Disclaimer: Not mine.

AN: Hope this story isn't confusing for you. The italics go backward in time. Enjoy.

A cheer went up around the floor, making Gregson glance up with a smile and a sense of overwhelming relief as he saw the people who hadn't been lying in wait on either side of the corridor immediately flow that way.

Bell knocked on the door with his own relieved grin. "They're back," he almost sang with delight.

"I heard," he nodded as the cheer grew to almost encompass anything else. "It's about time."

(Yesterday, they took immense satisfaction at closing possibly the worst case the Precinct could dream up outside of It Actually Happening. He was proud of all of them despite initial misgivings.)

They took up post against the door leading to the bullpen, patiently waiting for their turn as others took their claimed moment.

(Two days ago, a bee shaped post-it note on the cleared message board started counting down the hours left before they got back from their weeklong trip to Europe. At least one person was planning to listen to the no-doubt rambling account of events and everyone couldn't wait to hear it.)

It took a few moments for the two behind the excitement to come into view and both he and Bell almost started laughing at the utterly bewildered looks on the both of their faces. They would have, too, if they thought they would be able to stop.

Or that the hysterical laughter wouldn't suddenly turn into sobs of relief.

(Three days ago, more than frustration caused some unchecked tears. Gregson had had to fight back his own as he comforted one of his people who couldn't stop seeing familiar faces in her dreams, the rest of the 11th chasing down every lead they could sniff out to find the person responsible and take him out. Who hadn't been having dreams since the case started?)

Holmes and Watson spied them, but couldn't reach them since cop after cop kept coming up to welcome them back.

(Four days ago, everyone was on-call for their Top Priority because even those technically off-duty were constantly checking in to see what they could do to help. If nothing else, paperwork was being filled out faster than it could be processed and the multi-tasking skills were definitely being put to the test as everyone juggled more than they usually did. It was worth it, though, when something started to break and they started getting information.)

After the others had finally let the pair go, Gregson could barely stifle his beaming smile as Bell opened his arms.

"Well, if it isn't the Consultants of the Hour!" the younger man chirped as Watson accepted the hug and Gregson reached out a hand to Holmes before they switched and Holmes and Watson almost greeted each other by force of habit.

(Five days ago, there had almost been a Precinct war when someone from a different Precinct had come in and said something about it being 'blessedly quiet' now that Holmes was gone. Several people had had to dive to keep someone else from punching his lights out and a few others had piled on top of Bell to keep him from committing homicide. Gregson had taken great pleasure in tossing the interloper out and calling the man's superiors.)

"Did you have a nice trip?" Gregson innocently asked as Holmes' mouth worked uselessly for long moments.

"We were only gone for a week," Watson was just as astonished as her partner. "That crowd made me wonder if we were in some kind of time slowing bubble."

"Don't be ridiculous, Watson," Holmes sniffed. "No such thing, as I'm quite certain that you are aware."

"Well, it just made me wonder why everyone is acting like we've been gone for years. Or something happened, I don't know."

There was something about their body language that gave it away because two pairs of deducing eyes swung toward them and latched on.

(Six days ago, Bell had noticed someone pinning a green post it note on the message board and curiosity drove him to see the question written there. When he got back three hours later, almost ten pages' worth of signatures agreed to the Final Call Badge Number '221-11'.)

"Did something happen?" Watson frowned with concern.

"Can't recall," Gregson shook his head before looking at Bell. "You?"

"Don't remember, either," he shrugged.

"Clearly something has," Holmes scowled, probably knowing they were lying and Gregson probably not caring. "Otherwise, that – that –," he waved a hand, "fuss wouldn't have happened and Watson and myself wouldn't have had our persons accosted!"

"Maybe we're just happy you're back," Gregson suggested.

(Because seven days ago exactly, a call had come in. Two victims. One Chinese female. One UK male. Half the Precinct had been convinced –

Gregson had had to make sure nothing else was about to come up before getting shakily to his feet. Everyone had gathered for a meeting in what seemed like seconds and the only information he had to give them was that the two bodies were no one they knew, were obviously not on a flight to Europe, and that everyone should just take a minute to breathe.

Dr. Hawes had refused to let anyone else handle the double autopsies and lost what was in his stomach directly afterward.

Bell had talked at least three others out of begging Gregson to give the case to someone else. He was trying to make it convincing that they had to see this as a test run because he, for one, wasn't going to let someone else take credit for what was seen as their right. If they couldn't solve this, then they wouldn't be able to solve it when It Actually Happened. Not like he was going to let himself get benched then, either.

The Precinct had unanimously put the double homicide as Top Priority and updates kept everyone apprised every four hours as they took shifts to work on it in addition to their already active cases. This was Top Priority to them, not everyone else, and they couldn't let personal feelings – completely – take them over. They were professionals.

But even professionals broke down in tears when they were scared that they wouldn't be able to solve it when it mattered. When they kept staring at the pictures on the central board and seeing two others who were alive and well and out of the country where they couldn't just drop everything when something was wrong and rush to the rescue. When memories completely overwhelmed them and the surge of longing was so strong.

Bell figured that no one was letting either leave the country again anytime soon, some ready to keep them at the Precinct where – almost – nothing could happen to them.

He also found some of the Uniforms writing down favorite memories or interactions in attempt to comfort themselves and he was also fairly certain there was now a growing binder full of the same as others trickled past and caught sight of what they were writing. He just hoped that it wasn't found and destroyed.)

"Something happened," Holmes accused, eyes narrowed. "The reaction our return was met with proves it."

"Why can't we just be glad you're back?" Bell shrugged.

"Because that wasn't something consultants usually experience when they get back from… vacation," Watson tilted her head with her own narrowed gaze, but Gregson and Bell stared serenely back at them.

"Welcome back, you two," Gregson smiled cryptically and left it there.

But it was true.

They were consultants. Not cops.

They weren't bound by the same rules that the rest of them were and could get away with a little more as a result. Sometimes, it backfired and blew up in their faces and then damage control would have to begin.

When all was said and done at day's end, however, Holmes and Watson were theirs.

And they took care of their own.

END