Sherlock had faked his death, and then he made sure that Moriarty´s net of crime was dismantled. It took about 18 months, in which he traveled around the continent, getting each and every one of Moriarty´s goons caught.
He came back to Baker St. worried about John´s reaction to him being alive. He knew he´d be angry at him, but was sure his friend would understand that it had to be done.
The apartment was empty.
He ran downstairs to Mrs Hudson. She fainted when she saw he was alive. Sherlock would have usually worried about her, but this time he became impatient. He had to know where John was.
It took quite a whole for her to regain consciousness. Has soon as she did, Sherlock started bombarding her with questions. Where is John? Why is the apartment empty? Where did John go? Why did you let him leave?
He didn´t believe her answer. He knew she wouldn´t lie to him, but he just could bear to believe it-it couldn´t be true.
So he went to find one of the other few people he trusted.
"Sherlock!You´re alive! Why? How?"
Lestrade could not believe his eyes. They had buried this man. How was it possible for him to be standing there? He was in utter shock.
"There is no time for that, Lestrade-Sherlock interrupted him- I need to know it is not true. Tell me it is not true."
Lestrade didn´t have to ask. He knew what Sherlock was talking about. He sighed. He wished it weren´t true, he wished it full heartedly.
"He is an army doctor, Sherlock. He was needed. A couple of months after you… died, he signed in. He felt like nothing was tiding him here, so he left."
Sherlock slowly walked away from Lestrade´s office. Donovan and Anderson starred at him and started to whisper. Sherlock couldn´t have care less. He had to get him back, before it was too late, before something irremediablehappened.
He had to go to his brother. Mycroft was the only one who could fix this.
Calling in a favor from Mycroft…
He had never done that in his entire life. But there was always a first for everything, wasn´t it? He had to swallow his pride, because this was more important that "some childish feud", as Mycroft called it. He needed his friend home; he needed John to be safe, which was all that mattered to him.
He couldn´t bear the thought that his friend might die because of him. He just couldn´t.
He went back to Baker Street. He texted Mycroft and sat down to wait for him. Mycroft arrived fifteen minutes later to find his younger brother staring aimlessly at the wall. That attitude wasn´t Sherlock-like.
Sherlock looked at his brother without saying a word. Mycroft did the same. They starred at each other for a few seconds until Mycroft decided to break the silence.
"You´re back."
"Yes. You don´t seem surprised to see me."
"I heard some rumors. Criminals in France and Spain getting caught. Criminals with ties to Moriarty. I had the feeling it was you, I just wasn´t sure."
"You never told John about your suspicions, didn´t you?"
"No. Like I said, I had no evidence it was actually you. I didn´t want to get his hopes up, finding out it wasn´t you and put him through it all over again. "
"But he enlisted."
"I tried to stop him, Sherlock, I really did, but there was nothing I could do."
"You ARE the British government! THERE MUST HAVE BEEN SOMETHING YOU COULD HAVE DONE! "
"He was driving insane, Sherlock. The limp came back, he couldn´t sleep, he didn´t eat for days...He need it, it would have been a lot worse for him if I had stopped him"
"Then there must be something you can do now. Please. I beg you."
It was in that moment that Mycroft realized exactly how much his brother cared for John Watson. "He could be the making of my brother, or make him worse than ever", he had once said. And now he knew. John Watson had made Sherlock Holmes a better man. And now, John Watson was gone and his brother was willing to beg in order to get him back.
"I see what I can do-Mycroft said. He carefully placed his hand on Sherlock´s shoulder- I´ll do my best to bring him safe to you."
It wasn´t until a week later that Mycroft came back to Baker Street with news.
He entered the apartment to find his brother exactly as he had left him.
"Have you eaten anything at all?"
He found no answered, just a pleading look for information.
"I´ve found him. He´s being flown in tomorrow morning- He saw a smile across his brother´s face- Sherlock, there´s something I need to tell you."
"Is he dead? - His eyes widened in fear-Is he?"
"No, but he has been wounded. His spine. They don´t know the full damage of it yet."
Sherlock silently fell back to his chair. "Wounded-he repeated- he´s wounded."
"I´ve already got the best specialists in standby to take a look as soon as he lands. He´d be taken to the best hospital and will have the best medical care in the country."
Sherlock didn´t say a word.
"He is still alive, Sherlock. He is alive. You should be happy."
"My best friend… he´s … because of me" He walked away, leaving his brother alone.
The next morning, Mycroft sent a car to pick Sherlock up.
Sherlock arrived at the hospital to find Mycroft talking to some doctors and a nurse. As he walked up to them, he heard him thank them all for everything they had done. The doctors and the nurse left.
"So? How is he doing?"
"He´s asleep now. He got a bit worked up during the ride so they gave him some pills."
"And his spine?"
"They took a look at the x-rays. They´ll have to get an MRI to confirm it, but apparently with physiotherapy he´ll be fine."
Sherlock sighed in relief
"Can I see him?"
"He´s sleeping, but if you want to..."
Sherlock never waited for the answer. He just entered John´s room.
He sat in the chair next to his bed and took John´s hand in his.
His best friend was alive. And he was happy about it.
He looked out the window. Mycroft was standing there.
"Thank you"- He muttered.
Mycroft smiled and nodded his head. John Watson had indeed made his brother a better man.