There was, um. One other thing.”

Her mind was reeling over the possibilities, though based on the content of the letter and his embarrassment throughout the day...one particular thought shone brightest. But the Scrooge of today wasn’t the same as the King of the Klondike. He wasn’t just frugal back then, he wouldn’t buy anything unless it was an absolute necessity. He wouldn’t buy...well. She hadn’t even thought he would buy chocolates for a pretty girl. Maybe he was full of surprises.

Scrooge tossed his cane to the side and stuck his hand into his top hat and shuffled around for a moment before stopping and then slowly pulling his arm back out. He tossed the hat towards his fallen cane and loudly exhaled before reaching down and grabbing Goldie’s left hand.

“What are you…-”

“Goldie, we’ve known each other a long time,” Scrooge started, hoping to whatever-was-out-there that she wouldn’t interrupt him. “And like you’ve said many times before, we’ve made countless mistakes.”

He took another deep breath. “When we were young again and you said you wanted to try startin’ over, changin’ things, fixin’ what we did wrong...there was one particular moment that came to mind. When I lost my sled with the letter and the chocolates, I still could’ve gone to Dawson. I could’ve just come with the shirt on my back and said my piece.

“But I felt like I couldn’t. That'd been one of the luckiest years of my life until I tried to get back to you and I thought that meant you were just bad luck. Losin’ that sled was a sign that I had to get back to work instead of going back to you.”

Goldie stayed silent - though she had a million comments to make, she could see from the look on his face that this wasn’t the time to make them.

“What I wanted to do back then, er…” Scrooge hesitated and looked down at his hand holding hers. “What I wanted to ask back then…”

He looked up and they locked eyes, both red in the face and sparkling. Scrooge opened his free hand to reveal a small, simple ring in his palm.

Goldie stared at the ring like it was something foreign. She knew what it meant, she knew exactly what he was saying and what he almost said to her so long ago. She picked it up and inspected it carefully, noting the simplicity and lack of any gems - there were no diamonds or rubies or pearls. It was engraved with a gorgeous Celtic carving, but was otherwise just a gold band.

She looked back at him, who was staring expectantly and starting to look nervous. She smiled sadly and curled her fingers around the ring, pressing it into her palm.

“Scrooge...you know I...I don’t -” Goldie felt herself hesitate. She wanted to just say yes and throw her arms around him, but it just didn’t feel right. Not with her. She wasn't ready...maybe she wouldn't ever be ready. The ring felt like it was burning through her skin - it wasn't painful, but there was an ache in her chest while she looked down at it. “You know this kind of thing just isn't me."

“I know, Dear,” Scrooge said softly, the expression on his face unchanging. “I’m not askin’ you to marry me, but...that ring was only ever meant for you. I want you to have it.”

She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes and quickly wiped them away, not wanting him to see. “I can’t believe you actually bought this.”

“It’s made from some of the gold you dug up while workin’ my claim.”

Goldie stared up at him in surprise, then back down at the ring, which suddenly felt lighter. Had she ever wanted to kiss him as much as she did in that moment? Her head started to feel funny - like she was laying on a cloud. She locked eyes with him again.

“I love you.”

Scrooge was breathless for only a moment, then simply smiled back at her - reveling in the moment and hoping it’d never end.

Goldie slid the ring onto her finger before she could stop herself. The burning sensation had stopped, and the dull ache from earlier was replaced by her heart pounding wildly as she stared at her hand. “It’s absolutely gorgeous. I never knew you had such good taste."

Scrooge grabbed her hand again and stared at the ring on her finger, rubbing his thumb on it and chuckling after a few seconds.

“What’s so funny?” Goldie asked, leaning her face closer to his.

“It took me a century to get a ring on your finger, Goldie Girl,” he answered softly, leaning in. “I never realized it’d feel this good.”

She pressed her beak against his and moved her free hand to the back of his head. “I can think of something that would feel even better…”

Scrooge kissed her back for a moment, but pulled away and laughed awkwardly, squeezing her hand lightly. “I know I’m gonna regret this, but...would you come back down with me? Finish the movie...spend a little more time with my family before bed?”

Goldie hummed and rolled her eyes. “You’ve asked so much of me today and I’ve been surprisingly accommodating.”

“You have.”

“And yet still you ask for more.”

He just smiled at her again - a familiar look of admiration that both frustrated her and made her cheeks light up.

Her hand moved around his head and she slid her pointer finger under his beak, stopping at the tip. “...alright.”

His eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really.” She pecked his beak one more time. “But I’m sitting on your lap for the rest of the movie. I wanna see how much PDA Beakley can take before she snaps.”

Scrooge smiled and his eyes sparkled again, squeezing her hand tighter and desperately enjoying the feeling of metal between their fingers. “You’re a devil of a woman.”

Goldie rushed out of the bedroom - Scrooge being dragged along by their connected hands, and she tried to deny the feeling of joy when she spotted some of the kids waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs.

“I told you she was still here,” Sharpie said, taking a sip of his Pep and walking back to the living room.

Dewey let out a WHOOP! and pumped his fist in the air before following his brother while Donald, Huey, and Webby stood there and waited for the two lovebirds to reach the ground floor.

“Are you good…?” Donald asked Scrooge, clearly nervous as to what the answer might be. Yes or no could be equally disastrous.

Scrooge gave him a good slap on the shoulder. “Never better, Nephew! Let’s head back before the film ends!”

He, Goldie, and Donald made their way back towards the living room, but Webby and Huey trailed from behind and stared. Specifically, Webby stared directly at the old couple's locked hands, which felt...different. She couldn’t contain the feeling that something was being purposefully hidden from them.

She looked at Huey, who followed her line of sight with a raised eyebrow. He leaned to the side and angled his view to get a better look. Webby followed suit.

Only a second later did they both catch a glimpse of gold and they simultaneously gasped, covering their respective beaks to avoid screaming.

The three adults turned to them in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” Scrooge asked.

The kid’s eyes darted between Scrooge and his hand and then to each other, where they came to a silent conclusion.

“N-Nothing! It’s nothing!” Webby finally squeaked out, Huey nodding excessively next to her.

Though a little confused, the adults seemed satisfied with that and continued walking to the living room. Webby and Huey locked eyes again and once the others were out of the foyer, Webby started tapping her feet and Huey flapped his arms in excitement.

“What does this mean?!” Webby whispered as loudly as possible.

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Huey squeezed his fists and held them close to his chest. “I’ve always wanted to plan a wedding!”

They clasped their hands together and danced around for a few seconds before Beakley popped her head into the foyer and stared at them.

“Are you two coming? It’s ending soon.”

Webby spun around and did some cartwheels towards her grandmother while Huey walked normally behind her. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

Huey sighed dreamily, leaning his cheek against his locked hands. “I’m just glad there’s a happy ending!”

Beakley stared curiously at the two children and shrugged. She didn't realize they'd seen the movie before.

[ithinkthereforiamfandom]

A thank you to @sherlockedcarmilla for being my 1st follower, I hit 200 followers and promised 2000 words. Johnlock Fluff with the prompt “Case and John getting hurt and John realising Sherlock loves him so fucking much” as requested. (No Mary, Johnlock)

John cursed every time Sherlock’s phone went off, he had only been Alive again for two months and was still recovering but if John were honest with himself … Sherlock was well enough to work again but he just didn’t want the man out of 221B yet. Loosing him had made John realise that he loved him but conquering the network had made Sherlock feel immortal and the idiot had been practically floating since John moved back in. He had started taking every case available since he’d been given John’s begrudging okay over the weekend.

Now it was only Thursday and John was fed up with the notifications of texts from Greg, at least that pornographic sigh had died with his previous phone but still! So they went on cases and while most of NSY were leery of working with a ghost at least Greg had been excited to have the genius back.

…

The case was boring and would have been a two before the fall but with John at his back Sherlock would chase down every tiresome art thief in London, just to hear the steady pounding steps behind him. John had moved back in and Sherlock was ecstatic, he had London, and the work, and John Watson. He had won!

So when a shot rang out and John tumbled to the ground with a cut off gasp behind him, Sherlock realised that those who won had something to loose. The noise played in his mind palace for days.

…

John had been cursing as he ran, cursing thieves, and his foolish heart, and those lovely, Lovely long legs beneath Sherlock as they carried him further away. Too fast. John accelerated around the corner to keep up, which is why he was hit in the arm and not his spine.

The shooter had seen him shift and led their target incorrectly… John only found this out days after the blazing pain knocked him sideways and crashing his head into a dumpster plunging him into darkness.

For three days.

He knew he was in a hospital, that he’d been shot in the bloody arm and that Sherlock was there. He had drifted closer to the surface at times, mostly when he had been transported from the NHS clinic to some fancy private place. Sherlock had been scolding him quietly all the way there but John had been unable to tell him to stop fussing.

