Author's Note: I really would love to write a full-length story about this. But, as they say, the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak…at least at the moment. Although, I can't get this idea out of my head, so I thought I would at least write this as a short story to get it out of system. It is an alternate version of a reunion between Sherlock and John sometime before "The Empty Hearse".

I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimers and Credits:

All the characters and events in this story are purely fictitious. If anything in this story resembles any person(s) and/or current or past event(s), it is purely coincidental.

I do not own "Sherlock" nor seek any financial gain from this story. This is purely written for my enjoyment and hopefully the enjoyment of my readers. All the credit for the creation of the original characters for the "Sherlock Holmes" stories goes to the great Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; and all the credit for the modernized, television version, "Sherlock", goes to the fabulous Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and Steve Thompson. "Sherlock" also belongs to BBC in the UK and aired on PBS in the US.

Warning: Mention of suicide attempt.

Undercover Holiday

Mycroft was worried. Very worried as he finished reading the recent report that had crossed his desk this morning of a one, Dr. John Watson, his brother's former flatmate and best friend. There was also a memory stick in the file that he was told contains disturbing video footage of John contemplating suicide with his gun just the night before. He doesn't need to watch it to know that John is not coping well with Sherlock's "suicide". The report was very thorough. "I tried to warn Sherlock that something like this could trigger his PTSD, but Sherlock insisted this was the only way. The only way that John could be convince of his death without needing to see the body."

Mycroft knew Sherlock was right…at least on that point. John is a doctor. If he had not seen it happen for himself, he would have insisted on seeing the body. And if he had seen it, he would have known the truth. That it was all a hoax, a faked death to save the lives of all those people who Sherlock holds dear. Although, that still didn't mean he had to like the plan, no matter how logical it was.

He let out a huff as he decided it was best to watch the video footage to get the full picture of John's current state of mind. He put the memory stick into the USB port on his laptop and clicked on the video in question. "Sherlock, you are an idiot." Mycroft said out loud as he rubbed his temples, watching as John stared at the gun in his hand with a vacant look on his face. Mycroft watched in horror as John at one point actually put the end of the gun into his mouth…but thankfully thought better of it, a short time later lowering it to his lap again. He instead removed the bullets and returned the gun to the drawer where he had first obtained it before retrieving a glass and a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen.

Mycroft turned it off. He had seen enough. Something needed to be done to pull John Watson out of this state of depression before it was too late. "But what?" It was at that point that he suddenly eyed another file that had recently been delivered to him in regards to Sebastian Moran. A smirk graced his features. "I have the perfect solution."

ooOoo

John was returning home after working a double shift at the surgery when he noticed a sleek, black car sitting out front of his building. He grimaced at the thought that perhaps Mycroft Holmes would actually have the gull to pay him a visit after what happened during their last encounter at the Diogenes Club the night of Sherlock's death. John had never been able to forgive Mycroft for his betrayal of Sherlock to James Moriarty. "He knows I don't want him anywhere near me, so why is he here now?" John thought to himself as he strode over to the car and knocked on the window.

"Mycroft! I know you are in there. Just leave me alone!" John yelled into the darkened window and then started to walk away. But as he was searching for the keys to the front door of his flat, he heard the power window on the car go down.

"Dr. Watson, please wait." It was a woman's voice and not Anthea's. John paused what he was doing and, out of curiosity, turned to look at her. He watched as a woman with sparkling blue eyes and short blonde hair got out of the car with an envelope in her hand.

"Yeah, well?" John asked. "Was Mycroft too afraid to come here himself or to send Anthea? Well, whatever it is he wants, I'm not interested."

"Dr. Watson, I must apologize for just appearing at your doorstep like this. I don't know a Mycroft or an Anthea, but I was sent here by the British government to ask for your help." The woman told him. "My name is Mary Morstan." She introduced herself as she reached out with her right hand in greeting.

"Pfft. Yeah, right…'the British government' is another euphemism for Mycroft. You're not fooling me." John insisted as he started to turn away again.

