So. Dragonlock. Smauglock. Johnbo. However you'd like to call it. This is going to happen. Will Sherlock and John end up a couple? I'd be happy if they did. If I have overwhelming fan demand for them to be brothers though, I could be persuaded to keep them as such. XD In either case...expect Mycroft and Lestrade to make appearances in Middle Earth. [Can you imagine Mycroft trying to pull big brother rank on Dragon!Sherlock?] Maybe Moriarty. Hmm. This takes place two years after the end of season 2. Some license has been taken. Particularly it will be taken in Middle Earth. I'll try to keep places and people canon, but don't expect the story to follow canon because...well, that just wouldn't make sense. Enjoy! XD~

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Unbelievable. That was the only word he could possibly think to apply to Sherlock Holmes. And he was, really he was. The way that he could deduce such impossible conclusions from such small details, the way he never missed anything, the way he failed to understand such apparently simple things simply because he was so very smart. Perhaps that was why he had no idea the effect his 'death' had had on John Watson, or any one else for that matter. Or perhaps he had 'logically concluded' that any 'sentiment' would be gotten over with time. Well, apparently Sherlock hadn't let enough time pass, because John was far from 'over it'.

"S-Sherlock..." John breathed, or choked, he wasn't sure. Perhaps he had forgotten to breathe.

Sherlock offered a thin smile in return, as if aware of his effect and amused by it. "Hello, John."

John furiously scrubbed the dish he was holding, teeth gritted at the sudden memory. Two years, two years Sherlock had been 'dead'. And then he just waltzed in without so much as a bloody by your leave, and acted as though nothing had changed. That was something else that Sherlock failed to understand then, everything had changed.

John and Sherlock had decided to finish their reunion outside of the restaurant, and in an alley around the corner, John continued the budding anger he'd began unleashing inside. Because once he'd gotten past the joy, and the pain, and the 'sentimental' aspects...he was furious. Particularly with how Sherlock was acting.

"Two years, Sherlock. Two years...you let me think you were dead."

"I am aware." Sherlock said plaintively, as if he couldn't see the relevance and felt Watson were unnecessarily stating the obvious. "That was the point." he added, somewhat slowly when Watson didn't respond, as if thinking the other didn't understand the concept which only infuriated the shorter man more.

"The point? What bloody point! Sherlock...I thought you were dead...I mourned you. Do you understand? I...Sherlock, you were gone." John's voice broke a moment and he coughed to clear his throat as frustration and pain welled up within him. Losing Sherlock had been like losing a part of himself, he hadn't realized how integral Sherlock had become to him until he was gone. He hadn't had a life after returning from the army, he'd been half a man at best, a shell. Sherlock had made him whole, given him a purpose, a home...a family.

"I'm sorry, John." Sherlock finally said, after a moment of watching the emotions run over John's face. Sherlock apologizing? It was a bloody miracle. "I had to do it, but I never intended for you to be hurt by it."

"What did you expect I would be?" John snapped back in exasperation.

"I assumed you would move on to some degree." Of course, naturally John's life wouldn't be quite complete without him, but he was here to remedy that now.

"M...Move on? Like it's so bloody easy...Sherlock...you don't get it, do you? You're not even really sorry, are you? How can you be? You don't even understand why I'm upset."

"You missed me. I...understand the sentiment." Even he, Sherlock Holmes, could admit that he felt...a certain longing for John's presence in their time apart. He was rather used to the other man. Clearly he'd said something wrong again though, because John looked at him as though he'd sprouted another head or some such.

"Missed you? Are you...Sherlock...losing you...it really...you were my best friend. The closest...the closest thing to family I have outside of Harry and she's not much to go on. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Sherlock wanted to understand, he really did, if only for John's sake. But he considered John his best friend and surrogate family as well, and he wasn't in hysterics over the whole thing. "Yes, of course."

John didn't look convinced. "Okay, then what? What does it mean to you?"

