Fancy Seeing You Again
aka - My Obligatory "Sherlock Returns to Baker Street" fic

By Tenshi-Chan

Edited so the younger readers don't accidentally see what they shouldn't. Please visit my site for the unedited version.

How long had it been since he walked this route? It didn't matter, really. Even one day away had been Hell. After the funeral, he'd quickly made one last stop to Baker Street and then had to stay away. Too many people knew his face. Too many echoes of laughter he'd shared, music they'd played, and other sounds they had made filled his head.

Now, however, it was all over. The web had been demolished down to the very last strand, and he was free to return to the one person who meant everything to him.

John Watson.

As Sherlock approached the building that had been his home, he feared rejection from the man he had sacrificed just about everything to keep safe. He gazed at the door and wondered if he would even be welcome in the building at all. Mrs. Hudson had always treated him like a long-lost son, and he had allowed her to grieve him. He didn't know how long he was standing there, but he finally clenched his fist and extended his index finger. Before he could press the button that would ring the buzzer, the voice of an angel spoke behind him.

"Well? Are you going to stand there all day, or are you coming in?"

Sherlock spun and he drank in the sight before him. To anyone else, John Watson would appear to be someone of average appearance. To Sherlock, however, John Watson was the most gorgeous man in the world. He opened his mouth, but two fingers touched his lips.

John was looking at him critically, with a doctor's practiced eye. "Bath, first aid, food, rest, and then explanation. You look like you're about to collapse."

Of all the reactions he'd been expecting, this was far from it. John did have a point, however. For an unknown amount of time, Sherlock had run on the bare minimum in an effort to accomplish his goals. Now, only sheer willpower was keeping him going. He allowed the numbness to consume him as John looked after his physical needs. Before he knew what was happening, he was lying in their bed and allowing sleep to claim him. When John moved away, he reached out weakly to stop him. "Stay?"

That reassuring hand stroked his hair. "I'm just popping downstairs to tell Mrs. Hudson that you're alive, but resting. Then I'll be right back, I promise." John's lips kissed his temple. "Don't think you're off the hook. I'm quite cross with you, but I still love you. Nothing will change that."

Then John was walking away, but John had promised to return. That was good enough for Sherlock, and he closed his eyes. For the first time in too long, he relaxed. As sleep claimed him, he smiled as the feeling of being loved filled him.

As John walked downstairs, he fought the urge to shout out his joy. The man he loved was paler, thinner, and looked as if he'd been in quite a few physical altercations, but the only thing that really mattered was that Sherlock was alive and home. Oh they would have words, later, but John had no doubt that Sherlock felt he'd had a damn good reason for doing what he had done.

He smiled as he knocked on Mrs. Hudson's door.

She answered and smiled warmly. "What brings you down here?" She held up a finger. "Mind you, if you've dropped something, you'll have to clean it up. I'm not your house keeper." Then she blinked and regarded him. "There's something different about you, dear. You look as if nothing could ruin your day. What has you all happy?"

John chuckled. "Oh I doubt you'd believe me if I told you."

She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. "You're not up to any mischief, are you?"

John shook his head. "No. Sit down." He helped her settle onto her sofa. "Right. I'll make this quick and I swear that I'm not lying or imagining things." He pulled out the scarf he had brought down as proof. "Guess who came home today."

For a moment, Mrs. Hudson looked at the scarf in confusion. Then she took it gingerly. "I haven't seen this scarf since ..." Her eyes filled with tears as she clutched it. "Where is he?"

John touched her shoulder when she made a move to get up. "He's resting right now. Knowing how he works, he's probably pushed himself beyond his limits. Once I have an explanation out of him, I promise I'll let you up there so you can have your turn."

The older woman sobbed as she hugged the scarf. "You were right. I thought you were just spouting wishful thinking when you told me he couldn't be dead, but you were right." The she shook the defenseless length of wool. "Oh that boy better have a good reason for putting us through this!"

"I agree. Now I'm heading back upstairs. I'll probably see you in the morning." He turned and walked back upstairs. When he got to their room, he quickly stripped off his outer clothing and eased himself into bed.