"Please…Dr. Watson. This is a matter of Queen and country. We need your help." Mary pleaded. "Please." She requested again as she held her right hand out towards him once more.

John stared at her hand for a moment before hesitantly taking it and shaking it. "Ok. I'll listen to what you have to say. But if Mycroft didn't send you, then who did?" He asked as they released hands.

Mary handed him the envelope in her hands. "This letter will explain everything." She paused as John simply stared at it as he noticed the royal crest on the flap. He looked up at her suddenly in awe.

"Is this from…?" John asked, leaving the obvious unsaid.

Mary nodded with a bright smile. "Yes."

John gulped and then nervously opened the envelope so he could read the contents of the letter. As he read on, he was so amazed that the Queen herself would select him for such a mission. Warning bells were going off in the back of his mind, though, that something seemed a bit off about all of this. But what the letter offered him got his adrenaline going; and he felt a spark of excitement and adventure that he hadn't felt since before…before Sherlock's death. He needed this. He really did. He hadn't felt this alive in a year, and he was eager to get started on this new adventure. He looked up at Mary with a sparkle in his eye. "When do we leave?"

ooOoo

"Someone is playing a cruel joke on me. That's what it is." Sherlock thought to himself as he watched in absolute horror as happy parents and their children, newlyweds hanging all over each other, loving couples obviously celebrating their anniversaries, and so on and so on, boarded the Caribbean cruise ship he was currently on. Mycroft's minions had informed him that they had a lead that Sebastian Moran was going to be on that particular ship on holiday. Otherwise, he would have never agreed to it. "Sentiment. How tedious. I'm going to die of total boredom if Moran doesn't actually appear." He thought to himself as continued to watch from a discrete location.

But then something caught his attention…or actually someone did. He closed his eyes tight and then opened them again, willing what he believed was a hallucination would go away. But it wasn't a hallucination. "No, it can't be. I'm going to kill, Mycroft!" He thought to himself as he watched in disbelief as a brown haired version of John Watson and a blonde woman slightly shorter than him boarded the ship along with the other passengers. It was definitely John. No doubt in his mind. He would know him anywhere.

Sherlock, although disguised himself, was suddenly afraid. Afraid for John's safety. He quickly scurried away, eliminating the possibility that John might also recognize him and find out he is alive. "Mycroft, you're an idiot!"

ooOoo

Mycroft was sitting at home in his leather wing-backed chair relaxing in front of the fire. He was reading the newspaper and took a sip of his brandy when his mobile phone started to ring from inside the breast pocket of his jacket. With a sigh, he set down both his brandy glass and the newspaper so he could retrieve it. He looked at the number displayed and braced himself for the scolding he was sure to receive from his baby brother.

"Hello, Sherlock. And what do I owe this pleasure?" Mycroft asked in his usual arrogant manner.

"Mycroft! Why is John Watson here on the same cruise ship as me?" Sherlock inquired with great ire.

"Whatever do you mean?" Mycroft replied slyly.

"Mycroft! Don't play coy with me. You're not fooling me. This isn't funny! John's life could be in danger. He can't be here! If you had something to do with this…" Sherlock berated him.

"I had everything to do with this. But John has no idea that I do and it should remain that way…under the circumstances." He paused. "His orders in fact come from the Queen herself. I called in a favor."

"Mycroft! Why would you do that?" Sherlock queried, now totally confused.

Mycroft then became completely serious. "Because, Sherlock, John was not coping well with your 'death'…and needed…a distraction."

"From what?" Sherlock now sounded slightly worried. "What is it you're not telling me and who is that woman with him?"

Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock…please trust me on this. John needed to feel needed again…to have a sense of purpose. So I gave it to him."

"So you send him to the same cruise ship that I am currently on. Mycroft, you are an idiot!" Sherlock criticized again.