"John..."

"I'm serious, Sherlock. What does it mean to you?" John demanded.

Sherlock drew a long breath before he finally replied. "That I hurt you, for which I am truly sorry." he tried an apology again. "I did what I had to do, I had to disappear, John. And any one who looked for me would have looked to you first. You, more than any one, I had to stay away from. Because any one who knows me would know that you are...the most important person in my life." he admitted, and he was relieved when John's expression finally softened, although there was a bitter twist to his lips.

"I really missed you, Sherlock." John finally said, and his gaze dropped from Sherlock's. "I don't think you really understand, because you're you...but I did. Do. But you were wrong. You could have stayed, we could fixed things...I saw you jump off a building, you lied to me-tried to say that it was all just an act...you just gave up and left me. You didn't trust me."

"It wasn't about trust-"

"-Then what was it? If you had asked me, I'd have gone with you to lay low. I'dve had your back. I would have helped you fix things."

"It wasn't that simple, John."

"Yeah...never is with you, is it, Sherlock?" John gave a bitter chuckle and after a moment's silence, John shook his head to himself before he met Sherlock's gaze again. "Things have changed."

"Yes, I know...Mycroft told me, you've got your own place now. But Mrs. Hudson has our flat for let again, I've got a bit of money to get us started and-" A snort from John cut him off.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Sherlock stared at the smaller man. "I've returned for good, for the moment anyway," he said because it was in his nature to be technical and not disclude the possibility of needing to leave again, "Naturally, we'll live together again. There's no reason not to start back at it, I have a case lined up actually."

John's eyes widened slightly and he stiffened when Sherlock mentioned 'for the moment'. Did Sherlock mean to leave again some time? Could he wake up some day and simply find Sherlock missing from his life again, a gaping hole left in his chest where his friend's presence had once filled? "No." he said sharply, and Sherlock actually looked mildly taken aback. "Things have changed." he repeated.

Sherlock huffed slightly and waved a dismissive hand, his moment of near-sincerity interrupted by his usual arrogance personality. "Yes, as I said, I know. I was being rather accommodating, I thought-"

"-Accommodations...? Sherlock...you're not human!"

"...Yes, well, you've known that all along, haven't you?" Sherlock replied archly, whether from being offended or even possibly hurt, John wasn't sure. Perhaps he was being serious. "All of the sudden it's a problem?"

John practically gaped at Sherlock. How could some one, especially some one so smart...possibly be so very stupid? "I have a job, and a life now, Sherlock. I like where I live, and I've gotten used to not being in the line of fire every bloody day. It's not always exciting, but it has it's perks."

Sherlock scrunched his nose distastefully. "You've just acclimated to a situation. Once we start working together again, you'll be-"

"-You don't get it." John cut him off again. "We won't be working together again, Sherlock. That's done. We aren't living together. I have a roommate. My fiance, Mary."

And for possibly the first time since John had met him, [other than seeing Irene Adler in her 'battle suit'] Sherlock looked struck dumb. His eyes immediately went to John's hand, and John shook his head.

"Took the ring off, had a bit of a messy day at the hospital."

"You're engaged." Sherlock stated blankly.

"That's right."

"...But you're...so terrible with women."

John stared and then snorted. "Because you're such an expert? Sorry to disappoint you, Sherlock, but once I wasn't caught up in your messes...it was considerably easier to hold a steady relationship."

If Sherlock was hurt by the comment, he gave no indication, but he did seem to straighten just slightly. "I see..."

"Do you?"

Sherlock stared at John a long moment before he inclined his head. "Then...I suppose you don't want to work together...even intermittently?"

John had a feeling this was as close as he'd ever come to seeing Sherlock look like a kicked puppy, and angry and hurt as he was by the other, he was irrationally tempted to soothe him. But he bit his tongue on that front. "No, I do not." That was a lie, but he had to draw the line somewhere and it began with Mary now. As he'd said, things had changed.

