Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. All rights to Sherlock belong to BBC\
Dr. John Watson had sat alone in the same chair, just staring out the window, for quite a while. He, ridden with grief from the loss of his best friend and flatmate, had decided to lock himself up in 221B for possibly days on end, sometimes going days without food or sleep, his dreams haunted with nightmares of the fall. From the fist night without Sherlock, he has had the same horrible dream, over and over again.
He was standing in a pitch black room, Sherlock's voice rang out " I owe you so much…" some of the blackness cleared, revealing a bloody, lifeless, Sherlock Holmes. A cold, heartless laugh surrounded John, He knew that laugh. That laugh belonged to the one and only Sebastian Moran.
The first night he was forced to witness this horrible scene, and everyday since, he had woken up screaming. In all his days of being in the military, he had never felt as much sadness and emptiness as he had felt as he watched his best friend jump to his death. John felt a lone tear escape from his eye and trail down his cheek at the memory.
It was then, and only then, that he heard a knock at the door.
At first, he was weary to open the door. No one visited him anymore, except for an occasional visit from Mrs. Hudson, and she was away on Christmas vacation. Christmas, A small part of his brain remembered It was Christmas eve. He approached the door with lagging steps, his limp had returned after… John's eyes widened when, immediately after opening the door, he was engulfed in a hug. " What…Who….?" The mysterious person pulled away, and looked down at John. The pair of silvery blue eyes John's met were so warm… so apologetic… so…. so…. Familiar. Oh how many times he would see those eyes narrowed in concentration during a case, or looking at John with concern when he had his nightmares…. He knew the soft, dark brown curls that fell around the worn face…. He knew him. "Sh… Sherlock? B…but… your dead….. How...?" He stuttered, confusion and disbelief etched his features. At the moment the last question left his lips, he was swept into another hug. "John…..Oh John, I'm sorry… I'm so so sorry…. I was doing it to protect you…. He's gone now John… he's gone…." The taller man whispered. He clung to John as if he were his only lifeline to the world. John pulled away, anger boiling his blood. He has abandoned him, had left him to clean up the mess. But when john locked eyes with Sherlock once more, His anger melted away into a feeling of affection. "John-"The man began again but he was interrupted by John's lips colliding with his own. "There is no need to say 'im sorry.'" Was all John said after the kiss, for that was all he had time for, until Sherlock resumed the moment.
A/N: Whoa! That took me a rather long time to finish, around two hours actually. I hope you like it, its my first one –shot so please no flames.
R and R please :D