"No, Sherlock. You are the idiot! I knew this would become a problem. I told you it would and you didn't listen." Mycroft insisted.

"We both agreed that it was best that John didn't know I was alive." Sherlock reminded him.

"No, if you remember, I had some serious reservations about it." Mycroft reminded his brother.

Sherlock let out an agitated huff and closed his eyes. "How bad?" He asked, dreading the answer.

"Quite bad. He…he almost committed suicide himself…with his gun." Mycroft quietly informed him.

Sherlock sucked in a breath. "I didn't know…I didn't know that it would affect him in that way."

"Human emotion was never your area, Sherlock." Mycroft reminded him. "You know that as well as I."

"And you're an expert?" Sherlock retorted.

"I never said I was." Mycroft paused. "Sherlock, like it or not, John is your contact on this mission. And, to answer your question, the woman with him is an agent that is not in my employ, if you must know. She works for MI6. Her name is Mary Morstan. But they are there posing as a recently married couple on their honeymoon. They will be going by the names of James and Elizabeth Sherwood. The only thing they both know is that they will be meeting an MI6 agent." He could almost feel Sherlock's fear and resentment emanating through the phone. "And, Sherlock?"

"What?"

"Don't forget the code words." Mycroft smirked before raising his voice to a slightly higher pitch. "The moon is so lovely tonight." He heard Sherlock's irritated whine just before abruptly ended the call. He then became serious. "Believe me, Sherlock. This is for the best…for both of you."

ooOoo

"Hurry up, James. We're going to miss the sunset." Mary/Elizabeth called to John/James.

"Coming." John replied as he appeared in the doorway of the loo attached to their cabin, wearing a tuxedo. His jaw dropped when his eyes fell on Mary's white sequined dress. "Wow! You look stunning." He told her with a huge smile.

"You look dashing, yourself." Mary complimented as she beamed with a sparkle in her eye as she walked over to him and straightened his tie. "Now come on or we'll be late." She stated as she grabbed her clutch bag and headed for the door.

John retrieved his hand gun and stashed into the back of his trousers. "Ready." He informed her as he followed her out into the hallway, shutting the door behind them.

ooOoo

The sun had set a couple of hours ago and the time was drawing closer when Sherlock knew he had to reveal himself to his best friend and former flatmate. He was pacing back and forth in his cabin, checking himself several times in the mirror to make sure he looked enough not like himself that perhaps John might not recognize him after all. His hair was dyed blonde, he wore brown eye contacts, and his hair was considerably longer and tied in a ponytail at the base of his neck.

Sherlock stared at himself in the mirror. "There is no way this is going to fool John." He realized as he noticed the time on his watch. He took a deep breath and one last glance in the mirror before leaving the safety of his cabin.

ooOoo

John glanced down at his watch as Mary and he watched the moon rise in the distance from the back railing of the ship. Their contact was late and John was becoming nervous. Mary, recognizing this reached over and squeezed his hand, hoping to calm his nerves slightly.

"The moon is so lovely tonight."

John froze and tightly closed his eyes. He suddenly had a death grip on the railing he had been casually holding just a second before. He knew that voice. "It couldn't be. No, it can't. He has an American accent. Get a grip, John Watson. He just has a similarly deep voice."

"Yes, it is. And I've never seen so many stars." John heard Mary answer. "Eh..hem…James."

"Uh, yes, I don't get to see the stars so clearly in London." John finally answers before slowly turning around to face their contact with a voice so similar to Sherlock's it was making John's heart ache.

"Ah…you are from England. I thought so." The man stated as he stepped out of the shadows and into moonlight.

John blanched. He couldn't breathe. Their MI6 contact reminded him so much of Sherlock, despite the blonde hair and brown eyes, that he started to feel quite queasy.

"James, are you alright?" Mary asked him, using his fake name in order to maintain their cover.

"Um, um…yeah. I'm fine." John spit out, not being able to take his eyes off of their contact.

"Are you sure you are alright, sir? You look a little peaky." The Sherlock look-a-like asked.

