It was a cold morning in London. John was lying on the bed, facing the window. It has been 3 years since. 3 long, dreadful years. John looked out of the window. Cars drove through the streets. People walked on the sidewalks. Everybody looked so happy. But not John. Ever since Sherlock died, John wasn't himself. He was a shadow of himself. He hasn't smiled for the last 3 years. John Watson was truly heartbroken. It was a rare event when John made something else than tea. Mrs. Hudson tried to cheer him up every now and then, by taking him to a nice restaurant. It never cheered him up. If it did something, it was to remind him of Sherlock. John was also growing a beard. Not because he wanted to, but because he was far too lazy to shave every morning. Every now and then Mrs. Hudson forced him to shave, but it didn't take long before the beard came back.
John heard a knock on the door of his room."Come in Mrs. Hudson." He said, automatically assuming that.
The door opened silently, as someone walked through it. It wasn't Mrs. Hudson. Not at all.
The person who came into the room stroked John shoulder gently. "3 years. 3 long years without him. You know, Mrs. Hudson, the only reason I didn't killed myself right after him was that you never let me go through with it. But it is not the same without him." The person climbed into John's bed, and his hands hugged John from behind. He hugged John closely, wanting to stay like this forever.
"I really want him to come back. Sometimes I just sit there and wait for him to burst in, with the spark in his big, deep blue eyes. I want him to come back. I want to hear his violin again. But with every day that passes, I believe less than before." Tears went down John's cheeks. One hand of the person that hugged him moved to John's face and cleaned up his tears. The person head was on John's shoulder, and his cheek pressed against John's.
"If he will ever come back, I know exactly what am I going to say to him. I will tell him how mad I am; how he left me alone for 3 years; how much I missed him." The person hugged John even tighter, and whispered in his ear. "I missed you too John." John turned around. "Sherlock?" he said in surprise. Sherlock smiled and kissed John, as he still hugged him tightly. Sherlock had those soft, tender lips. For a guy who never kissed someone, he was quite a good kisser. Slowly, Sherlock pulled his lips away from John's. He looked in John's blue-green eyes, and kissed him again. John's mind just forgot of everything he wanted to say to Sherlock if he would come back. He just kissed him and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him to a tight hug. John was thrilled. He felt the soft cloth of Sherlock scarf. He felt the scent of roses coming from his shirt. After they finished that very long kiss, John smoothly slipped down, and Sherlock's arm was still wrapped around his shoulder. His head was on Sherlock shoulder. They stayed like that for hours, until John's phone rang.
John leant over to reach his phone, but Sherlock pulled him back. "Sherlock. I need to answer the phone."
"No. we are cuddling."
"It might be important."
"What could be so important right now?"
"I might know, if I could just reach my phone!"
"Fine."
John leaned over Sherlock, trying to reach his phone. Sherlock quite enjoyed that.
"Hello?"
"John Hamish Watson, where the bloody hell are you?! You were supposed to be here about 2 hours ago!"
"I am so sorry, Lestrade. Something important happed, and I totally forgot. But I will make up for it, I swear."
"John, I know that it has been 3 years now, but you must move on. You can't do that kind of stuff. I want you here in 10 minutes." Lestrade hung up the phone.
John threw the phone beside him. He sat down on the bed. Sherlock hand stroked his back.
"Was that important?"
"Yes. It was Lestrade. He wants me at the crime scene in 10 minutes."
John pulled himself out of the bed, but Sherlock grabbed him back in.
"Sherlock?"
"What?"
"I really need to get up."
"So?"
"He will kill me if I would be late. And we need to get up."
"We?"
"Yes. You are defiantly coming with me."
John got up, and Sherlock jumped on him, wrapping his arms around John, as he hugged him tightly from behind.
"Sherlock, let go of me."
"No."
"But I need to get dressed."
"Fine. But afterwards I am not intending to let go of you."
Sherlock let go, cursing Lestrade for calling. He watched John put on a blue T-shirt. On top of it was his favorite jumper- the blue one with the green diamonds pattern. John put on his jeans, and wore his shoes.
He walked over to the bed, and picked up his phone. "Are you ready?" he asked. Sherlock smiled, and leant over to kiss John.