John woke up through the night tremors for the eighteenth time since his best friend's suicide. His therapist had told him that this was all very common and he shouldn't be worried, but he could't help it, he was sure it wasn't just the tremors keeping him awake, there was something else.
He pushed his duvet aside and sat up on the bed for a few minutes until he decided he could really use a cold glass of water. He pushed himself from the bed - it was a struggle to do even the simplest of tasks nowadays - and headed for the kitchen. As he approached his bedroom door there was a sound from the far corner of the room, almost as if someone had just moved a step back. Worrying incase there was someone in the room with him, he flicked the light switch and the bulb shone brightly, making dark spots appear in his eyes as they adjusted to the light. He glanced to the corner where he had been sure he had heard something come from, but there was nothing there.
"I'm going insane" he muttered to himself as he switched the light off once more.
The kitchen floor felt cold under his bare feet. He was still half expecting to see Sherlock hunched over some experiment at the kitchen worktop. He would never see that again. With a deep sigh he continued to walk towards the sink where he pulled out a dirty glass and filled it with water. As he walked away he could feel his eyes closing together from lack of sleep and decided he would try and fall asleep once more. That was when he saw something move in his bedroom. He couldn't make out exactly what it was, but he was almost sure it was a person. Unsure what to do he half walked half ran towards the door, forgetting about the ice cold glass in his hand.
He flicked on the light and a tall figure froze in the centre of the room.
"Get out of my flat!" John yelled at the figure and without thinking threw his glass of water at the figure.
The figure turned around and miraculously caught the glass with his left hand. There was only one person John knew that could do something like that. John's eyes began tearing up.
"Sh-Sherlock?" The name escaped his mouth in a shaky voice.
"Hello, John" the man said, a smile appearing across his face.
Minutes passed with John just staring at his best friend awe-stricken, hesitant as to whether this was real or not. Sherlock took a step towards him, raising his hand at him.
"I'm here, John. I'm sorry." Tears began filling his eyes. "I'm so sorry John, I should have come to you earlier. I'm sorry I made you believe that I was gone. I'm sorry."
John took a step towards Sherlock until they were just inches apart and placed his hand on his face, just to be sure that he was really here, that he wasn't dreaming.
"You're here" he smiled, tilting his head a little, and he took his hand away from his face.
"You bastard!" John threw a punch directly at Sherlock's face.
Sherlock stepped back in shock, blinking twice as blood dripped from his nose. "Okay I probably deserved that."
"You think?!" John yelled.
"I said I was sorry!"
"Sorry's not good enough!"
"If it helps, I was lost without you."
"At least you bloody knew I was alive!"
There was a look of genuine sadness in Sherlock's eyes as John said those words. John took in a deep breath and shifted his weight a little as he tried to stay angry at Sherlock. Sherlock moved towards him once more and he thought he was about to crack him in the nose, but instead he put his arms around John and hugged him tightly. John was a little surprised at his reaction but he returned the hug and wrapped his arms around Sherlock. John felt something wet drip on his head and he could hear Sherlock's sobs.
"I've missed you" Sherlock whimpered.
John could feel his tears forming too and he buried his head into Sherlock's chest, soaking his tight fitting purple shirt.
"Don't leave me again" he sobbed.
John felt Sherlock's jaw tighten against his head and he pulled back from the hug, keeping Sherlock at arms length.
"What?"
"I have to."
"You have to what?"
"I have to leave you again."
"What? No!"
"I'm sorry."
"No!"
"I have to, John."
"Why?"
"I can't risk anyone else knowing I'm alive, you weren't even supposed to find out."
"I don't understand."
"Of course you wouldn't." The corner of Sherlock's mouth turned up into a slight smile.
"I was watching over you, John. I was making sure nothing bad happened to you. You shouldn't have caught me, I was careless and for that I am sorry."
John stared at Sherlock with frustration, anguish and confusion in his eyes.
"Why can't you stay, Sherlock? Why can't you stay and solve crimes and leave body parts in the fridge and shoot holes in the wall and drive me insane." John was crying again.
There was a look of pain in Sherlock's face, he didn't want to do this to his best friend.
"I can't risk anyone else knowing I'm alive, John, it's too soon."
"It's too soon for what?"
"I can't tell you."
Sherlock hugged John once more and headed towards the window. Opening it, he placed his leg up on the window ledge and grabbed the top of the window with his hand. Before jumping out he turned to John again who was now sitting on the floor crying.
"By the way" he said, John looked up "that was a lovely speech you made."
"What speech?"
"The one at my grave."
"How did you-" John began but before he could finish Sherlock was gone.
John got up and ran to the window, hoping to catch Sherlock and see where he was running off to, but it was too late, Sherlock had vanished almost as if he was never here at all.
He shut the window and headed back to his bed, wrapping himself up in his duvet and going to sleep with the hope that he would one day see Sherlock Holmes again.