Sherlock made a sleepy objection to being disturbed, but curled up close as soon as John was settled.

John stayed awake for a while, talking softly to the man sleeping in his arms while stroking his hair in a soothing manner. He vowed that he would not show anger. Somehow, he knew Sherlock needed him calm. He smiled and fell asleep to the soothing lullaby of Sherlock's breathing.

It was glorious waking up feeling safe, and Sherlock wanted to relish it for as long as possible. He was warm and comfortable and he could almost fool himself that everything that had happened had been a horrible nightmare.

John then broke that illusion. "Come on. I know you're awake."

With a great deal of regret, Sherlock opened his eyes. He and John looked at each other a moment before he spoke up. "You don't seem surprised that I'm alive."

John sighed and shook his head. "Not the first thing you should have said, but okay." He got out of bed and put his dressing gown on. "Right, then. Into the lounge where you can relax on the sofa and we can talk. Although I'll try to avoid it, we might have an argument."

Sherlock winced as he got out of bed. Now that he was safe at home, a million aches and pains he had been ignoring made themselves known.

John was beside him in a moment. "I'll fix you some tea and get you a paracetamol." His hands cupped Sherlock's face. "I can't promise you that I won't shout at you for what you did because, God knows, I'm furious that you did it, but I can promise you that I am absolutely ecstatic that you're home."

Sherlock closed his eyes as John pulled his head down so they could have a quick, gentle kiss. Sherlock opened his eyes again and felt them stinging. "I am sorry."

John smiled sadly at him. "I know you are, and I actually forgave you as soon as I pieced it together. I may be an idiot, but I'm not entirely stupid." He ran his thumb along Sherlock's bottom lip and nodded. "Come on."

Sherlock allowed John to lead him into the lounge where he found himself settled on the sofa with a cup of tea in one hand and the promised paracetamol in the other. He took the painkillers and a good swallow of tea as John sat down. John sat across from him, patient, not asking anything and not rushing him. He appreciated that. It gave him time to gather up his scattered wits. "I suppose I should start with that text." From there, he explained everything. Moriarty's plans, the snipers, the threats. Through it all, Sherlock clutched his mug of swiftly cooling tea and John remained silent. It was not the stony silence he had dreaded, but a thoughtful one that said John was listening.

He paused a moment before explaining about his jump. "Can I just ... skip this bit, please?" The memory of the pain in John's voice made him put his mug down and reach for the man who held his heart. John was by him without hesitation, holding him lovingly.

"Sorry, but no. It'll haunt us forever if you don't explain, and it'll hamper your ability to work."

Sherlock swallowed and nodded. "I didn't want to hurt you, John, but it was either hurt you or watch you die for real. If that had happened, then my leap would not have been faked."

"And I had to be there because I'm your blogger and your lover. Who better to witness and record it? Who would have been more believable? I am a horrible liar, and I would have let it slip somehow." John chuckled sadly. "I had to be kept in the dark."

Sherlock nodded then looked into John's eyes. "How did you find out that I wasn't dead?"

John's chuckle was warmer. "It was when I came back to the flat, fully intending to pack up my things. I went into the bedroom and noticed that the collar I had worn the night we first kissed was not in its box. For a few days, I thought I must have taken it out myself and forgotten about it, but then things started to piece themselves together in my mind."

Sherlock felt himself relax a little. "Tell me."

John maneuvered them so Sherlock's head was resting in John's lap. "Right, first off ... the instant I said I was a doctor and your friend, the crowd should have cleared, not condensed. Second, I barely managed to try and get a pulse before you were whisked away. Third, as your lover, I should have been allowed a final look to say good bye. And lastly ... I spotted a shadowy figure as I turned to leave the graveyard. Once I pieced all of that together, I started trying to find ways that you could have survived and then make it look as if you were dead."

Sherlock smiled a little. "That ... is quite brilliant, John. How did you figure it out?"

That got a genuine laugh out of John. "That was actually quite easy. I looked things up on the internet, went to the library, and interrogated Molly over a cup of coffee." The two of them chuckled before John sobered. "I'm guessing that, since you're home, that the danger is over?"