John tried to compose himself and straightened his tux. "Yes, I'm fine. It's nothing. Just a little sea sick, I guess."

"Mmm." The MI6 contact replied, which caused John to stare again. "May I interest either of you in a game of cards? I'm traveling alone, you see; but if you just want to be alone with each other…I'll understand."

"Actually." Mary beamed. "Cards sound brilliant, don't they James?"

"Um, um, sure." John/James replied while still in a haze.

"What do you have in mind?" Mary asked their contact.

"How about poker?" Mary looked at Sherlock with a start. "Uh, not for cash, just for fun." He added.

Mary nodded in agreement. "My name is Elizabeth, but most people call me Beth. And this is my husband, James." She introduced them.

"William, but most people call me Will." Sherlock informed them with his northern American accent as he held out his right hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise." Mary replied.

"I'll show you where we can play with relative privacy." "Will" told them as he started back towards the swirl of activity inside.

Mary gave John a look of concern as he watched "Will" walk away, expecting them to follow him. "He even walks like Sherlock." He thought to himself as Mary took his hand and pulled him along inside, obviously wondering what had come over him.

ooOoo

"Will" arranged for a private room in the restaurant they had entered, which wasn't surprising considering he worked for MI6; and they needed to be as discrete as possible regarding their exchange.

As soon as the doors closed behind them in the private room, "Will" seemed to drop out of character. "John."

John froze again as "Will" addressed him, now speaking in his London accent. His breathe caught. "You, you, know me?"

"Of course, I know you. Don't be stupid, John." Sherlock retorted. "Mycroft set up…this…" He waved his hands around…"this little…'reunion.'"

"Sher…Sherlock?" John asked with hesitance.

"Yes, John." Sherlock admitted.

"Wait! You know each other?" Mary inquired with confusion written all over her face.

"Oh, like you didn't know." Sherlock snapped at her.

"I didn't know!" Mary retorted.

John knew that look, brown contacts or not. That was the look Sherlock got when he was deducing someone. He watched Sherlock in awe, still not believing his eyes and ears. "I'm dreaming this. I must be."

"I believe you." Sherlock finally said as he now observed her with intrigue.

Mary crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Well, good. I'm glad that's settled."

"How can you be here? You're dead." John finally asked with tears forming just inside his eye lids.

"Well, clearly I'm not dead, John." Sherlock answered him.

"Wait!" Mary was really confused now. "You made him believe you were dead? Now that's just sick!"

"YES! But it was done to protect John and two others close to me." He turned to look at John and spoke with a much calmer voice. "I had no choice, John. If I could have found another way…" Sherlock explained. He observed as John was balling his fists, eyes closed. "He's angry." "John, I'm…I'm sorry."

"You made me…believe you were dead." John then looked up at Sherlock, hurt and anger clear in his eyes. "You made me…watch…you die. And you say that you had no choice?!"

"I didn't, John. You must believe me." Sherlock pleaded with him. "Moriarty gave me two choices. Either I kill myself…or you, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade would have been shot by snipers."

John stumbled. "Wh-What?!"

"I tried to force Moriarty to call them off." Sherlock continued. "But then…then…he did something I never anticipated." He paused. "He shot himself."

John and Mary both gasped. "Why would he do that?!" Mary asked with horror.

"Because he wanted to win." Sherlock told him. "But thankfully Mycroft and I…"

"Mycroft?!" John interjected. "He knew?!"

"Of course, he knew. Didn't you hear me earlier when I said Mycroft set…" He waved his arms around again. "…this little reunion up."

"NO! I was a little pre-occupied with the knowledge that my not-so-dead ex-flatmate is a complete dickhead." John just stared at Sherlock with silent rage. "Who else knew?" He asked much too calmly.

"Molly…Molly Hooper and some of my homeless network." Sherlock confessed with some form of humility.

