"It's certainly still your home," Watson said. Truthfully, it had been hard to adjust to Baker street without Holmes, and if Holmes was here to occupy it again, then he couldn't do anything to prevent that from coming to pass.

He twisted his fingers around his glass, feeling anxious and awkward, stealing small glances at Holmes when he thought he wasn't looking. He felt like some shy young boy in the company of a girl he was sweet on but who was socially beyond him. Part of him hated himself for being so... well, so weak, so vulnerable to Holmes.

But good God, had Watson ever missed him. And he didn't know what to do.

"It's good to have you home," he said.