He knew that he was in trouble with Sherlock but he was mostly unconscious so everyone else had to deal with the genius’ anxiety and if he could feel the rest of his body he might have smiled at the tyrannical mother-hen his flatmate had become. Three days was a long time to do nothing but sleep and when he was aware all he could do was lie there and listen, and think.

“John, this really is unnecessary of you, dramatic really. It’s a through and through, you had far worse Soldier but you had to go and hit your dead on a bloody dumpster, John Really!” Like the faux par of maiming his head on a common garbage dumpster was his greatest sin. John drifted off again smelling over brewed tea with too much sugar.

“John, please. Come back. I know I left you but it was for a good reason and this is just unfair of you.” There was an honest to god sniff and John felt his heart clench. The kick was too small for the monitors to see but Sherlock seemed to observe it and cold fingers tightened around his hand… had Sherlock been holding it this whole time?

An argument woke him fully on the third morning. It seems Greg had arrived to lay down the law that three days was too long with no proper food, decent sleep, or a shower. “He’s supposed to wake up!” “Sherlock, you said yourself he’s been stirring so you should head home, eat, rest, wash. Cause when he wakes up you’ll be busy. You’re a bit of a mess mate, it’s not going to impress him.”

John could hear the tap of dress shoes as Sherlock paced. “I’m not trying to impress John, he already thinks I’m impressive. I just want him to come back.” Sherlock’s voice sounded tight. “He will Sunshine. When he’s ready you’ll have him back okay? Now an hour or three is all I’m saying.” There was a thump as Greg wrapped an arm around Sherlock’s shoulders and the pacing taps stopped for a few seconds. John cracked his eye open and saw a long blur shifting swiftly from the door to the sink at the opposite wall.

This place must be swanky if Sherlock can take that many strides to cross the room. In his drug addled state he was reminded of his Mum, when his Dad had been sick in hospital. Mum had paced like that and explained, at John & Harry’s pale looks, that she loved Dad and was worried about him. Sherlock paced, looking at the bed but not observing so John had a few repetitions to watch Sherlock Holmes pace, and love him.

“John!” “At last" Greg looked almost as relieved as Sherlock, who dashed to his bedside and sank into a well worn looking chair. The same long cold fingers he remembered tightened around his hand, the action was so smooth he knew that Sherlock hadn’t left his side, or let go for the last three days. He intended to say I love you but the words got stuck in his throat and the coughing drew a small flurry of medical staff.

It was nearing the end of the mandatory coherency test that John realised that Sherlock wasn’t stapled to his bedside anymore. The initial rush of medical staff had died down and it was just himself and the beleaguered doctor who had been assigned to him, and by apparent extension also to Sherlock, who had set himself against the wall near the sink and not said a word for almost thirty minutes.

…

John was awake, he was alive, seemed to have a touch of retrograde amnesia but everyone seemed very happy with his condition…could Sherlock have him back now? John was trying not to stare at him but after looking hopelessly lost for a few seconds had spotted Sherlock and seemed to just start winding himself up.

He waited until the end of all the medical stuff and slipped into his chair nudging past the doctor who was finalizing John’s file. A strong hand clamped down on his fingers and John squeezed his hand tightly. “You didn’t let go did you, while I was out.” John spoke quietly despite the doctor already having left. “It’s like my hand remembers yours.”

Pink touched scruffy cheeks and Sherlock felt his own face flush in response “No, I didn’t, couldn’t, not until you woke up John.” “You won’t now will you? Please?” Sherlock tried and failed to hide his pleased smile as their hands slipped into place. “No John, I won’t let go. I was so glad when you returned to me, uh, to 221B. Mrs Hudson had been beside herself after…”

…

The silence could almost kill him but John knew what he meant, he had initially refused to return to the flat. Angry and hurt at being lied to and left behind but the beautiful idiot had looked so forlorn whenever he visited and left. Mrs Hudson was far from beside herself as she had actually been instrumental in his return. Prepping his room and quietly getting his favourite tea in.

All the little things where there to point to his coming back but John had still been faced with a shocked Sherlock when he arrived with his bags. Now he was going home again and now he Knew why. Why Sherlock fussed and hovered… he loved him.

