Hello everyone! Another Johnlock one-shot! I couldn't help myself! I just love the two of them so much. Hurry up season 3!

This is all me- no beta- so all mistakes are my own and I apologize for them.

Summary: AU- John is finally home from war and Sherlock had finally broken out of his sullen mood- The Yarders, who don't know about John, are surprised by Sherlock's rapid change in behaviour- especially when he turns down a case. Established Johnlock.

Hope you all enjoy!

The Solider Returns

Lestrade ran a frustrated hand through his hair and down his face. He cupped his chin and let out a loud sigh. A victim had been found murdered with no signs of obvious trauma. His forensic team- Anderson- were at a loss of how the tall blonde had died.

Lestrade was getting desperate. "I'm going to call him."

Anderson looked up sharply, his face dropping. "Lestrade, don't call him. He's a psychopath and we don't need him."

"Can you determine what killed her?" Lestrade shot back.

Anderson said nothing but he scowled deeply, letting Lestrade know that he wasn't okay with his decision.

Lestrade pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts until he reached Sherlock Holmes. With a deep side he hit call and brought the phone up to his ear. It rang three times before it was answered.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Holmes, its Lestrade. I have a case for you," Lestrade said, turning away from Anderson whose scowl deepened.

"I'm busy," Sherlock drawled.

"You haven't even heard what the case is!" Lestrade protested. "Dead female with no sign of trauma. She would be perfectly healthy if she wasn't dead."

"I said I'm busy," Sherlock said. "I have no time for a case nor do I want one at the moment."

"You…you don't want a case?" Lestrade asked, surprised. In the five years he had known Sherlock, he had never not wanted a case. Lestrade turned and found that even Anderson was looking surprised- even though he didn't want to.

"No," Sherlock said. "Is there anything else?"

"Hang on, you don't want a case?" Lestrade repeated. He heard Sherlock sigh on the other end before he hung up. Lestrade blinked at his phone when he pulled it away from his ear. "Sherlock not wanting a case; this can't be good."

Sherlock disconnected the call, huffing at Lestrade. He slid his phone back into his pocket, scanning the crowd around him. He stood slightly apart from the others, hands shoved in his coat pockets. He was at an airport, waiting for those to descend off the plane that had recently landed.

The plane was just back from Afghanistan. Those who had just finished their tour were on board and the crowd was their family, waiting to see greet them. Sherlock was waiting for his husband; Doctor John Watson.

The back of the plane opened and when the platform hit the ground, the soldiers descended. The family's converged on them, most breaking into sobs of happiness. Sherlock stood back and waited, his mouth very dry. He scanned the men until his gaze finally landed on a short man with dusty blonde hair. John.

Sherlock scanned his husband and his jaw clenched when he saw that his arm was in a sling and bandages across his shoulder visible. John spotted him and strode towards him, a slight limp in his leg.

"Sherlock," he said when he was within ear shot.

"John," Sherlock greeted, breaking into an honest smile. This smile was only for John.

When John reached his husband, he was pulled into a kiss. Sherlock cupped his face, keeping him firmly against him. He swiped his tongue across his lips, tasting the familiar taste. It had been too long since Sherlock had tasted him. Emotions stormed inside him. John was the only one who ever brought these emotions out in him and he trembled.

"I'm home, love," John soothed him, pulling back slightly.

"You were shot," Sherlock accused, his voice deeper with his emotions. "Why weren't you home sooner?"

"It happened a couple of days before our tour ended," John told him. "It's a bit mangled. I had to- ehm- dig it out myself."

"Then why do you have a psychosomatic limp?" Sherlock huffed.

John smiled and chuckled. "I missed you."

"I missed you to," Sherlock smiled. They stared at each before Sherlock spoke again. "Ready to go home?"

"God, yes," John breathed out shakily. He was more than ready to return to 221B Baker street.

Sherlock took John's good hand and led him away from the others and towards the sleek black car that was waiting for them.

"Mycroft?" John asked.

"Of course," Sherlock answered. "It's much faster than a cab. We have much catching up to do."

John shivered and tightened his grip on Sherlock's hand.

It had been a few days since Lestrade had talked to Sherlock and another murder had happened, nearly identical to the first one and they still had no leads on who did it. He needed Sherlock. He had tried ringing Sherlock but there was no answer.

Lestrade was worried. First he didn't want a case and now he wasn't answering his phone. Lestrade was well aware of Sherlock's history with cocaine and feared the tall man had relapsed. Making a decision, he went to Sherlock's place.

Anderson and Sally volunteered to come with him. Not because they were concerned about Sherlock but they wanted to snoop around his place and see if he had nay hidden bodies in his apartment. He was a freak and they wanted to the proof that he was even more so than they believed.

