Hi everyone! This is my first fanfic, ever, so please review! This is what I think will happen when Sherlock Returns. I am thinking of writing this same story but through Sherlock's eyes. It depends on how well this one goes over. Thanks so much! Please enjoy!
John sighed as he looked up the stairs. He started to slowly limp up them, wanting to get home after a long days work. As he climbed the stairs, he suddenly heard a violin start to play. "Sherlock must be practicing again" he thought to himself. When he got up the stairs, he suddenly remembered that his best friend, Sherlock Holmes, had died three years ago. He slowly unlocked the door, thoughts racing in his head. John got his gun ready and slowly pushed the door open.
The first thing he noticed was Sherlock's chair was now facing the window and someone was sitting in it. John couldn't see the mans face, but he could see a mess of brown curls that looked so, so familiar. He was playing the saddest song John had ever heard. "Could it be?" John thought to himself. "No. Impossible." he decided. "Who are you?" John asked. As the man turned around, John's breath caught in his throat. He saw the high cheekbones and icy blue eyes first. "How?" John whispered. "Hi John" Sherlock replied. As it settled in that it was indeed Sherlock, John felt a rush of anger. He slowly walked over to Sherlock not taking his eyes off him. He was worried that if he did, Sherlock might disappear. He could tell that Sherlock was waiting for his reaction. When he was close to Sherlock he balled up his fist in his pocket, than he proceeded to try to break the consulting detective's nose.
"Three years! Three years Sherlock! Why?!" John shouted. For a second John could see guilt pass through the detective's eyes before he hid it. "I had to" Sherlock whispered. "They would have killed you, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade!" John heard the desperation in Sherlock's voice. He then remembered Sherlock's hurt nose. "Sit down" he quietly ordered Sherlock. For once Sherlock obeyed. "Stay there while I go get my medical bag. It's upstairs. Don't move." John ordered. He ran upstairs and grabbed the kit. He sat on his bed a moment, making sure he was awake. As an after thought, he noticed the limp went away. "Five minuets and Sherlock is already helping." he thought, smiling. When he got downstairs, Sherlock was right where John left him. The men were both silent as John fixed Sherlock up. "Sorry bout that." he mumbled. "It's fine. I understand." Sherlock replied with a quick smile.
When that was done, John got up to make some tea. "It feels like he was never gone." John thought. This thought made him smile uncontrollably. When he walked into the living room, Sherlock was playing his violin again. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "You okay dear? I heard some screaming. I brought tea and biscuits!" Mrs. Hudson said cheerfully. John and Sherlock shared a nervous glance as Mrs. Hudson opened the door. "John de" she paused midsentence and dropped the tray she was carrying. "Sher, Sher, Sherlock?" the poor old lady whispered. "Hi Mrs. Hudson" Sherlock said quietly as he gracefully got up and hugged the old lady. "I knew it!" she exclaimed and John didn't try to hold back his laugh. "Don't cry Mrs. Hudson" Sherlock said. "Sorry dear" Mrs. Hudson said quietly. "You just surprised me". "Yes, he's good at that" John said, almost to himself. "Let's get you cleaned up, ok Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock asked. "Oh my!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed. "I made a mess! Let me run downstairs and get a rag". John and Sherlock said 'No, let us" at the same time. Smiling, John got to work.