Sherlock nodded. "All of Moriarty's men are dead or incapacitated. Which probably means they're dead. Never can tell with Mycroft." He reached up and grabbed John's hand. "Three weeks ago, you answered the phone and the person on the other end hung up."

John squeezed his hand. "I had a feeling."

"I just needed to hear your voice. I was so tired of it, but I knew I was so close." He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. "God, I've missed you, John. I expected you to be furious with me. I would not have been surprised if you had decked me."

John snorted. "Don't tempt me. I'm just glad you're home. After I figured out you were alive, I knew there had to be a reason why you had to stay away." He tugged on one of Sherlock's curls. "All right, then. I'm going to say this once. Do not ever pull a stunt like that one again. Next time a criminal mastermind appears, we'll face them together. Agreed?" He nodded in satisfaction when Sherlock made a hum of acquiescence. "As it is, you're going to have to face Mrs. Hudson and your mother."

Sherlock groaned softly and brought his free hand to cover his face. "I had to protect you, John. You, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade. Mummy has Mycroft and his people protecting her." He was brought up short by John's growl. "What?"

"Your mother and Mycroft are currently not on speaking terms. When I told her that Mycroft had Moriarty in his custody and let him go, to say that she was not happy with your brother would be a severe understatement." John released Sherlock's hand. "Showing up alive might help things, but I doubt it. Mycroft's actions not only endangered us, but he put the rest of England in danger as well."

Sherlock sighed as John rubbed his temples. "You can do that forever." He closed his eyes. "I'm so tired."

"I don't doubt it. Do you think you could stay awake a while? I could throw some food together so you can eat then let Mrs. Hudson burn your ear a bit." He leaned forward and nuzzled Sherlock's cheek before he whispered in Sherlock's ear. "After that, I don't want you out of my sight. I'm tempted to tie you to the bed while I kiss every inch of you."

Sherlock smiled for the first time in what seemed like ages. "That sounds like a good idea, actually."

Later on, after he'd been slapped gently on the arm and scolded by a tearful Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock found himself on the bed with his arms loosely tied by silk scarves.

John, true to his word, started kissing him. He'd started the session off by a long, deep kiss in which both of them had poured their joy of reunion and sorrow at ever having been separated in the first place. From there, John made a leisurely circular pattern of kisses until he had kissed every available inch of Sherlock's face before moving on to his throat.

As John sucked on his throat, Sherlock realized there was a slight disadvantage to John's plan. With his hands tied, he couldn't reach up and draw John close.

"I missed you." John licked the pulse point on Sherlock's throat. "I am going to spend one minute kissing you for every day we spent apart." He pulled back to smirk down at him. "So, as you can guess, this will take a while." He turned his attention to Sherlock's shoulder.

Sherlock groaned when John got to the inside of his elbow. He wondered if John knew how much a turn-on it was when he took on his 'Captain John Watson' persona. "I expected to be forced to sleep on the sofa, at the very least."

John hummed a little. "Why on Earth would I do something like that? We've already spent too long apart, in my opinion, and not being able to hold you close would only hurt me as well." John sucked gently on Sherlock's left ring finger. An action that never failed to sent a bolt of pure pleasure straight to Sherlock's groin. "Seems a detrimental action to take." He pulled away and caressed Sherlock's collarbone with a single finger. "This is a much more pleasurable way to let you know how this separation affected me." He leaned down and gently nibbled on Sherlock's earlobe before dropping his voice to a husky whisper. "Just so we're perfectly clear. If you ever make a decision that impacts both of us without bringing me into it again, I will not be waiting for you when you return."

Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut as pain lanced through his heart at the knowledge that he could have lost John forever without John's dying. John's lips touching his and drawing back made him open his eyes again.

John shook his head. "You honestly thought that it wouldn't bother me this much. I understand that because I know how that incredibly brilliant mind of yours works. It's one of the very few reasons why I forgave you." He dipped his tongue into Sherlock's navel. "Another reason was that, however bad it was for me, I knew it had to be much worse for you. I had a vast group of people to support me. Who did you have?"

