A loud gasp and pants escaped the former soldier as he had pushed himself to a sitting position. His hands moved to scrub the sleep from his face after he'd caught his breath as he shook his head, forcing the tears back. "For god's sake.." He muttered as he looked over at his digital clock, 0536 it read. God this is too early to be awake… Can't go back to sleep now. Might as well get up and get ready for work. Oh yeah, it's Christmas Eve today. Great, another Christmas without him.

Forcing his tired body out of bed, John moved to his closet to pull out his warm jogger's clothes. Ever since Sherlock's death, John always found himself needing something to do, and he wasn't about to start sitting around and drinking his sorrows away, just like his sister. Once he was dressed, John descended the stairs from his room towards the kitchen to get his bottle of water, his earphones and Sherlock's phone. Taking his time to stretch out his muscles, he eventually felt ready for his long run to come.

After he'd set up Sherlock's phone to play his music, John smiled softly as the music seemed to uplift his mood just a bit. Next, he placed the earphones in his ears and the water bottle in his little pouch on his jogger trousers, thank god they'd designed the trousers to have a special pocket to hold the water bottle in place. Now he headed out onto the streets, deciding to take his favorite route this time, he broke out into a fast run to start with.

For the last three years, John had been plagued with nightmares of Sherlock, it didn't matter what happened in his dreams, Sherlock was always in it. Never once in the three years had he forgotten about his dear friend for a second, he'd been driven to take his therapy again because he had no one to talk to, no one to vent with. Even thoughts of suicide had crossed his mind but as soon as he thought about it, he could hear Sherlock's voice in his mind. Don't be an idiot John, I still need you. For some reason, that last part had him confused. Sherlock still needed John? But Sherlock was dead. A part of John still couldn't believe that Sherlock was dead, that part just couldn't. No matter how hard he tried to let it sink in, there was definitely something off about it but he had no choice but to carry on in his own life.

Every time he'd thought about leaving the flat, moving back with his sister to help her with her alcohol problem, he just couldn't. There was just something in him that couldn't bring himself to let go and it frustrated him but John just couldn't ignore it.

It pained him to think about how Sherlock had died, that scene always replayed in his mind when he was at his worst moments. The one thing that bothered John so much, that he just couldn't figure out, no matter how hard he'd tried. No matter how much time he'd spent thinking about it, there was just no trace of it, no evidence. It pained him to think about it but he always wondered every day about it. Just why did Sherlock do it? What could have possibly pushed his best friend to kill himself?

Sherlock, of course had just the perfect life as far as John saw it, his best friend never once seemed depressed. Sure, being bored would have driven him to shoot the wall but boredom wouldn't have done it. It had to be something else. Perhaps Moriarty had gotten to him, but John just couldn't figure it out. Moriarty was gone, he knew that for sure because they'd told him just so on the same roof that Sherlock had been killed, they found his body and Sherlock's phone, which he kept. Of course, John had already gone through everything he could think of on Sherlock's phone to try and find a reason as to why Sherlock had jumped off that roof. Moriarty definitely had something to do with it but those two people, the only two that were on that roof that had the one answer he was looking for, was dead.

After John had arrived back at 221b, it was 0743. That was definitely a good run. I enjoyed that. Placing away his water bottle to be washed in the sink, John pulled off his earphones and shut off the phone before heading up to his room to grab his comfortable clothes. Soon setting away the clothes to rest atop of the closed lid of the toilet for after his shower, but John was hungry so the shower could wait a little longer.

First off, John plugged in the kettle and turned it on, allowing the water time to boil, he prepared two cups. Pulling out the items he wanted to use for breakfast, which usually consisted of toast, eggs, bacon and hash browns. Once he had put on the eggs and bacon to cook, the kettle began to scream for attention. John quickly shut it off, before he took out two cups, he filled both of them with tea before he stopped and realized what he'd done yet again. This always happened to him, every morning. A slightly sad expression etched his face as he poured out his detectives' cup of tea, he set the empty cup aside. The army doctor placed his steaming cup on the kitchen table to cool for a few moments so he could finish making his breakfast. At least this time, he only made one plate, for himself.

Once breakfast was finished cooking and plated, he sat down and began to eat it, alternating between drinking his tea and eating his breakfast. It didn't take him too long before he was finished already. After the dishes were set aside for washing later, John headed towards the bathroom, it was finally time to wash off the sweat from his morning run.

Of course, the army doctor really did miss Sherlock, he wished sometimes that Sherlock would randomly pop up sometime and John would be happy again. Although if Sherlock ever did pop up again, John was going to have one hell of a reaction towards that event. Despite his reaction, he would definitely be happy in the end anyways, because then he wouldn't have to go through life alone. John would be able to hear Sherlock playing his sweet old violin, soothing him to sleep or to even chase away his nightmares. God, the nightmares was the worst of them all. The loneliness and the emptiness of the flat was definitely the first thing he hated. Even if he wished for his best friend back, he already had convinced himself that it was never going to happen.

