SPOILERS for Reichenbach Falls, if you haven't seen it.
Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock or it's characters.
His hair was shorter, and lighter, like he'd spent a lot of time in the sun. He had a bit of a tan, actually, though he still had that pale, ethereal glow about him. Like a ghost.
John recognized him immediately, like he'd recognize the sound of gunfire. It felt like a knife to the gut, pain and disbelief slowing his brain. And he could imagine what he'd have said… or what he'd have said before, because now he's just looking at John with one of those looks. He'd have rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Observe, John. You see, but you don't observe."
I never thought I'd see Sherlock Holmes… the thought should end 'again,' but it rips at the pain in his gut and he pushes it away. Tan.
"John," he says, and the voice is another thing because he had spent hours trying to remember it and God was it always that low? That's all he says, then it's silent again, and John is suddenly aware it's been very quiet for a long time.
A very long time. He could give the number of days, but there's that pesky twinge of heartbreak, low in his stomach. He suspects they both know, anyway.
The desire to do something comes over him, and before it's registered John has moved forward, hands shaking until there's a mere foot between them. He looks up into the not-dead man's pale eyes and sees only the blood running over them, and then Sherlock Holmes opens his bloody mouth. John can remember a time when he wanted his flat mate to keep his brilliance to himself for a bit and now he just wants him to talk more, give John a chance to re-learn his voice and then he's so angry that before he knows it Sherlock reeling back from a solid punch to the cheek.
He stumbles, and John shoves him until he looses his footing. Then he's about to fall over, and as his mind registers Sherlock falling, pavement, blood, a black headstone and a flat that hasn't heard gunshots in three years, John grabs his jacket.
Then they're hugging, which is a bit awkward because Sherlock just doesn't hug, and John is very affectionate either, but he grabs his best friend around the middle and growls "You bastard," over and over into his familiar blue scarf.
And eventually they stop hugging and perhaps John hits him again and Sherlock definitely insults him which probably doesn't make him tear up.
Mrs. Hudson, of course, comes to investigate the noise and there are tears and a surprising amount of creative curse words. An explanation is demanded.
"It was… dangerous," Sherlock says, fists clenched. He looks at John, and for what must be the first time Sherlock Holmes looks tremendously, crushingly sorry. And he's smiling. "I had to. Friends protect people."