1989
"Sherlock?" a young man with steel grey eyes looked up from his microscope. "Hm?" "Take a look, see what I found?" a young man's voice said as he pushed his microscope towards Sherlock. Sherlock walked over to him, a shorter man with dark hair and eyes and looked into his microscope. "Hm" he uttered again. "What do you think?" Sherlock looked up and flashed a smile. "I think it's brilliant" "really?" "Yes. I wouldn't say so otherwise" his friend smiled, as Sherlock returned to his own microscope. "What are you going to do with it, Jim?" he asked without looking up from his work. "it's not like I'm going to bomb anything" Jim remarked sarcastically. Sherlock smirked, but did not look up to see Jim's facial expression.
1995
Sherlock often wondered what happened to Jim. Jim had used to be his lab partner, companion, and friend even. Sherlock did not see himself as a man comfortable with a lot of friends, but sometimes, the loneliness became too much, even to him. Jim had been a clever man, and the two of them, at the end of school, they wanted to do different things, and therefore, logically, went different ways. He had not thought much of it while it happened - he had assumed that they would continue to see each other; Jim was a friend, a confined, one who would return, but years had passed and soon their friendship had ended completely.
2001
It was days like these Sherlock wondered what Jim was doing. A grey clouded, heavy day with moist in the air and no colours to light up the world. He had not heard from his friend, and he wondered if he thought of him. The tall, dark haired man quickly dismissed the thought and remembered that they were no longer friends for a reason. The problem was; Sherlock - despite his intelligence, had no idea what the reason was.
2005
A pair of steel grey eyes looked up from a pile of paperwork. Why had he volunteered helping out the greying policeman again? He wanted to help now. He had done a lot of right and a lot of wrong, and now was the time for his observation skills to benefit someone else. London should be big enough for now, he reckoned. Lestrade would let him help with cases and take Sherlock with him to the crime scenes, and Sherlock would help. He had done a few cases by himself, and he felt that he could do this.
2010
In all of Sherlock's life, Jim had never been anyone else than "Jim". When he heard the cabbie yell "Moriarty" before he died, he did not know how to react. He was shocked, and yet not.
Before talking to John, he decided not to tell John anything, pretending not to know Moriarty, the man behind the crime, the guilty. How could he be guilty of killing people?
Systematic killing, making it look like suicides, making another man do the work. Jim had been different. Right?
The hardest parts were keeping the truths from John and keeping Jim from hurting John, or anyone else, of course.
Present day
Jim was dead. John thought Sherlock was dead.
So much death.
Death had never bothered Sherlock much. Not until recently. Not until John was in danger.
He had not thought Jim was going to die either. Not until he had pulled the trigger had he for one second thought he was going to die.
He was the reason Jim died.
How could he return knowing he killed his old best, and only friend, and how could he return to his current only friend? Would he be his friend again?
Only Sherlock himself knew exactly just how much he needed one.
AN: Thank you for reading - I really hope you liked it. Criticism and comments are very welcome.