Two days left.

Sherlock sat in his usual chair and stared at the dust settling on John's. 'John's old armchair' Mycroft would sometimes call it mockingly. Making fun of Sherlock for being sentimental about a lump of fabric. He had no idea.

As if on cue, John walked through the door. Sherlock jumped up.

"Lunch?" He suggested.

"O...kay?" John replied questioningly.

They got in a taxi and headed for the restaurant they visited for their first case together. They sat in the same seats and ordered food.

"Okay, what's this all about?" John asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You getting all... sentimental all of a sudden."

"John." Sherlock said looking into John's eyes pleadingly. He wanted John to see.

"What?"

Sherlock reached forwards and grabbed John's hand. "Did I ever tell you how much you mean to me?"

"Sherlock?" John asked.

Sherlock released John's hand as the food was delivered. They ate together and barely said anything throughout the meal. Once they had finished, Sherlock paid and they left the restaurant.

~

Sherlock told John he'd walk him home. Once they'd reached their destination, they stood outside for a while.

"Thank you, John Watson." Sherlock said, a sad smile creeping its way onto his face.

"What for?" Sherlock laughed at the amount of times he'd heard that.

He thought for a while before finally coming to a conclusion. "Everything."

"What are you on about Sherlock?"

"Goodbye, Doctor Watson." He said continuing his long trek home.