John was having dinner at a restaurant. Alone, of course. His meal had finally arrived, and he took a mouthful of it. But then he saw something that made him choke.
He saw the impossible.
And the impossible was walking right to him.
"Hello, John." he said lightly. And the ease he said these words in made him furious.
"No. This is not possible. You are dead." he mumbled in shock and disbelief.
"Now, didn't I tell you countless times to think before you jump to conclusions?" he answered with a light smile. It all seemed to be a game for him.
"I did think. I saw you jump to your death. I saw your body, for god's sake!" he started shouting, and as the rest of the people in the place turned to look at him, he moaned and walked out. Sherlock followed him.
"John, wait."
"I've waited long enough. 3 years, Sherlock. Do you know what it does to a man?" he said furiously. He took a deep breath. "You've let me down. I've trusted you, and you let me down."
Sherlock looked to the ground in shame. He hadn't really thought of how he might have felt.
"I'm sorry." he said quietly.
"I don't need your apologies. I don't care that you left me – I'm a grown man, I can handle it. But I'm not the only one you've left behind."
Sherlock lifted his face, and instead of guilt his eyes now showed fear.
"Dana." He whispered.
"Yes. The girl that you claimed to love was left alone. She saw your corpse, Sherlock. After having the trauma of her sister's death, of her own death, she had to watch you die as well."
"Where is she?" he hissed.
"I couldn't take care of her by my own, Sherlock. I just couldn't. I had to check her in again." John said in exhaustion.
"You checked her in the mental hospital?" he asked very quietly, in desperation.
"Yes."
Sherlock started walking quickly to the road, searching for a cab.
"Wait, Sherlock. There's no point in going there to visit her."
"I'm sorry, John, but I'm not quite asking for your opinion about it."
"No, I meant that there is no point in going there because she is not there anymore."
Sherlock turned to face him again.
"So where is she?"
John hesitated a moment before answering.
"I – I don't know."
"What do you mean 'you don't know'?" he asked in fury.
"It means that I don't know." John answered, ignorant to his anger. "She was there for 2 years, and then one day she just wasn't. Someone checked her out anonymously, and we have no idea who it was."
Sherlock's hand clenched into fists, and he walked around in rage.
"This is your fault. You shouldn't have checked her in in the first place."
"My fault?!" John shouted, equally angry. "Do you know why I did it, Sherlock? I did it because she tried to kill herself. After being completely ignorant to everything and everyone around her, after grieving you in complete silence and fasting for three days, she went to the top of the building you jumped off, and she did the same. Only she didn't land well, somehow. She barely survived the fall. After a week she was better, and I immediately checked her in the mental hospital to keep her from hurting herself again. So no, Sherlock, this isn't my fault. This isn't anyone's fault but yours."
Sherlock was startled. She had told him about her occasionally being suicidal, and he had saved her from committing it once, but she was so well since then he didn't even take it under consideration. He needed to sit down, but he didn't really have a place to do so. John saw his sorrow, but as remorseful he was, he felt like he deserved this pain.
Sherlock suddenly lifted his head, and his eyes looked sharp.
"What is it?" John noticed the immediate change.
"Her phone. I can track it. I can find her."
He went closer to the road again, but then he turned back to John.
"I don't suppose you live in Baker Street anymore."
"No, I don't."
"So there's only one place I can be certain I'll be given help." he called a cab, and one stopped for him. He entered it, and left the door open.
"Are you coming?"
"I can't do this again. Not anymore. It's been too long." he said tiredly.
"Don't do this for me – do it for her. I bet you're dying to find her as well."
John reluctantly entered the cab and closed the door behind him.
There was an awkward silence for a few moments, since John was still upset with Sherlock, and Sherlock wasn't the best at chatting.
"So what have you been doing when I… wasn't around?" Sherlock asked awkwardly.
"Three years is a long time, Sherlock. I've been through a lot."
"Any girlfriend?"
"I'm engaged, as a matter of fact."
Sherlock was clearly surprise, and John wasn't sure if it should insult him.
"Oh, really? What is she like?"
John sighed.
"Can we not do this?"
"Do what?"
"Pretend that you care? Because if you had you would have told me you're alive, you wouldn't have left me to mourn over you for so long." he said and looked at him.
Sherlock was quiet for a moment.
"John, I –" he started saying, but then the cab stopped and John immediately left, leaving him to pay. After he did, he went out after him quickly.
"Wait, John, I –"
"Don't bother."
"If you don't want to listen to what I have to say, then you don't have to. But you really should follow me if you don't want to get lost." Sherlock said and started walking towards a building. John sighed and followed him. He caught up with him.
"Three years might be long time, but not enough for this to change." He heard him mutter as they entered the familiar building. And after they've walked inside for a minute, John finally recognized it. The big room, the men sitting in complete silence on chairs, and the big wooden doors they walked to. Sherlock opened them.
"Hello, brother."
Mycroft, to John's surprise, looked more confused than shocked.
"Sherlock, I thought you were…" he voice trailed off, so Sherlock completed his sentence impatiently.
"Dead, yes, I know. That was the point. Now can we please skip the whole sentimental reunion and get to the point?"
"And what is the point, exactly?"
Sherlock looked at his eyes, and it didn't take Mycroft more than a couple of seconds to understand what he was talking about.
"I've already tried finding her. I still am, in fact. I installed a program that is meant to search for Dana's face in all of London's cameras, and alert me once it does. It never did."
"That's because you're searching for the wrong thing." Sherlock said, walked over to the computer and started working on it passionately.
"The chances that she still has her phone on her are tiny. What makes you so sure she does?"
"Did I say 'phone'? Sorry, I meant 'earrings'." he answered without looking up from the computer.
"Earrings?!" John said in fury. "Women change their earring every week!"
"Not these earrings. These are a present from her mother for her twentieth birthday. Only gift she ever got from her after Aly's death." he said, still without looking.
"I really did know nothing about her, didn't I?" Mycroft said quietly.
"Yes, you were a terrible boyfriend." his brother answered in thoughtlessness.
"Ah!" he shouted with excitement, and John came to see what happened.
There was a map on the screen, with a red flashing dot on it.
"Wasn't there an old hotel there once? 'Jades'?" John asked.
"It's been shut down ages ago. The building is empty ever since."
"Well, apparently it isn't. Mycroft, are you coming?" Sherlock straightened up and asked.
"Unfortunately, no. I've got too much to do here. But let me know if you do find her." he said as Sherlock started walking to the door.
"Sherlock." he called to his brother again. He turned.
"I'm glad that you're not dead." he said quietly.
Sherlock put on a small smile on his face, which John wasn't sure whether it was a real or a fake one, and they left.
