"Sherlock, you're back." John choked out. Sherlock gracefully slid into a chair next to the Doctor, "You remembered the sugar, John" Sherlock observed quietly.

"You're welcome." John said. The two men sat side by side in absolute silence for a while. The amount of tea in Sherlock's cup had significantly diminished before John finally spoke again.

Sherlock almost flinched back, expecting torrent of angry, bitter, accusations to come pouring out of John's mouth, but the only thing that John said was, "How have you been?"

Sherlock downed the last of his tea before answering. "I am fine John, I have never felt better." said Sherlock.

John nodded, then picked up both his and Sherlock's teacups and walked into the kitchen, to deposit them in the sink.

Sherlock stared at John's retreating back in something akin to confusion. "You - you are not angry at me John?" Sherlock questioned.

"Not really." John called back, his voice drifting out from the interior of the kitchen.

Sherlock's high-tuned mind was racing, he had expected a more dramatical reaction from his friend, but despite his uneasiness at John's behavior, Sherlock let it pass.

John has accepted him again without complaint, and that is all that Sherlock wants at that moment. Even if he wouldn't admit it.

When John exited the kitchen, he found that Sherlock has migrated to the living room couch, and was sitting with his feet propped up on a coffee table.

Sherlock looked at John as he entered the room, "Why did you break your dishes John?" asks Sherlock unexpectedly. "Your old set was much nicer than the new one."

John rolled his eyes, "Sherlock, it's getting late." he said. "Go to sleep then" remarked Sherlock dryly. "Your bed is right where you left it." retorted John, "And all the blankets are in your closet."

"Very well, John" said Sherlock. The detective rose to his feet and began to move down the hallway towards his old bedroom, he paused before entering the room. "Don't let the bedbugs bite John, because it is apparent that you have quite the infestation." Sherlock called down the hallway.

"Go to bed Sherlock" John growled irritably, scratching at a red bite mark behind his ear. "Do you need ointment for that?" Sherlock grinned, before going into his bedroom.

When John heard the door close behind Sherlock, he let himself collapse onto the couch, right on the same place that Sherlock was previously occupying.

John closes his eyes and counted to three, as if on cue, Sherlock's voice shouted down the hallway, "Where are my pajamas, John !"

John let a small smile creep onto his face, finally after three long years, a fleeting feeling of normalcy was returning.