The shower shut off as John stepped out to wrap a towel around his waist, sighing as he wiped down the mirror so he could shave his face and brush his lovely teeth as part of his usual routine every morning. Soon pulling on his comfortable clothes, he would change into his work clothes before work, later. It was now 0819 and he had to be at work by 1000, indeed it was far too early to be awake but he had no choice. Once he was finished in the bathroom, he headed back into the living room to read the paper and to allow his hair to air dry.

The morning generally consisted of John finishing the paper, and if he had some time before work, he'd usually try to write in his blog but he never updated it really. Sometimes he'd end up watching some telly or simply just thinking in his armchair about anything that would come to mind, usually it had something to do with Sherlock.

Once it was close enough to the time he had to finish getting ready for work, John changed into his work clothes and left the flat. He wouldn't be coming home until just a bit later than usual since he wanted to work overtime. After all, he needed something to do and that was what he always did nowadays, the extra money was definitely nice. John had bought a new fridge, a dishwasher and he had been debating on whether or not to buy a newer, better television. After that, perhaps a new laptop or to save the money to renovate the flat, it would definitely give him a lot of things to do and he needed that.

While John was working, Sherlock stood across the street outside the flat, watching the door as butterflies swarmed his stomach, the closer he got to 221b, the faster his heart seemed to race. Once he was finally at the door, he used his key and opened it himself, quietly making his way up into the flat, being quiet so that Mrs Hudson didn't hear him or notice him and end up spoiling his surprise he had planned.

"John?" Sherlock whispered after having closed the door to the flat before he began to walk around, looking for the one man he wanted. "John!" He called again. "Are you here? Anyone home?" He called again before he found himself being the only one in the flat. "I guess not."Sherlock mumbled to himself before sighing. Well that didn't work as well as I thought… Where is John anyway? He hasn't moved going by the state of the dishes… He left half an hour ago, how did I not see him leave? Well, what shall I do until then? Sherlock sighed as he stood there, taking in the state of the flat. Much cleaner than usual. No papers scattered anywhere, so much more organized and neat. New fridge and dishwasher… Hmm… Let's see my room. Soon Sherlock stepped into his room to see how it was and of course as he expected, it hadn't been touched, except for the fact that his room was very neat and clean.

Now, back to the living room. What day is today? Ah, December 24th, Christmas Eve. There's something off here, isn't there? I'm missing something. Once Sherlock's eyes had raked through the flat, trying to figure out what he was missing then it hit him upon seeing the wrapped presents stashed away in the corner. Oh! I'm an idiot… No Christmas decorations here. Where are they? Why hasn't John… Oh, of course.

It had been his fault. It always had been a thing for himself and John to decorate the tree together. Plus, even if John had decorated the tree himself, it would remind him too much of Sherlock due to Sherlock's special Christmas ornaments and the way he liked to decorate the tree.

Well, I suppose now that gives me something to do.

With that thought, Sherlock headed over to the storage closet and pulled out the two boxes of Christmas decorations, one big box was the tree which was easy to set up, the other one was full of little crime scene ornaments or experimenting items and a few fake appendages. It didn't take him too long before he decorated the tree with those special ornaments and a crime scene tape instead of Christmas tree lights. Once the tree was all set up and ready, Sherlock debated on what to do with the Christmas lights. Finally deciding upon hanging them up along the corners of the ceiling, outlining the room as the last line of lights he had was hung up along the door frame to the kitchen.

That was everything to decorate the whole flat with. The lanky detective was about to put the boxes away when he found a mistletoe and smiled, soon deciding to hang it up above the sofa. Now, that was perfect. Something was missing from the tree though, what was it? Ah! His skull! Soon grabbing the skull off the shelf above the fireplace, he set it atop the tree before smiling at his success. Now he was done.

Taking the boxes, he pushed them back into the storage closet before he found the other two things he was looking for. A Santa hat and a wrapping gift bow. Perfect.

Oh but he wasn't just quite done yet. Half an hour was left until John would be home at the usual time, unless he was working overtime. Sherlock quickly made some tea, setting it aside on the coffee table, he pushed all the stashed presents beneath the tree, made sure the fire was going nice and cozy before he finally sat down alongside the tree.

Quickly, he pulled on the Santa hat and debated on where to put the bow, finally settling on the left side of his chest. Now, he had to wait for John to come home.

An hour passed and Sherlock began to wonder and worry where John was, soon getting the idea of texting him. Picking up his phone, he began to type but he stopped when the thought crossed his mind. I'm trying to surprise him, aren't I? Well I guess I'll have to wait until he gets home… If he works overtime then I'm going to guess that there's about two more hours before he gets home, but if he's gone shopping at Tesco's then it'll be about half an hour longer. If a date… No, it couldn't be a date. John's too depressed over me to be dating anyone. As far as I know, he hasn't packed anything so he's not visiting anyone. His fridge has plenty of food and there's definitely milk so he shouldn't need to go shopping. Therefore leaving the option of working overtime. Oh well, I suppose I should just sit here and wait, just in case I'm wrong.

