Yay so the sequel is finally here! Thank you for clicking on this; I hope you'll enjoy it.

Warnings: There will be smut in this. Not much, and it's not very detailed. However, it is still there, so I thought you should be aware of that. Also, I'm adding a Trigger Warning for mentions of homophobia and a suicide attempt. (Also crime scenes and murder, but this is a Sherlock fanfiction. What do you expect?) Once again, there is nothing graphic or anything that could be considered extremely upsetting, but they are still there and I wanted to give a warning.

Now that that is out of the way, because I have been busier than usual lately, this story will probably be updated only once a week.Wednesdays to be exact. Sorry about that, but hopefully that won't be too much of a problem for you lovely readers.

Thanks to everyone who read A Study in Love, and I hope you'll like this sequel just as much. :)

___________________________________________________________

It's amazing to think how much can change in such a short amount of time. Not too long ago John Watson was an invalidated army doctor with a bad shoulder and a psychosomatic limp, he had a drunkard for a sister and and no promising future ahead of him, and his love life had been nonexistent. No one wanted to get involved with damaged goods with so much baggage even he couldn't carry it all. John's existence after returning home had been a dismal one, but fortunately that torture hadn't lasted for long.

Now, John was in pretty good shape and had a steady job at the local surgery with a decent salary, and could afford to send his sister to rehab. He had more friends now than he could count, and, as of several days ago, he was the fiancé of Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective. John considered that to be his proudest accomplishment. He'd invaded Afghanistan and saved countless lives, but those things failed to bring him the same amount of joy that he'd felt when Sherlock had 'popped the question'.

John twisted his silver engagement ring around his finger with a smile on his face as he stared out the back window of the car they were in. Sherlock had fallen asleep a while ago and was currently dribbling on John's shoulder.

John stared down at him with a smile and made a mental note to thank Mycroft for sending them a car and driver to bring them back to Baker Street after the incident they'd had at a petrol station in Sussex. After the accident they'd had on their first attempt to get to Sherlock's cottage that had resulted in a totaled car and a broken leg for John, and now this, John was seriously starting to suspect Sherlock had some sort of personal vendetta against rental cars.

Sherlock shifted, bringing his left hand to rest on John's thigh and burying his face in the crook of John's neck. His ring gleamed in the sunlight that managed to filter through the car's tinted windows, and John smiled. He placed his hand over Sherlock's and patted it gently.

Sherlock groaned and burrowed further into John, snaking his long arm around John's middle, and John laughed.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you." Sherlock just groaned again, not awake enough to verbalise a complaint. "When's the last time you had any sleep?"

"Does it matter?" Sherlock's words were slurred due to his drowsiness and his voice was muffled by John's skin, making it hard for him to sound truly angry. John smiled an affectionate smile and moved Sherlock so that his head was resting in his lap. He ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair, and he gave a contented sigh. "How much longer until we're back in London?"

"Maybe twenty minutes." Sherlock yawned, causing John to yawn, and he twirled an ebony curl around one finger. "Go back to sleep. I'll wake you when we get there." John ran a thumb over one of Sherlock's prominent cheekbones and hoped that he'd be able to stay awake for twenty minutes. Sherlock's face relaxed and his breathing slowed, and for a moment John simply watched him, marveling at how gorgeous the man sleeping in his lap was. The last thing on his mind before his eyelids grew heavy and he lost the will to fight sleep was how happy he was to be able to call this gorgeous man his fiancé.

Twenty minutes later John was awakened by the sound of a door opening, followed by the harsh light of a bright afternoon sun shining on his face. Sherlock sat up while John rubbed at his eyes and climbed over him to get out the car. Once John exited he allowed himself a good stretch before retrieving his and Sherlock's luggage from the boot of the car, then began hauling the suitcases to the door, where Sherlock was waiting with his hands stuffed into his coat pockets.

"Nope, don't need any help," he said. "I've got it." Sherlock rolled his eyes but smiled.

"Have you got the keys?"

"You don't?"

"Mine were in the rental car when it... when it..."

"You mean when you made it blow up?" Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest and glared at John.

"That was not my fault." John put down the bag he was holding in his right hand and dug his keys out of the pocket of his jeans.

"Whatever you say, love." John glanced up at Sherlock when he said this; He loved the way Sherlock's face lit up whenever John called him 'love'. He handed the keys to Sherlock so he could open the door, then grabbed the bag he'd put down and followed him inside.

"We're back Mrs. Hudson!" John called out as he shut the door behind him. Sherlock dashed up the stairs, but John waited in case Mrs. Hudson wanted to come out and greet them.

"Oh, that's great. Just give me a moment and I'll be right up to greet you properly!"

John ascended the stairs then and dropped the suitcases off in their bedroom. Sherlock had already removed his coat and scarf by the time John came out into the sitting room. Mrs. Hudson joined them several moments later and after a brief greeting and series of hugs the three of them stood in a sort of triangle just inside the flat, with John standing a bit closer to Sherlock than Mrs. Hudson.

