I walked into the restaurant.

My palms were sweaty and I had abnormal breathing rates.

I shouldn't feel like this, I told myself. But I knew why I did- 3 years, I was gone.

3 long years, where I missed him everyday. I can only hope John will, at some point, allow me to explain.

The doormen took my coat off.

(The two were cheating on their respective wives with each other)

I looked around the tables, and finally, my eyes landed on him.

John.

The man who I spent countless days with, and even more witho- who was that? Sitting across from him was a woman. The woman was…she was his girlfriend, and John is planning on proposing soon.

I felt my eyes begin to glisten, because John looks…happy.

Untroubled, even.

It hurt.

It hurt knowing John has moved on, has likely forgotten about some parts of me.

Maybe he even constructed his own Mind Palace, and stored everything having to do with me in a very, very dark corner of his mind.

I strode towards him.

Getting a closer look at his face, I saw…is that a moustache? That is…strange.

His military background would have likely made the idea of growing facial hair a turn off. Reaching John, I lightly tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hello, John." I said. I could hear my voice crack, and rears collect in my eye ducts. He didn't pay me any mind.

"Um, hello. Are…is that really you? Are you Sherlock?" The woman asked. At the sound of my name, John looked up at me.

"You can see him too, Mary?" John said, and I saw him blink repeatedly. He got up quickly, and grabbed his cane. (I suppose the limp would have come back- it still broke my heart to see him lean on it again.) "Mary, I need…I need to talk to Sherlock, okay?" Mary nodded, and John began to drag me out the door. I pretended not to feel his thumb on my pulse.

"Taxi!" He called, and a cab pulled over. My former flatmate slid all the way over, and I was dragged in after him. "221b Baker Street, please. Over by Speedy's."

I braced myself for what John would do. Probably throw a few punches. I wouldn't be surprised if he went for his gun, (only to find that I unloaded it beforehand.) I will take it all, though. Because I deserve it. Everything John can dish out, I deserve.

The cabbie pulled up at the curb. John threw a few pounds at him, and yanked me out of the car. He unlocked the door and went up the stairs as fast as he could. At the top of the stairs, I looked around the flat.

He turned around, and punched me in the cheek. "What the hell were you thinking? Why did you-? Do you even fucking know what the bloody hell you put me threw? Do you even care? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?" He had tears streaming down his face, and started to head towards the kitchen. Getting a few mugs, he threw them against the wall near my head. "DO YOU EVEN KNOW? I WAITED FOR YOU FOR THREE YEARS. YOU MADE ME BURY YOU, SHERLOCK. OF ALL THE FRIENDS I HAVE HAD TO BURY IN THE PAST, YOU MAKE ME BURY YOU AS WELL?"

He then looked at me, and then said, "Why are you crying? Why are you smiling?"

I didn't even notice it. I managed to choke out, "Because you still care about me. You care enough to be angry. Because you didn't delete me. But mostly…it's because I can see you, and you can see me. Because we are both alive." I saw John's eyes soften noticeably, and I rushed towards him, and he ran towards me. We both hugged each other, and we cried. We sobbed, and cried, but we never let go of each other. We sit on the couch, once our tears have run dry. I still hold John though.

"John- why the hell did you grow out your moustache?"