"...And what about us?"

"Us?" John repeated, a bit surprised by the question and it's meaning.

"Are we...still friends?" Sherlock actually seemed a little uncertain, an unusual state for him.

John was surprised indeed and he stared at Sherlock with a lifted brow a moment before he settled on an answer. "We're...not...not friends...but Sherlock, you...really hurt me. You did a very...what you did was wrong. I'm not going to lie, I'm angry with you. Things can't be like they were..." Sherlock's shoulders actually seemed to hunch slightly, and he softened a little. "That being said...I do want...you in my life. If possible. If you'd care to be."

"I would." Sherlock said, rather softly for once, and he didn't hesitate as John might have expected.

John sighed and then moved forward to pull Sherlock into a tight hug. "Welcome home, Sherlock."

Sherlock stiffened at first, but then his long arms snaked around John and hugged the smaller man tightly. "Thank you, John. It's good to be home..."

The dish in John's hand shattered when a hard swipe caused it to fly out of his hands and onto the ground. He cursed as he bent down to start cleaning it. Nearly two weeks later, Sherlock's apparent acquiescence was clearly not fated to last. Which was likely how he'd found himself running for his life, yet again, missed a date with Mary and work, and wound up with a nearly broken arm. It was still sore. Because Sherlock had made himself sound injured, and John had rushed to his side, and been dragged headlong into a case. Sherlock had tried to play innocent, that he hadn't meant to misrepresent his condition, that he wasn't trying to persuade John back into the fold...but John wasn't stupid, for all that Sherlock seemed to think so. And whatever measure of forgiveness he'd worked up for the other had rather faded in the face of Sherlock's...heartlessness.

John wasn't going to cut Sherlock out of his life, no matter what, he knew he could never do that...but Sherlock was on thin ice and for now, John was determined to ignore him.

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Two weeks after Sherlock's reunion with John, he had another case, one involving an apparently cursed ring that caused any one who came into contact with it to go mad. They'd start raving about fantastical realms, and being other people, and all sorts of nonsense before they'd suddenly die a few days later in mysterious circumstances. Four lives had been claimed thus far. Sherlock had had the ring for a full day, against Mycroft's orders to turn it in [since he wanted to study it and didn't believe in curses], and nothing had happened. Not until a pair of mercenaries turned up to steal it for the highest bidder, and he'd gotten himself a rather fierce cut across the chest. Sherlock had bested one mercenary despite the injury and blood, and had another to go, and didn't notice that the ring had turned red after apparently sucking up a bit of his blood.

John, who had forgone dishes in favor of sitting in his chair, frowned when his phone rang and Mycroft's name popped up. He hesitated before he begrudgingly answered. "Don't tell me he wants you to plead his case, Mycroft? It's not going to work. He's on time-out." John huffed.

"John, I believe Sherlock may be in trouble. I need you to go to him. He's at 2231 W. Parlour Main St. I am in the middle of a crucial diplomatic meeting or I would go myself."

John snorted, not believing it for a moment after Sherlock had already just cried wolf. But still, turning to Mycroft for help, was he that desperate then? "Right. He's in trouble. And you'd actually get out from behind your desk. Nice try, Mycroft...I'll talk to you later-"

"-John Watson!" Mycroft's voice was sharp, he'd never heard it so sharp before. He sounded...genuinely worried? "He was investigating a rather...unusual case. I've just been informed that an interested party sent some rather well-paid and very efficient mercenaries after him and he hasn't contacted me in a day and half, although he should have been here last night. Whatever is between you two, I must ask you, John...please...you are the only person I can trust my brother's welfare to. I believe he needs you."

John was flabbergasted. And now convinced. "What was that address again?" he asked urgently, already up as sudden concern filled him. Memories of nightmares and restless nights, seeing Sherlock fall over and over again in his mind, teary, bitter days and nights blaming himself...the pain, the loss, he couldn't do it again.