"So, how was Sussex?"

"It was marvelous," Sherlock said, sending a knowing smile in John's direction, and when their eyes met John smiled too. Sherlock brought his left arm to rest on John's shoulders, and John brought his hand up to interlace his fingers with Sherlock's. Mrs. Hudson's eyes followed the movement and after a brief moment of confusion her eyes lit up and she smiled warmly at the two of them.

"Oh, really?" John nodded his head, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Sherlock doing the same.

"Yeah," he said, "soon Mrs. Turner won't be the only landlady on Baker Street with married ones."

"Oh that's great! I'm so happy for you boys!"

John smiled and accepted a hug from his landlady, then left Sherlock alone with Mrs. Hudson for a bit while he went to their bedroom to unpack. He was just finishing with his own clothing when Sherlock came in through the door, an exasperated look on his face.

"My god that woman can talk," he said. "I had no idea there were so many different ways to say congratulations."

"Yes you did."

"Of course I did. I just wasn't aware that Mrs. Hudson did."John chuckled and opened Sherlock's suitcase. The thought crossed his mind to ask Sherlock to unpack his own things, but he thought better of it and started on it himself. Behind him Sherlock sat on the bed and removed his shoes, then placed them on the floor beside where John was. John glanced over his shoulder and received a wink from Sherlock before he turned and walked out of the room.

John finished unpacking and emerged from the bedroom some minutes later to find Sherlock sprawled out on the couch, face buried into one of the cushions. He stood in the entryway between the living room and kitchen for a moment, watching his new fiancé with a distracted smile on his face, then turned and set about making them some tea. As lovely as Sherlock's cottage was this time of year, he had missed this flat and their tea kettle immensely.

Sherlock must have sensed that John was making tea, because before the water even started boiling John felt his presence behind him. A glance over his shoulder revealed Sherlock standing directly behind him, forehead almost resting on John's shoulder as he busied himself with his phone. John opened his mouth to ask what he was doing, but Sherlock, the avid mind reader as always, began speaking before John could say one word.

"I'm texting Lestrade to let him know we're back." John smiled, but didn't say anything. He knew how badly Sherlock was itching to get back to work, and honestly, he was too. He didn't tell Sherlock this but John was hoping Lestrade would already have something good for him. It had been a while since his last good adrenaline rush, not including the way he'd felt when Sherlock had proposed.

The kettle sang and John made both Sherlock and himself a cup of tea, handing Sherlock his before heading into the sitting room and sinking down into his armchair with his own steaming cup. Sherlock made his way to his armchair, and their knees knocked together as he slid down in the seat. John tried to remember when they'd moved their chairs so close together, but his thinking was cut short when Sherlock have an exuberant shout and nearly lept from his seat. It was surprising that he managed not to spill a single drop of tea, but then again he was always impossibly graceful.

Sherlock carried his cup with him into the kitchen, and John heard the clink of him placing it on the counter before disappearing into their bedroom. John took a sip of his own beverage, then stood to retrieve his coat. A reaction as enthusiastic as that could only mean one thing: a case.

John stood by the door and waited for Sherlock to finish putting on his shoes, and when he finally emerged he smiled at John and they left the flat.

An hour later John was standing behind Sherlock as he was crouched over a pile of rubbish, examining it as if he were a curator at a museum and the trash was some priceless work of art. Lestrade was standing several metres off supervising a Scotland Yard worker who was inspecting another pile.

John noticed Sherlock tugging at his finger and then he was holding his ring out towards John.

"Here."

"Erm, what's this? You haven't changed your mind, have you?" He asked, only half kidding. Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes, but John saw the hint of a smile on Sherlock's lips and relaxed.

"Don't be absurd, John. In my haste to leave the flat I forgot to grab my gloves, and I'd rather not have anything happen to this while I'm searching through this filth."

"Right." John took the ring and held it between his forefinger and thumb, inspecting it while Sherlock proceeded to dig through the pile before him. The ring was warm, and only a little smaller than John's. Though Sherlock's hands were much larger than John's and his fingers were longer as well, the digits were quite slender and so he actually had a the smaller ring size of the two. It was a good thing Sherlock had purchased the rings; John had always thought his own fingers were smaller.

"Oi, what's that then?" Lestrade called out as he walked over. "Have you found something?" John could hear the derisive snort Sherlock gave even with his back turned.

"No Gavin, John is just holding my ring." John turned to Lestrade with a sympathetic look on his face, but the Detective Inspector just waved his hand in the air and shook his head.

"What ring?" He asked, leaning towards John to get a better look.

"My engagement ring."

"Your what?" John turned his head to smile at Lestrade and received a puzzled stare in response. He gave John a quick once-over before he spoke again, turning to look down at Sherlock. "You mean, you and him are.."

"Yes, John and I are engaged to be married. Do try to keep up."

