I don't care how you faked it, Sherlock. I wanna know why.
Even though he eventually forgives his friend, the question is still nagging at the back of his mind.
Sherlock should have told him; they were friends – hell, they still are, no matter how much of an idiot the great detective is sometimes. Most of times, really.
It's only when they're standing in the shadows of a bloodied sunset that he finally gets the answer.
Get away from me, John! Stay well back!
Something cracks inside his chest, but he doesn't cry. He's a soldier, and soldiers don't cry.