He didn't know how he did it. Although, honestly speaking, John didn't understand how he could do such normal, everyday tasks so mindlessly. Christmas, however, was an entirely different matter. The last Christmas had been spent with friends and it seemed much further than a year since then. This year, John was alone at the Baker Street flat. Mrs. Hudson was there, but John stayed up in his room, separated from everyone and everything that would remind him. The flat already reminded him too much of the old times, but John couldn't leave. He couldn't afford anything nice on an army pension and Mycroft had made the other half of the payments so John could continue to live there. Mrs. Hudson had been up earlier to wish John a Merry Christmas and give him a present (a jumper) then she left to make dinner. John had been invited, of course, but he didn't feel like talking or interacting with other people. Memories f other previous Christmas kept popping up, forcing John to think about Sherlock. It had been seven months since his suicide and John still refused to believe anything Sherlock had said that day. John knew he'd lied about being a fake.
Once Lestrade and the rest of Scotland Yard had arrived, John refused to talk to them. Because of them, Sherlock was dead. They all believed the lie, and John couldn't forgive that. Lestrade had only visited Baker Street once afterwards and that had been to deliver Sherlock's phone. He hadn't even bothered to attend the funeral. John sighed from his armchair in the living room of the flat. The cheery festivities of the day paled under his mood. The holiday seemed to lack without Sherlock making some sort of remark. The year before he'd embarrassed himself and Molly. John missed that, Sherlock making deductions to solve a case. Any case reported in the paper, he himself tried to solve using Sherlock's methods. However, he could never find anything out of the ordinary, proving how ordinary he was and how extraordinary Sherlock was. Dozens of sheets of paper littered the flat with possible suspects, motives or missing details he thought was important. Mrs. Hudson had complained about the mess, but John told her not to worry about it. Below, he could hear Mrs. Hudson's guests talking and laughing. She'd told John that he was welcome to join them, but everyone who'd believed the lie, Lestrade, Mycroft, Molly, and others would be there. He hadn't spoken to any of them in months and while Christmas was a time of peace and good will to all, he didn't want to have to say anything to them if he didn't want to. Or anything he'd regret.
That's what his real reason was. He didn't want anyone to end up hating him because of something he said and in a moment of pride, couldn't apologize. That was his major reason for staying alone. He took a sip of his drink, toasting himself a Merry Christmas. Down below, he heard an eerie silence. The usually loud gathering had lowered in volume. He took a longer swig, waiting for the alcohol to take the desired effect. In the lingering silence, he could hear the steps creaking as someone made their way upstairs, stopping outside 221B to knock. John let out a sigh. Mrs. Hudson wasn't one to leave John alone. It was Christmas and he knew she'd eventually persuade him to go down there, but he just wanted to be alone.
"Mrs. Hudson, I told you before I just want to be left alo-" The words died on his lips as he opened the door to the flat. Standing in front of him was not Mrs. Hudson. It was Sherlock Holmes.
"Hello John. Merry Christmas." John just stared at him, wrestling between wanting to punch him and wanting to give him a hug. He did neither. The next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground. Sherlock was kneeling next to him on the ground , a look of confusion on his face. John slowly sat up and without saying a word, punched him in the face. "I deserved that." John blinked the newly forming tears in his eyes away and gave Sherlock a hug.
"Thanks for coming back."
"I had to." John looked at him in confusion. "I'd be lost without my blogger."
I hope you liked it! Wow, can't believe this is my third and last Sherlock fic of the year! Hopefully 2013 will bring more time for me to write my other fics (yes, more are forthcoming. Please R&R I appreciate any advice or any suggestions you might want to give. Please note that I am new at this so don't be too hurtful. I appreciate any advice so please, don't hesitate to help me, one author to another. See you nesy year!