Sherlock
Sherlock had been away from 221B Baker Street for two years to the day. He had worked hard during this time. He had unearthed most of Moriarty's web, at least enough to satisfy himself that John, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson were safe. There were a few flies of the web remaining though. However, Moriarty, to a large extent employed the chinese wall approach often employed in law firms to avoid a conflict of interest where very few of his 'minions' actually knew the full extent to which Mortiarty operated in his capacity as a criminal consultant. This had been a blessing to Sherlock because, finding and neutralising the few who knew of Moriarty's plan to kill Sherlock by threatening his friends turned out to be a relatively easy, 2 year task especially because they believed Sherlock to be dead.
He had made sure that anyone who would harm his friends were well and truly out of the picture… some had died in suspicious circumstances, some had disappeared and some, well some of them never really existed in the first place. There was one thing that they all knew about Sherlock at the very end - Never threaten the people who Sherlock Holmes holds most dear… Never.
Sherlock approached his old apartment with a sense of fear. He did not feel fear ordinarily. But he was truly terrified that John's reaction to him being alive would be less than favourable. Of course he expected some form of disdain but his fear was that of disdain which was not followed by forgiveness.
He opened the door (of course it was unlocked – Mrs Hudson was ever so forgetful sometimes) and he climbed the stairs. He realised almost right away that no one was home. He stood in his living room feeling comfort. He had never returned here. He never dared. But today things felt right. He had been standing in awe looking around the apartment when he heard the door open. He heard John's voice call out to Mrs Hudson and when she didn't answer he heard John mumble something about leaving the door unlocked. He smiled; it was still his friend, his John… albeit scarred from the loss of Sherlock.
Sherlock stood in the centre of the room and turned, waiting for his friend to see him, to punch him and then hopefully forgive him.
John walked through the door with the daily newspaper in hand and his eyes fell on Sherlock standing there. There was silence. John's mouth fell open. He stared at Sherlock for a long while. His expression changed from shocked, to confused, to hurt and back to shock. He was on the brink of tears but he was trying to hide it. Sherlock smiled.
"Sherlock.. you.. you are" John said in an almost breathless voice.
"Indeed I am John, my dear friend" Sherlock said in a gentle voice.
More silence. John's expression turned to anger. And as expected, almost right on cue, John punched Sherlock square in the jaw.
John
John was missing Sherlock terribly today. He had dreaded this anniversary even more than the first. The more time passed the more John realised that Sherlock was not coming back. The continued glimmer of hope faded by the day and one day John knew it would be gone. And John did not know how he would react to that fact.
The hope, the smallest, tiniest amount of hope that Sherlock will be alive is what kept him going. He knew that Sherlock was dead of course. He had told himself that over and over again but he also knew that Sherlock was not a fake. He just knew it and it was for this reason that he could not understand why Sherlock had killed himself. He just did not know.
He had woken up this morning with a terrible sadness weighing on him. It was so much worse than it had been in the past. He just wanted his friend back. He had gotten up and made himself a cup of tea. Surprisingly his limp never returned. It was early and so he stepped out to get the paper. He had thought he saw Sherlock standing across the road, looking away from him but at a glimpse he was gone. "Oh bloody hell now I'm hallucinating too." He was frustrated and it was very cold so he grabbed the paper from the corner store and walked back to the apartment.
The door opened as it was not locked. "Mrs Hudson?" he called. No answer. "I must have left it unlocked." He mumbled to himself.
He climbed the stairs. Had he been Sherlock Holmes he would have noticed that the flat's door to the living room was open and not closed like he had left it. But he wasn't Sherlock Holmes and it was for this reason that he was about to experience one of the most shocking and joyful moments of his life.
He stepped into the living room and saw Sherlock standing there. He could not read the expression on Sherlock's face but that was the last thing on his mind. He saw his friend, alive standing there and he felt all the air getting knocked out of his lungs. In an instant he felt a wave of different emotions. His mouth fell open in awe. He could not believe his own eyes. This was not a hallucination. Sherlock was standing there in front of him - the real Sherlock.
Was this a hallucination? How could Sherlock possibly have survived?
Why did he leave John alone for two years? How could he do this to John? He could not believe it. These emotions built on one another and he could feel tears welling up but he will not let himself cry. Not now.
Sherlock smiled at him. He smiled at John and this made John realise that he felt so very happy. At this very moment he was so happy.
"Sherlock.. you.. you are," John said, finding it hard to get the words out and feeling utterly breathless.
"Indeed I am John, my dear friend" Sherlock said in his stupid wonderful voice.
Stupid horrible Sherlock the twat! Bloody ruddy selfish brilliant consulting detective. John was angry. And almost as if he had to do it, as if he had always been predestined to punch Sherlock at this very moment, he punched Sherlock Holmes who obviously expected the punch as he braced himself for it but who nevertheless, let John punch him with full force.
Sherlock
Once the punch was over and both of them had managed to stand up straight again Sherlock and John finally looked at each other again. They just looked at each other for a long moment and then, as if they were never separated, they started laughing together. They laughed like they had been in one of their ridiculous situations that were so unbelievably nonsensical that their only resort was to laugh.
Sherlock felt relieved. John will forgive him. Not right away of course. He had created a barrier between them and only time will knock it down. But nevertheless, they were both there. They were both happy.
Then they both heard Mrs Hudson coming up the stairs, no doubt coming see what the laughing was about and who was with John and why, all of a sudden John was so happy.
"John, you left the ruddy door unlocked again.. you know people can just wa.." She had stepped into the living room and she had seen Sherlock. Sherlock smiled at her, "hello Mrs Hudson."
And then she fainted.
John
The punch felt good, mainly because it proved to John that Sherlock was real but also because it was the tiniest amount of justice for what Sherlock had put him through.
Both men composed themselves. John looked Sherlock straight in the eye. He had no more emotions to feel other than glad to be looking at his friend. And then, in a moment that reminded John about the time they had been to Buckingham Palace and they had laughed together, they started laughing together again.
Sherlock could not have known this but John had already forgiven Sherlock. He had forgiven him every day for the past two years and he had forgiven him the moment he stepped into the living room. John trusted Sherlock completely and he knew that Sherlock would never have left unless it was for a good reason. And in time, he would know why and he would know how Sherlock survived but for now there was just laughing.
He heard Mrs Hudson coming up the stairs yelling at John about not locking the ruddy door. She did not finish the thought though because she had walked into the living room. She saw Sherlock and she saw John, happy for the first time in two years.
"Hello Mrs Hudson," said Sherlock in his kindest voice. Oh how John had missed that voice.
Then Mrs Hudson fainted.
Both boys rushed towards her to catch her before she hit the ground. They positioned her on the couch, waiting for her return to consciousness.
And then they just waited some more. The two friends who had not seen each other for two years and who felt like it had been merely a day.
Life was right again.
Sherlock
Sherlock had of course expected Mrs Hudson to faint and as a result rushed forward with John to catch her and to carry her to the couch. And then, even though there were many things left to say to one another, the two friends sat down on the chairs in silence.
Both of them were happy and both of them feeling that something had been set right this day.