… three days home from the hospital…

John’s heart had been pitter-pattering for days now and he felt like a teenager but nothing seemed to have changed for Sherlock who was still all Sherlocky and it was driving John to distraction. He wanted to yell that he loved Sherlock back but there was just no space for the revelation when their routine had simply continued.

Discontented and thoroughly lovesick John was sighing to himself when a hand smacked the back of his chair. He jumped to see a highly perturbed Martha Hudson staring at him. “Tell him! John Watson you tell that man you love him. You’ve been sighing and grumping about this place by turns for days! Poor Sherlock is at the Shops! Buying dinner because he’s worried about you.” Her gentle fingers stroked his temple, his mum had used to do that to him. “Doesn’t he deserve to know Dearie?”

Moments later there were careful feet on the stairs and a rustle of bags on the kitchen table revealed a pile of produce making it’s way into the fridge. “I wasn’t sure what you would want John, so I…” “bought all of it?” “Yes well. Overkill is under-rated.” John took Sherlock’s hand off the aubergines and led him to the lounge.

“You. I want you Sherlock.” Colour bloomed across pale skin. “because I love you and I think you love me too don’t you?” John’s heart froze because he didn’t expect the collapse but Sherlock sat down like he’d been struck over the head and thank god he had been near his chair. “Yes, well yes John I do love you.” His eyes flickered from the grocery bags to John’s face. “The hospital Sherlock, I figured it out in the hospital but you can do the shopping whenever you like.”

John grinned and found himself climbing onto Sherlock’s lap. Hands settled on his back before moving slowly over his hips, thighs and grazing his bum. Huge hands John thought to himself and they felt so good as the cycle of exploratory touching repeated. Sherlock kept touching him like he couldn’t believe John was real. “Love you.” John whispered and leaned in to kiss that perfect mouth.

The reaction was electric, there was a slow groan, and exhale that seemed to come from Sherlock’s gut as the wondering hands settled over his butt, squeezing. One hand stayed in place blatantly possessive and the other wrapped around John’s head cradling his jaw and ruffling fingers through his hair. Sherlock kissed like he did everything else, completely. He drew John’s tongue out with his own and shifted to push his body against John’s weight in his lap.

John was debating between staying in the lounge for some frottage on the floor or pulling his blushing madman to a bedroom when the question was resolved for him. Hard muscles bunched in Sherlock’s body as he stood, lifting John with him. “Oi!” John was a bit startled but got a surprisingly firm “Hush!” and another kiss shut him up.

…

Sherlock finally had John in his arms and he was not letting go, it felt too good. The weight of him and the shift of his muscles made Sherlock pick up his pace. His bed, his John, he wanted to get started asap before he could wake up from this marvellous dream! He was tugging frantically at an ugly jumper when a smooth rush of motion put him on his back.

“Slow down, slowly Lock, we have time.” Sandy grey mixed into dark curls as John pressed his forehead to the whirling mind underneath. “I’m not going anywhere, okay. I finally have you, and you have me now. Let’s enjoy this okay.” John’s hands undressed him quite pleasantly so he decided to let John finish before he grabbed the bottom hem of boring beige and pulled.

…

Sherlock naked looked like a statue, a bit battered but so Lovely. John’s shirt came off and instinct hid his softened belly behind his hands. “No.” A velvet baritone demanded and agile hands pulled his own away. Long arms wrapped around him and Sherlock flipped them over again. “No John, I want to see all of you.” Those amazing eyes stared down at him and john subsided, melted rather into the mattress.

Slowly, John wanted to do things slowly and for them to enjoy each other so Sherlock enjoyed slowly undressing his John. It felt like Christmas! Unwrapping the present he had been watching patiently under the tree. Tan lines, and scars, and birth marks, Gifts! All of John just for him. Then John’s hands ghosted over the scars on his shoulders and the world froze as shame and a hideous vulnerability flooded through him.

…

Scars, there were scars on Sherlock’s back. John was exploring too, but it felt like walking through an art gallery. Every beautiful painting he had ever seen faded in comparison to the loveliness and strength above him. Sherlock had stopped moving, and breathing, and John stared in horror as water filled his lover’s eyes. “Sherlock? You’re lovely. My LovelyLove. I know, it’s fine. Stay with me.” John whispered quickly into a blood red ear and kissed shaking lips. The response was immediate.

…

John! John had kissed him, scars and all. He leaned down and deepened the kiss. Something had snapped in that moment and he couldn’t figure out if something had broken or snapped into place. But John was with him and everything else fell away as the sun's light faded from the curtains.

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