I hate the producers of Sherlock, how can they do this to John! (honestly I think they did a great job of the latest ep…but they need to have the next one up much sooner..I can't wait for an entire year!) I want to thank my lovely beta reader for the work she did on my chapters :D Thank you Dennydifferent.

The blond man slowly ascended the stairs, on his way to his oh so empty apartment. It had been two months. Two painfully quiet months that Sherlock was gone. He had taken a leave of absence from the practice for two weeks after it, but now he was picking up the shards of his life again. The silence was still too much to bear though, every time he expected a request for tea, for a pen, for the paper, for anything! He wondered how long it would take for his brain to acknowledge that Sherlock was really gone. There still was this niggling thought in the back of his head that there would be some sort of miracle, that one day Sherlock would be doing some strange experiment in the kitchen, as if he had never jumped off that building.

As he opened the door he sighed as there was once again an empty apartment. The shadows long and conveying his feelings perfectly as he placed his bag of groceries in the kitchen.

"You didn't change anything." The deep baritone voice cut through his thoughts.

"No I didn't, how could I change anything you left behind." He was used to talking to the ghost now. His deceptive mind playing tricks on him.

"John…I'm so sorry."

"Of course you are, you left me Sherlock, you're dead…it's easy for you to feel sorry when I'm the one that needs to move on." John still didn't turn around, just kept continuing to put the tea away, and the milk he always seemed to run out of when he had still been living with Sherlock.

His fingers lost his grip for a second, and for a moment, time seemed to slow down for John, as he watched with a strange fascination how the bottle of milk fell to the ground. The same way Sherlock had looked. Only the milk never ended up on the floor. It ended up in a white hand, with long fingers gripping it. It took John a while to realize he wasn't alone. He followed the fingers, to a wrist, an arm covered in purple silk, up to the face of the man that had been haunting him for the past two months.

"Hi…" Sherlock uttered. No-not Sherlock. It had to be a ghost somehow. And suddenly John was taken back to the time that they had forced a cab to a standstill and Sherlock had said; "Welcome to London". He doubled over, laughing his head off. It was a hysterical laughter. He had gone officially insane.

"John? John are you alright?" And then he was off the ground, not laughing anymore, just trying to hurt the man standing in front of him. Hurt him as much as he could. Trying to make him feel the same pain that he was dealing with, but he knew it could only ever be a fraction of what he felt.

"John stop it! John!" Sherlock never hit back, he just deflected most of the punches the best he could against the ex-soldier. And just as fast as he had started it, as fast the life went out of him.

"You were dead, you are dead…how could you do this to me Sherlock? I saw you fall!" The genius felt the wetness of Johns tears on his face as he stared up in those brown eyes.

There was a slam of the door as it was roughly pushed open. "I should have known you'd go here. For Gods sake Sherlock. There is a reason we didn't want John to know."

"Mycroft? YOU KNEW? So when I came to you, screaming, pleading for him to come back you were just having your fun!" John was furious and confused.

"Mycroft and I decided to keep me away from you for your own protection, to keep you safe." Sherlock was still lying underneath John as the smaller man had tackled him during the assault.

"And we would have succeeded if you hadn't come here Sherlock, we made the plan for a reason!"

"What plan god damnit?" John needed this cleared up before he officially went insane .

"I was to disappear…take out all of Moriarty his men, to make sure there was no threat. You needed to be safe, you needed to believe my death…they would go after you otherwise."

"Yes, and Sherlock here rendered that plan futile by showing up here You might want to get up Dr Watson…I don't think my brothers ribs have healed completely yet." Oh how John wanted to hit the older man.

"You two are idiots! Especially you Sherlock! You know me and still you think you are keeping me safe by dying? I was miserable you moron. Did you two ever consider the fact that while I might be physically safe I would still be hurt? Do you know I have to pass Bart's every single damn day, Looking at that roof knowing that you jumped? And hearing everyone tell me what a terrible fake you were? A murderer, a psychopath. Right now I'm willing to believe them as you've proved yourself so capable of hurting me!"

"I wanted to keep you safe…"

"Then you should have let me in on the bloody plan in the first place! No, you're Sherlock…you always work alone." That seemed to spark something in the brunette.

"I tried to! I tried to work on my own, but deducing is impossible to do if you are haunted by images of the man that thinks you are dead! I'm lost without my blogger John, why do you think I'm here= Why do you think I ruined the plan Mycroft and I made mere minutes before I jumped?" It would be so easy to believe him, to wrap his arms around that lanky frame and never let him go. Yet the doubt was still there. "This is all a dream…"

"John this isn't" Mycroft began.

"Go away! You aren't real…don't torture me anymore. Don't force me to hear more of this rubbish only to wake up and find him gone again…" He started to pinch his arm, trying to wake up from this horrible nightmare. Sherlock attempted to touch him, but he violently jerked back, hitting his head on one of the open cupboards and then John knew no more.

AN more to come obviously :D