Chapter Text
John Watson sat on his chair; newspaper in hand, reading the headline. "Suicide of fake detective" No. He wouldn't do this. Not to me. Would he? The newpaper he held was now 2 years old. The same one in his hands day in, day out. He's gone, John. That annoying voice in his head was saying. You weren't there, and now he's gone. He stood up then, wondering if that last statement was true. Sitting down again, he pictured the last time he that he saw Sherlock. Perfect face, beautiful eyes peering out over of St. Barts about to do something fucking crazy... Jump. Of that bloody building. Trying to calm himself, John forced himself the remember the rest. Sherlock had said something.. The phone-call was his note. Why would he do that! Urrgh! He started reading the paper again and had got so engrossed in it that he hadn't noticed that the doorbell had rung until a very pale looking Mrs Hudson came in.
"John, dear, I know you've not been back long, but there's someone here to see you" "Who?" "A man, you'll be..surprised I think, to say the least." "Fine. Send him in" John muttered.
He had no idea who it was, so had no way for preparing for what would happen next. As a tall shadow rounded the corner, with a head full of those curly locks he knew oh so well, he knew exactly who it was. But that wasn't possible.. He was dead.
"Ah, John! Long time no see, how's life been for you? Done any cases without me? No, of course you haven't. I see that you've only been here for a few hours, based on the fact that the curtains are still shut and have been for the last two years. Your seat has lost it's dip where you always used to sit, as it is now flat, indicating that it hasn't been sat on for a long time. Mrs Hudson will need a-"
"You bastard, Sherlock. How the, fuck?! I don't honestly give a damn that you know I moved out of here. You were bloody dead! I lernt to cope.. I had to." He tried to sound as pissed off as he could, to try and hide the truth that was masked behind his annoyance. "Just. Sit. Please, for me.."
John indicated at Sherlock to sit at his chair whilst he tried to calm himself down. Once his breathing had returned to an acceptable rate, he stood up and walked out of the room. Sherlock looked at Mrs Hudson, who was stood by the door, with a quizical look that was returned with a little, shaky, shrug. John returned a few minutes later with a mug of tea for the "dead" famous Consulting Detective. "Here" he said, passing a steaming mug to Sherlock, taking special care to not spill any of the drink.
Once Sherlock had drank around half the mug, he spoke up. "I suppose you'll be wanting an explanation?"