For an hour and a half, Sherlock sat there by the tree, his arse getting numb but he had to get up and walk around for a little while to get feeling back into his legs. Dumping out the cold tea, he made some more so it was steaming hot for John. Perhaps the lights would show if the room was a little dimmer, so he dimmed the lights just enough so that the lights would pop out just a bit better.

Returning to his seat on the floor by the tree and the fireplace, he waited.

Footsteps were heard ascending the stairs, Sherlock straightened his back and put on a smile. Oh god, John's home. He'll be so happy to see me. I can't wait, he's home! Sherlock felt his heart speed up and the butterflies swarmed his stomach, feeling almost breathless as he tilted his head and watched as the doorknob began to turn.

The army doctor was tired from his day of work, he just couldn't wait to lay on the sofa and just relax. That was such a long day, I guess that's to be expected when I work overtime. Can't wait to have some tea an- What the hell…

As he stepped into the room, his eyes widened at the condition of it, decorations and lights everywhere, he was speechless, then his eyes settled on the figure sitting by the tree. Sherlock?

It couldn't be, could it? I'm not hallucinating again am I? "Sherlock?" John called as he quickly closed the door behind him and hung up his coat, setting down his briefcase, he blinked and rubbed his eyes. No, it's not him. It bloody can't be! A sense of shock overwhelmed him when he heard his own name by the familiar baritone voice he sorely missed. "What.."

Sherlock slowly stood and gave a smile as he cautiously stepped closer. "Yes, John. It's me. I'm home."

"You.." John's eyes widened a bit, a flash of happiness, hurt then anger overwhelmed him. "You bloody bastard!" John shouted as his fist collided with Sherlock's cheekbone, causing him to wince at the contact. Now he really did believe it was Sherlock. "Sherlock, how could you leave me for three bloody years? Why did you do it? WHY?!" The volume of John's voice increased and increased until he was shouting at him. "How dare you! You have no idea what I went through, all those years!" At this point, John was ready to punch him again despite his fist still throbbing from the first hit.

Sherlock tried to avoid the second hit but winced when it had hit his cheek again, thankful he hadn't fallen at this point because John was losing it. Quickly before John could hit him again, he grabbed his hand and held onto it. "John." Was all he said and that was it.

Struggling a little with Sherlock's hold on his hands, he tried to hit him a few times in the chest but he was feeling his emotions well up from deep within and it had burst as soon as he heard his name. Now slumped against Sherlock's chest, the tears began to fall as he sobbed. "How dare you, Sherlock. You hurt me… I.." John's voice cracked and was weakened. John wouldn't normally give into his emotions, but he'd been holding it in for far too long.

Closing his eyes, he let out a long sigh as his hands moved from John's own to his back, rubbing him there as in an embrace to help soothe him. "I know John." Burying his face into John's hair, he began to speak. "I'm so sorry, I know there's nothing I can do to make up for those years I hurt you and I don't expect to be forgiven. I won't forgive myself, I couldn't. Not after how much I've hurt you. I'm truly sorry and all I ask of you is to take me back so I can try to make it better. I don't expect things to be the same again." A long silence between the two of them but soon John had stopped crying and he felt him look up at him.

"I've suffered a great deal of pain myself over the years so I know partially of how you feel and I can't tell you how much of a relief it is to be back, if you'll let me stay, that is."

"Sherlock.. I… I've missed you so much, and you're my best friend. Of course I'll let you stay, I wouldn't let you leave again. Just one thing… Promise me one thing, please. Just don't ever leave like that again. Promise me you'll tell me next time if it has to happen again. Please." John begged as he continued to watch Sherlock's face.

"I… I promise, I promise John, if it ever happens again, I'd rather die, but I'll do everything I can to ensure it doesn't happen again."

John couldn't help but smile at the sincerity of Sherlock's voice as he gave a nod before shifting to his toes and slowly leaning up to press his lips against Sherlock's own.

Surprised crossed his face upon feeling John's lips press against his own but this had been something he'd been dreaming about for so long, his lips moved of their own accord to the kiss.

After a few moments, they broke apart for air, Sherlock's lips tingling as he smiled down at John, hoping it wasn't short-lived or something John regretted but the next words he heard from John had him relax.

"Thank you Sherlock. I've been waiting for so long to tell you how I feel about you now and I've never realized it until after you were gone… I.." John paused and bit his lip nervously. "I'm in love with you, Sherlock and I'm still not gay because I'm not attracted to men, it's just you."

It took Sherlock a few moments before John's words sunk in and once again, he smiled as he looked deep into John's eyes. "I'm in love with you too." With that, Sherlock leaned down and kissed him with more feeling.

In between kisses, John mumbled something that had made Sherlock chuckle.

"I'm not sorry I punched you."

"You're forgiven."