Sherlock shivered when John kissed the inside of his thigh. "My-Mycroft."

"Hmmmmm ... my point exactly. He's not exactly a person one goes to for support." John surprised a snicker out of Sherlock when he licked the one ticklish spot Sherlock had on his hip. "I missed your laugh. I missed laughing with you. I didn't laugh much while you were away. Didn't even smile much when you come right to the point."

Sherlock drew in a shaky breath. He was wrong. This was worse than shouting would have been. John was being so bloody reasonable, but the mental image of this man without one of those tender smiles hurt Sherlock a great deal.

John licked a long line from his calf to his cheek and sipped away Sherlock's forming tears. "Always in hindsight, Sherlock. Someday you'll learn to think what your mentality does to those that love you before you do or say something that hurts us all."

Sherlock swallowed. "You would have tried to stop me."

John snorted and shook his head. "I would have wanted to join you." He tweaked one of Sherlock's nipples and smiled. "Idiot. Don't you think that, together, we could have cleaned up this mess of Moriarty's so much quicker? Think it through, Sherlock. If I had known how to reach you, I would have asked if we could make me 'die' in a similar way." He continued speaking between kisses. "You're my flat mate, best friend and lover. Something that is no secret to anyone who knows us. It would have made perfect sense if I had decided to follow you."

Sherlock found it hard to think with John torturing him so deliciously without touching the one area that desperately yearned for attention. At the last moment before he tugged his hands free, a chime sounded from the phone. Probably the alarm for a timer John had set. John smirked before causing stars to explode in Sherlock's head.

Later, after their breathing returned to normal, John held Sherlock close and kissed him deeply. Then he spent a few minutes sobbing. "I missed you, you stupid lovable git!"

"I am truly sorry, John."

John sighed against him. "I know you are, Sherlock, and I forgive you." He groaned as he shifted. "I'm knackered. Can you sleep here and we'll shower in the morning?"

Sherlock considered it, then he realized he didn't really have the energy to move. "Seems like a sound plan." He somehow managed to find a dry spot for the two of them as John curled up close to him. "Pleasant dreams, John."

John chuckled and pressed another kiss to Sherlock's shoulder. "Yes, I believe they will be."

Sherlock smiled and hummed softly as they fell asleep.

John woke up feeling content and whole again. He shifted and smiled as he gazed at Sherlock's sleeping face. The tall man was still way too thin for John's liking, but the shadows under the consulting detective's eyes weren't as noticable. He supposed he had similar shadows and that he had suffered a similar weight loss. None of that mattered to him now. He and Sherlock had time to heal the aching void that had been made by Serlock's "death". He gave Sherlock a poke. "Come on, sleepy head. Let's get a shower and then I'll make breakfast. We both need a little fattening up."

Sherlock blinked and looked around in confusion until his eyes settled on John and that normally cold expression softened into something warm and welcoming. "You always look perfect to me, John."

John responded to that with a kiss before forcing himself out of bed. He turned and smiled as Sherlock followed him. Even when exhausted, Sherlock moved with a fluid grace that John was sure a cat would envy. The two of them showered together as neither was willing to be out of the other's sight at the moment. They relished in the ability to scrub each other and did no more than trade kisses and caresses.

It was tempting to stay in the shower longer. He enjoyed the simple pleasures that sharing a shower provided, but Sherlock's stomach let out an almost plaintive growl and the two of them laughed. The laughter was louder when John's stomach seemed to echo the desire for food.

"I guess that's us being told." John snorted another laugh and shut the water off.

Sherlock chuckled as they dried themselves off and returned to the bedroom the get pyjamas on. He smiled as John grabbed the waistband of his pants to pull him close. "Don't you have work?"

John sighed. "I left the hospital. I wasn't in a good place between your staged suicide and figuring out that it was, in fact, staged. Lucky for me, your mother likes me. She's been making sure my bills are paid and I have money for food. I was actually out looking for work when you came home. I haven't found anything, but that won't be a problem now that you're back."

