They woke curled up together against the chill morning air, limbs entangled and bodies settled close.
Greg reckoned he could do without his morning coffee.
Thus they stayed like that.
Sherlock’s relief was palatable. ‘Thank God it wasn’t you,’ he whispered unsteadily into Greg’s hair.
‘I thought you were dead,’ Greg said breathlessly before he pulled Sherlock’s living, breathing body into his arms.
No one knew the exact details, but Greg suspected Sherlock had had a hand in the smooth running of John’s romance. He gave himself away when he bear-hugged Greg in delight at the thought of John’s upcoming marriage.
Pale with shock was the only way to describe Sherlock. Age caught up with everybody, and Mrs Hudson was no exception. Greg slipped an arm around Sherlock’s shoulders and held him until the doctors said all was well.
Sherlock was the only thing holding Greg up. He leant into that tight embrace, wishing he’d got there that vital few seconds earlier.
‘If it hadn’t been you, it would have been worse,’ Sherlock stated. ‘More would be dead’
Sherlock continued to hold him though, steady and strong.
They woke together, curled close in each other’s arms, the chill of autumn floating in the air around them.
Greg decided he could do without his morning coffee.
Once again they stayed in bed.