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"JOHN! HELP ME LOOK!"
John is pulled into the flat before he can take his coat off and is dragged around the sitting room. "I can't find it," Sherlock babbles. "It's somewhere. I know it is but I can't find it!"
"Find what?" John takes a moment to shrug off his jacket and watch Sherlock as he races around the room. He sees the empty bottle on the table while Sherlock goes on about a missing comet or a lost comet or something like that and when he reads it he hangs his head and presses the bottle to his forehead. He'd been doing so well and...well all things considered he supposes that Sherlock would have had to crack eventually.
"Sherlock!" he snaps. Sherlock all but snaps to attention. "Sit down before you stroke."
"But the comet!"
"I don't care about the comet I care about you not having stroke. Sit down before I make you sit down."
Sherlock does and John takes a seat next to him on the couch. "Come here." Sherlock moves until he's cross legged and facing John on it while John gets a good look at his eyes and feel his head. "You are burning up."
"Burning," he agrees. "Heart burning up. Need it to stop. Maybe I threw it out and that was the comet."
John shakes his head. "Doubt it," he near whispers. He has been expecting this since he'd asked Mary to marry him. Sherlock is happy for him, he knows that he is and knows that he's not being lied to, but he doesn't know how to react to John's priorities seeming to have changed and he doesn't know how to react to John's packed boxes upstairs. "You heart's not burning up," he tells him as he runs a hand down the side of his face. "You stopped them, remember? You played dead."
"Play dead so they wouldn't get you," he agrees.
"Could have picked a better strategy but it worked, " John smiles. He keeps one hand on Sherlock's face and then places his other hand on the other side. "You know you're not losing me, right?"
Sherlock slurs out something that sounds like "of course I am" so John shakes him. Gently enough to not addle him further but firm enough to get him to look back at him and see that he means business. "Some of us have the ability to love more than one person at once." Sherlock pulls a face and John assures him not like that. "I will still do cases with you. I will still visit and see you all the time. Mary won't lock me away and I won't lock myself away." He shakes Sherlock again. "You'd best listen to this next bit because I'm not going to have the courage to talk about it again." Sherlock makes a visible effort to stay focussed.
"Mary says she's really marrying us both." Sherlock pulls another face and John, again, assures him that it's not like that. "She's said that she's sharing me with you and she knows it and is just fine with it. If you remember she's got a job that has her out and about at all hours too."
"Marrying people makes people different," Sherlock grumbles.
"Aren't we already different. From when we first met? From when you came back?" Sherlock has to agree with that. "We're still here," he soothes. "We always will be. You're my best friend, remember? Just because I won't be living here anymore doesn't mean I intend for anything to really change."
Sherlock looks at him suspiciously for a moment and then his face splits into a wide grin as he hugs John tight. John laughs as he hugs him back and pats him on the back. "You didn't lose me to Moriarty or Moran," John reminds him. "What makes you think Mary would stand a chance and she's not even trying to kill me."
Sherlock giggles heartily and then sits back up, still holding onto John's shoulders. "Right!" he agrees like he should have known all along. John squeezes Sherlock's hands in what he hopes is agreement and ends up watching telly with Sherlock until he eventually nods off. He does promise him that that was all there is in the flat and he'd only picked it up last week. "Stay the night?" he asks.
"Of course." Mary is out of town with her girlfriends so he doesn't worry about her wondering what's become of him. Not like she would know full well who to call if she were in town. Mrs. Hudson and her are already becoming fast friends.
"Good," Sherlock yawns as he passes out on the couch. John pulls his afghan out of a nearby pile of his stuff and throws it over his friend. Then he makes up a bed using his chair and Sherlock's and settles in for the night.