Sherlock was moved into my room, mostly because he'd sneak into the hall at night, and come to check on me, which was dangerous seeing as his health wasn't at it's best. We'd lay side by side in our hospital beds and talk about cases, and occasionally make small talk. Whatever the conversation, I was just glad he was there, and not dead. My recovery was going slowly, and I didn't feel any better, in fact, I'd been feeling much worse in the past few days, despite my weeks of treatment. My eyes remained closed, they had to shut most of the lights off and speak slowly now due to the severity of my concussion, they were worried it had cracked my skull and caused brain damage.
"Ms. (L/N)?" My doctor entered the room. I felt fear drive through me, I had been expecting results from him for the past week.
"Yes?" I tried to sound confident, but my voice shook like a leaf in the wind.
"I'm afraid-" It didn't matter what he said after that, doctors don't say that without bad news following, I could already hear what he was about to say; before he said it.
"I'm afraid the concussion lead to brain damage, it's not fatal, but you will need to move to a quieter location to lessen your stress, you may experience seizures and migraines more often, and possibly depression and hallucinations." The doctor explained. It was what I expected, I knew there was the risk of brain damage. Sherlock stares at the doctor from his bed, and then looked at me.
"My parents."
"What?"
"My parents have a place in the country, they can either give us the home, or help us find one in the country." Sherlock gazed softly at me.
"You're coming with me?" I felt deeply happy knowing the detective would be coming with me.
"Yes, of course, someone has to take care of you." He gave a hint of a smile before laying back in bed. The doctor prescribed some medication before Sherlock took the time to speak with his parents.

7 weeks later

The moving process was long, I stayed with Mycroft for a few days, which was extremely awkward. I was kept under security the whole time, Moriarty was still on the loose, and we didn't know his whereabouts. After all the decision making, we finally found a small house far away from our normal spot, but still close enough to London for Sherlock to continue being a detective. He threw out the old house number and replaced it with 221 B, because it was his trademark almost. The house was relatively small, it had three bedrooms, two baths, a living room, dining room, kitchen and all that, but it was cozy. We settled, dragging all our stuff into the new place. It took a few weeks to settle in, but here we are.
I placed the kettle on the stove, staring out the window as Sherlock threw the stick for my therapy dog, which he named Redbeard. Redbeard was a lovely Pointer, with a red and white coat. He was helpful in almost every way for me, and great company when Sherlock was out chasing London's criminals. I smiled at him, before turning to the fridge and fetching some milk.
"Morning, (Y/N)!" John called, walking through the front door.
"Good morning, John!" I called back, poking my head into the mud room.
"Sorry for barging in, Sherlock said he'd be in in a moment." John smiled at me, before sitting at the table.
"He sure loves that dog." I chuckled, glancing out the window.
"He really does." John laughed, picking up the news paper. I put a biscuit down in front of him before rushing off to clean the bathroom. Don't think that my life was all about being a jobless person who was stuck cleaning the house, I moved my bakery into the country, and found myself keeping busy with all the chores, such as the garden we had planted. Sherlock helped of course when he wasn't on a case, or in his mind palace, and Ms. Hudson would stop by every few days to come see us.
"How are you?" John asked, watching me clean.
"I'm.. I'm as well as I can be." I looked up at him. He nodded slowly.
"We miss you back home, both you and Sherlock, but we understand-"
"I'm sorry, John." I cut him off. There were tears in my eyes.
"What?" He took a step forward, kneeling beside me.
"Sherlock moving all the way out here with me, it must be hard on everyone, I would have been fine on my own." I whimpered, looking up at him sadly.
"(Y/N)... Sherlock would have went with you whether you let him or not, when you love someone, you follow them wherever they must go." He smiled softly at me. I felt hot tears roll down my face.
"Sherlock is capable of love?" I looked at him questioningly.
"He's capable of loving you, and he loves me... platonically." He caught my slight smirk when he said that and gently hugged me.
"If you make one more gay joke, I'll come out here and torment you daily." We both laughed. Sherlock knocked on the bathroom door, looking at us. I wiped the tears away and stood up.
"He's right, logically speaking, I hold my highest sentiments to you two." Sherlock looked at the both of us.
"For Christ's sake Sherlock, just say you love her?" John smirked devilishly at him. Sherlock blushed and looked at me, and then smiled.
"Yes, fine." He stepped forward and grabbed my hand. "(Y/N) (L/N), in my complicated mind and what little heart I have, I hold my strongest feelings for you, stronger than what I feel for John of course. You changed me when I met you, and I refuse to believe it was in a bad way, you made me feel, taught me how to feel human, just as John has. I do love you, and I am glad I have you to spend my days with." He smiled softly. I felt my heart speed up as he made his speech. I lurched forward and pressed my lips against his, expecting him to pull back, but instead he pulled me closer. It was almost magical, it felt like in that moment, everything went right.
"Get a room." John shouted cheerfully, before walking out to the living room. Redbeard pressed his nose against my leg and wagged his tail. I laughed and bent down to pet him. Sherlock knelt down as well, smiling brightly.
John, Redbeard, Sherlock and I, we were a strange little family, each one of us was so different from the other, a soldier, a sociopathic detective, a baker with brain damage, and a therapy dog, yet we fit together like lost puzzle pieces, completing each other in ways no other "family" could.
I am finally safe.
I am finally home.