Sherlock stepped out of the cab. It had been three years since he had last stood in front of Baker Street. Three years since he had last seen John. He had missed his blogger. Undoubtedly John would have moved on but Sherlock still felt that the ex-army doctor should be the first to know of his return. He knew that John would hate him for what he had done, and he was expecting to have a black eye and a bloody nose by the time the night was out. But even though his only friend would probably hate him for the rest of his life, it was worth it because at least John, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade were alive.
Sherlock knocked on the door; knowing Mrs. Hudson would answer he prepared his explanation. The door opened and it was indeed Mrs. Hudson who appeared from behind it. She gasped.
"Hello Mrs. Hudson," said Sherlock.
"Oh, Sherlock! You're alive," she said.
"Yes I am, and I am so sorry for what I put you through."
"I suppose you want to see John then."
"Yes."
Mrs. Hudson stepped out of the doorway and Sherlock walked inside. He walked to the stairs and then hesitated as he saw a pair of feet behind the door of 221B. John was listening in. He looked at Mrs. Hudson.
"Go on then," she said
"I can't," he replied, "John will never forgive me, not after what I put him through. When I was on that rooftop with Moriarty he told me that there were assassins ready to kill you John and Lestrade if I didn't jump. I had to fake my own death, it was the only way. I have spent the past three years hunting down Moriarty's web and dismantling it. I am truly sorry for what I have done." The door to 221B opened. John stepped out and limped down the stairs and walked up to Sherlock, who braced himself for a punch. John put his hand on the consulting detective's shoulder.
"Welcome back to life, Sherlock Holmes," he said.