"I, uh, well I knew you two were..." He cleared his throat. "I didn't know it was so serious though." John just nodded his head, and Lestrade gave him a friendly pat on the back. "Well congratulations."

"Thanks." A few moments of silence passed with Sherlock meticulously picking through discarded bottles and stray pieces of paper and plastic, John watching Sherlock when he wasn't staring at Sherlock's ring, and Lestrade looking back and forth between the two of them with a strange sort of smile on his face. John could hear every time he shifted his feet, and he could practically feel the curiosity radiating off of the man. He supposed all the time he spent with Sherlock was causing an improvement in his observational powers. Lestrade took a step closer to John and lowered his voice a bit.

"So, did you ask him?" John looked down at the Sherlock the same time Sherlock turned to look over his shoulder at John, and they both smiled, silently agreeing to keep that bit of information a secret. Why, John had no idea, but he loved the way Sherlock's eyes had lit up when he saw the agreement on John's face. Lestrade sighed, but John saw the smile on his face before he turned around to go talk to Sergeant Donovan. John came closer to Sherlock and crouched down beside him.

"Any luck?"

"No, but we know the bracelet's got to be here. There's-"

"How the hell is that freak engaged before me?" Both John and Sherlock turned in the direction that Donovan's disbelieving voice had come from. She was staring slack jawed at the two of them, and John felt something in his stomach twist. Even after all this time and after everything Sherlock had done for Scotland Yard, she still treated him so horribly. She acted as if he wasn't even human, calling him all sorts of names like Sherlock was incapable of having his feelings hurt. Sherlock always brushed her off and acted as if he didn't care what she said to or about him, but John could tell her jeering stung occasionally, and he was tired of having to see the man he loved wounded by such petty words. He stood up and squared his shoulders, glaring at Sergeant Donovan who stood several meters away.

"Maybe it's because unlike you Sherlock didn't decide to sleep with a married man, for starters. He's a great person and a decent human being who doesn't feel the need to denigrate someone's engagement or ruin a relationship to make himself feel better about his lackluster love life." Though John almost immediately regretted his harsh words as soon as he'd said them, the scandalized look on Donovan's face was priceless, and he supposed it couldn't have been all bad with the way Sherlock was looking at him. The corner of his mouth had lifted minutely and his eyes had softened a bit. John knew that look all too well; It was a look that said "I love you so much right now but I won't say it", and John was always fine with Sherlock's silence because that look was almost always accompanied with a kiss and sometimes more, depending on where they were.

Unfortunately, Sherlock never had time for romance while working, and so instead of kissing John he just smiled and turned back to the pile of rubbish he was searching. John stood up and stretched his legs, then began pacing while he waited for someone to find the diamond tennis bracelet they were all searching for. Eventually Sherlock gave up and moved to a different pile, and less than a minute later he made a triumphant noise and stood up, directing John and Lestrade's attention to something that was sparkling in the afternoon sunlight.

"Someone get some fingerprints from that, and if they match Emilie's sister's, arrest her."

"Got it," Lestrade said, motioning for someone to come over and collect the bracelet. Sherlock stood up, dusted off his hands, then took his ring back from John and slid it onto his finger. John took note of the way Sherlock's eyes lingered on his hand for several moments afterwards, and smiled to himself.

He waited for Sherlock to answer a few questions, and then the two of them were headed to St Bart's so Sherlock could pick up a foot from Molly. John didn't even bother asking what it was for. He climbed into the cab behind Sherlock and tried to hide his disappointment at the austerity of the case, but he knew Sherlock could tell he hadn't exactly been entertained.

"Sorry the case was so dull," Sherlock said as they were riding in the cab. John shrugged, not taking his eyes from the window.

"They can't all be thrilling rooftop chases." Sherlock rested his head on John's shoulder, and John carded his fingers through Sherlock's dark curls. "Besides, we've got a lifetime of thrilling cases ahead of us, don't we?" John felt rather than saw Sherlock smile when he buried his face into John's neck, and his breath tickled his skin when he spoke.

"Yes, I suppose we do."

Sherlock sat up straight and they shared a smile as the cab came to a stop. Their meeting with Molly was brief, though John couldn't be sure if it was because Sherlock was excited to bring his new foot home, or because they both were in a hurry to escape the awkwardness that ensued when Molly noticed their new rings. John had a discomforting feeling it was the latter.

Still, the obviously forced smile on Molly's face was the last thing on John's mind as he and Sherlock walked side by side back to Baker Street. No cab had been willing to pick up a man holding a severed foot in a plastic bag, and honestly John couldn't blame them. He could only imagine what they looked like: two blokes holding hands while one of them intently inspects a bag that obviously contained some sort of human body part with a smile on his face. John smiled as well as he watched Sherlock, and had to force down the laughter that was bubbling inside of him. His life was a strange one, that was for sure, but he wouldn't trade any part of it for the world.