"Molly?" John repeated deadpan. "Of course…she signed your death certificate and performed the autopsy. How convenient!" Sherlock and Mary watched in silence as John continued to stew. "So Molly Hooper, your brother, and some tramps could know about this. But I couldn't?!" John asked with hurt in his voice. "I was your friend, your only friend. You said it yourself. 'You don't have friends. You only have one.' So why?!"

Sherlock looked sincerely guilty and sad, John observed. "I-I, John, it wasn't safe for you to know. My brother and Molly were not under threat…but you were, John, so were Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade. I just couldn't risk it. I wanted to contact you and almost did…so many times."

John simply glared at Sherlock, trying to let all of this information sink in. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself by taking deep breaths. "Get a grip, Watson. You got what you've been wishing for. Sherlock isn't dead. I should be happy. Why don't I feel happy? I just feel betrayed." He opened his eyes and looked at his long lost resurrected best friend, suddenly feeling the ache in his heart start to heal. "Sherlock is alive." "I-I want to forgive you, Sherlock. I really do. You have no idea how much I wished for you to be alive again. To stop being dead."

"I'm…I'm sorry, John." Sherlock reiterated again.

John sighed as he ran his left hand through his dyed brown hair. "You don't know how much I want to punch you right now."

"Why aren't you?" Sherlock challenged.

John let out a snort and turned away, shaking his head, balling his fist as he did. "I don't know why I'm surprised by all of this."

Sherlock continued to look guilty. "I did try to tell you, John…that it was a magic trick."

"What?" John turned back to him abruptly.

"On the phone that day. I wanted to tell you the truth, but I was afraid Moriarty's people were listening. So I hoped you would understand the double meaning." Sherlock explained.

John let out another huff. "Well, I didn't 'get it', Sherlock!"

Sherlock and Mary both flinched and Sherlock began to duck away as John launched himself at Sherlock. But instead of a punch in the jaw or nose, like Sherlock expected, to his surprise John wrapped his arms tightly around his best friend in a tight hug. Mary smiled at the sight of them. John seemingly crushing Sherlock in his grip while Sherlock looked decidedly uncomfortable with the open display of sentiment. They stayed like that for at least a minute until…

"Eh hem…if you two love birds are quite done. We have a job to do." Mary interrupted.

John blushed as he released Sherlock from his grip and Sherlock was trying to regain his composure, straightening his suit jacket.

"We're not a couple." John informed her as Sherlock just retained his silence and smirked, basking in John's embarrassment as usual.

Mary just smirked. "Oh, don't be so melodramatic. It was just a joke."

"John is always melodramatic." Sherlock teased.

"And you're not…EVER?" John retorted with half jest, half spite, causing Sherlock to cringe.

Mary just shook her head, crossing her arms as she smirked at both of them. "You're both a couple of Drama Queens. Do you know that?"

John and Sherlock just looked at each other with mock expressions of being insulted. But then started giggling.

"Seriously! You're MI6 agents and now you're giggling." Mary added, which just made them laugh harder.

John looked up at Sherlock with hope and love in his eyes. "Sherlock is alive."

ooOoo

John awoke with a start, sitting straight up in bed, as he looked around at his surroundings. His heart sank as he realized where he was and the reality of his situation.

He was back in London, in his flat, not Baker Street. There was no undercover mission on a Caribbean cruise ship, and Sherlock was…still…dead. John was crushed and heartbroken. He covered his eyes with both of his hands as tears started flowing to the surface. "It was all a dream. Just a wonderful dream." John realized as the tears started flowing down his cheeks. "None of it was real."

But then he heard bounding footsteps in the hallway just before his bedroom door flew open without warning. "Come on, John! We have another lead on Moran. The game is on." Sherlock informed him and then spun around, Belstaff coat and blue scarf already on, as he left as quickly as he came, leaving John totally awestruck in his wake.

A beaming smile formed on John's face as he realized what just happened. "Sherlock is alive. It was all real." He whispered to himself. "Coming!"