"2231 W. Parlour Main St. Hurry, John. Thank you."

Sherlock...you'd better be alright. John's thoughts were anxious as he hailed a taxi and raced off to the appointed address.

Mycroft ended the call and bit his lip as he tapped his phone anxiously on the chair. He'd had a bad feeling, and while he wasn't one for gut instincts and 'feelings'...this was something honed from years of being a big brother. The way he could somehow sense when Sherlock was about to mix unstable chemicals, or try to eat an unsavory mushroom, or examine the inside of a surly dog's mouth...his big brother sense, as sentimental and silly as that was, was practically on fire and if it weren't truly a matter of national importance that he finish this meeting, he would be by his brother's side already.

Hurry, John.

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Fire. There was fire every where.

Bilbo Baggins stared in horror from his vantage in Erebor as Smaug made good on his wicked intent and headed down to Dale to cause destruction and end the line of Bard. He had to stop him, he had to stop this somehow, but what could he do? Still, he had to try, didn't he? Also, Bofur, Fili, and Kili were down there, they were in trouble...

"Burglar!"

Bilbo whirled around to find Thorin behind him. "Thorin! The town, he's going to burn it, he's going to kill them all-"

"There's no time for that!" Thorin snapped. "Where is it? Where is the Arkenstone?"

Bilbo stared up at the dwarf in stunned silence a moment before he pointed towards Dale. "Smaug is going after Dale, they'll all die."

"Then they'll die! We can't fight a dragon alone, we need the stone to unite the dwarves. Then we can worry about slaying Smaug. If he returns and we haven't got the stone, we're doomed."

Bilbo continued to stare, and was it his imagination, or did Thorin seem more haggard somehow, darker? "Fili and Kili are there, and Bofur. Are you so ready for them to die as well?"

Thorin stiffened, and his eyes widened slightly as if he'd forgotten. His eyes went to the village and he seemed ready to head towards it a moment before he shook his head. "If we leave now, we are good as dead ourselves. Our only hope is to find the Arkenstone. It's the only way to save us, and the others from the wrath of Smaug."

Thorin wasn't perfect; he was angry, and could be foolish, and even selfish...but still...he seemed like a hero to Bilbo somehow, so ready to fight for his people, striving so hard to reclaim his home and family but...now, in this moment...he seemed more like a villain or a madman. "The Arkenstone was in the main chamber, where Smaug was...it should be near the bottom of the pile now."

"Then let's go." Thorin started to turn, but Bilbo shook his head.

"No, I'm going to Dale."

Thorin's eyes widened. "Then you go to die! You're our burglar, your place is here-"

"-My place is where I say it is. And I say it's down there with them. The people of Dale, our company, the people Smaug is going to kill just to spite us. Maybe there is nothing I can, but I can at least try. That stupid stone won't do them any good, and it's them that I care about. Do what you like, Thorin." Bilbo looked at Thorin expectantly, but when the dwarf simply stared and did not move, Bilbo frowned in disappointment and shook his head. "Suit yourself. Good luck finding your precious stone." He understood to a degree, he truly did. This was Thorin's life pursuit and he was so close, this was what he had built all his hopes on...but in the face of Smaug and the destruction of Dale, of his family and friends...that should have meant something.

Bilbo thought of Fili and Kili, of Bofur, of Bard and his small children, the hopeful people of Dale. "Just hold on." he whispered as he ran as fast as his feet would carry him, straight to Dale and the wrath of Smaug.

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So...sleepy...hopefully this is all coherent. Definitely some angstyness and such but...it's been two years, Watson had his heart wrenched out, Sherlock's been unwittingly missing his brains out in his own sociopathic way...and so on and so forth. Thorin is going mad. What else is new? Also, does anyone care what Bilbo and Smaug are up to inhabiting Sherlock and John's bodies? Should I bother? Maybe Smaug vs Moriarty? XD Reviews are like verbal hugs and feed my soul! Enjoy!~ Witchy~