"...and John tried to tell him with every brush of his tongue, every sip of his lips: I love you, I love you, I love you. He drew back a breath, rubbing his nose against Sherlock’s and saying, firmly, “Thank you,” before leaning in and pressing his lips back to Sherlock’s again."

Sherlock's recovered. Mycroft's wonderful. They're "out". They're happy. They're playing catch.

What's not to like in this chapter? *happy sigh*