Sherlock's smile died. "It might be. As far as everyone is concerned, I'm still a fake."

John gently punched Sherlock's shoulder. "I suppose you haven't been following current events. There was a full investigation and it was proved that Moriarty did, indeed, exist. That he was a criminal mastermind, and that you were the only reason that he didn't do more damage than he had. The look on Anderson's face as he was forced to eat crow was priceless." He released his lover and threw his own pyjamas on. "So it probably won't be long before Greg gives you a case."

When they were decent, they left the sanctuary of their bedroom to be brought up short by Mrs. Holmes sitting primly in one of the chairs. She stood up as they entered.

"Mrs. Hudson called me yesterday, John. She said that the two of you probably didn't want to be disturbed at the time. I agreed, and came first thing today so I could see for myself." She approached Sherlock, looked him over from head to toe, then slapped his face once.

After a shocked silence, Sherlock brought his hand up to touch his cheek.

Mrs. Holmes' eyes filled with tears as she gazed at John. "I know you probably didn't tell him, nor ever will, so I'll do it for you."

When Sherlock looked to him in confusion, John sighed and turned away.

"Mummy?" Sherlock sounded lost.

Emily Holmes drew in a deep breath and spoke in a dangerously low tone. "The day after your funeral ..." She sobbed a little before gathering her wits and starting again. "The day after your funeral, I came here to find him sitting on that sofa, wearing your dressing gown, your violin in one hand and his loaded gun in the other. The gun was pointed at his head with the safety off. I dread to think what he would have done if I hadn't gotten here when I had."

John felt Sherlock's hand on his shoulder and turned to face his horrified lover. He gave Sherlock a look filled with the sadness he had felt. "Like I said, Sherlock. You're my flat mate, my best friend and my lover. It would have made perfect sense if I were to follow you." He grabbed Sherlock as the taller man stumbled and helped him into a chair. He looked at Mrs. Holmes and shook his head. "I didn't want to hurt him like this, Mum. It's why I didn't tell him in the first place." He had taken to calling her 'Mum' when she had persuaded him to stay with her while he was in danger of harming himself.

Emily looked unrepentant. "I dislike causing pain, too, my dear boy. Sherlock went too far, and he needed to know just what his lack of foresight might have caused." She looked at Sherlock and she became the mother again as she approached Sherlock. "I have never had to strike you before, Sherlock. I had hoped that it would never happen, but this was too much. It was borderline hateful."

Sherlock nodded and John could see tears dripping down Sherlock's cheeks. "I'm sorry, Mummy. I just wanted to keep John safe. I thought he'd see the message I left for him."

Mrs. Holmes gave John a questioning look, to which John responded with a small shrug. He could feel his ears turning pink. "The collar I was wearing to the fancy dress party the night Sherlock and I first kissed. I keep it in a locked box under the bed so it's kept safe. Only Sherlock and I have keys for it. He took it out and left it on the dresser. Everything I had was in the lounge, and I slept on the sofa because I couldn't bear sleeping in the bed alone, so I didn't see it until I came to pack everything."

Sherlock was pale and shaking, so John walked over to embrace him. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I wasn't going to say anything unless you asked me." He rubbed Sherlock's back as the other man hugged him fiercely. "We'll get over this. One day, this horrible time will just be a very unpleasant memory that we will reflect upon. We'll never laugh about it, though."

Sherlock made choking sounds a few times before he finally managed to speak. "Never again, John. I'll never do it again."

John held Sherlock close and smiled when Emily embraced Sherlock from behind. The time for tears was over. It was now time to heal and rebuild.

End of "Fancy Seeing You Again"

Author's Notes: Okay. This is not the last of the "Fancy" Series. I do have a few in the works. I am open to ideas. Send a story idea, along with a title starting with "Fancy", and I might just use it. Proper Credit will be given.

On another note: I am looking for fanart for my website. All I have, so far, is a very pitiful rendition of Jack and Ianto that I did in paint just to have something on the page. If you have something, please feel free to send it to me. My email is on my profile page. I promise to give full credit using whatever information you wish me to provide.