Lestrade rang the doorbell and waited for an answer. Sherlock's landlady, Mrs Hudson, answered the door bell with a cheery smile. "Hello Inspector. Here to see Sherlock?"

"Yes, Mrs Hudson. If you don't mind," he said.

She opened the door wider and allowed them in. "Best you knock first dear," Mrs Hudson said. "He's been…busy and really he deserves some privacy."

Lestrade nodded but was confused. With Anderson and Donovan he climbed the stairs. The knocked on the door and waited for Sherlock to answer. When he heard nothing he knocked again. "Sherlock, Its Lestrade, open up."

He heard footsteps on the other side and the door swung open. Sherlock was dressed in his usual black pants and his purple shirt. The top few buttons were undone and Sherlock's curls were a mess. "What?"

"Aren't you going to invite us in?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock's gaze slid past him and landed on Donovan and Anderson. He sneered. "Not likely."

"Freak," Sally sneered.

"Now Sherlock," Lestrade said, pushing open the door.

Sherlock sighed but allowed Lestrade to open the door. He stepped away and crossed to his violin, picking it up. "What do you want? I told you that I didn't want any cases at the moment."

"We need your help," Lestrade sighed.

Behind him Sally and Anderson scoffed.

"I'm busy," Sherlock said through gritted teeth. "I think even you can understand that."

"With what?" Sally scoffed. "Planning your own murder are you freak?"

Sherlock glared coldly at Sally and she shifted under his glare.

Before any of them could speak, another voice floated into the living room. "Sherlock, I need your help with-"

Appearing down the stairs was a man that Lestrade had never seen before. He was short, his hair still damp from his shower. He wore only pants, his torso bare. Everyone's eyes were immediately drawn to the gunshot wound on his left shoulder. It was mangled, John having to dig the bullet out himself.

"Oh," he said, clearing his throat and looking uncomfortable. "Hello."

Sherlock placed his violin back down and crossed to John. He took the bandages from John's hand and with careful hands, re-wrapped the wound. "You have a physical therapy appointment in half an hour."

"Yes," John said, eyes flickering between him and the Yarder's in their living room. "Sorry- who are they?"

"The Yards finest," Sherlock drawled, eyes never leaving John's wound. "Meet Lestrade."

Lestrade nodded at John. "Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade."

"Doctor John Watson," he replied, reaching out and shaking Lestrade hand when Sherlock stepped back to admire his work. John quickly put his striped jumper on, covering his body. Sherlock pouted at this.

"You live here with the freak?" Anderson sneered, looking around the apartment critically.

John's smile became much more forced. "Actually, I live here with my husband. Kindly don't insult him again in front of me."

Anderson's jaw dropped and both Lestrade and Sally looked shocked.

"You're married," Sally asked. "To him?"

"Sherlock never mentioned," Lestrade said, trying to salve the awkward and rude conversation.

"I've been in Afghanistan. Army doctor," John said.

The three Yarder's visibly straightened.

"Nice to meet you," Lestrade said clearing his throat.

John nodded. "So, you have a case for Sherlock?"

"As I told Lestrade," Sherlock said, picking up his coat and pulling it on. "I am busy. Good day Lestrade, don't let the door hit you on your way out."

"You're not doing anything," John frowned, looking to his husband. "I'm surprised you are even dressed."

"I'm coming to your physical therapy session," Sherlock said, as if it was obvious- which it was.

"You'll get bored," John protested. "And I know how much you love working on cases. They could use your help."

"I love you more," Sherlock said simply.

John smiled brightly at this. Lestrade was surprised by the level of emotion that Sherlock was showing. Donovan and Anderson looked shocked and slightly disgusted.

"You can come," John said, suddenly stern. "If you promise not to jump down their throats."

"I make no promises," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Come, we'll be late."

Sherlock strode out without so much as a goodbye to Lestrade and the others.

John paused and cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm sure I can get him to help you with your case when we get back. I'll be pretty useless when I get back and he'll get bored."

"Thanks, that would much appreciated," Lestrade said.

"John!" Sherlock called from down stairs.

John gave them a half smile before going to his husband.

Lestrade cleared his throat and gestured for Sally and Anderson to leave. He shut the door behind them, climbing down the stairs. When they stepped out of the building they saw Sherlock and John driving away in a cab.

"Who would of thought that the freak had a husband," Sally sneered.

Lestrade rolled his eyes but said nothing. He was happy for Sherlock; happy that he found someone that could see past his arrogance and that he was emotionally stumped. It proved that there was someone out there for everyone and Sherlock needed someone. Sherlock was loved.

Please review! Happy reading everyone!