"I need to. Please Mycroft? He won't even know that I'm there, I'll wear the outfit I showed you. You can't have honestly thought it would be for any other reason? I suits the flat perfectly!"
"Sherlock, you set the rules up yourself. You know you shouldn-"
"Damn the rules Mycroft, when have I ever played by the rules?"
"If you get caught, everything you've been working for these past months will be for nothing. You've not completed what you set out to do."
"I won't get caught, and I'm almost there."
The following hour after that particular conversation, Sherlock found himself in a car across from 221B. Steadying his breathing, he put on his suit, placing a coat over it in order to not draw suspision from passers-by.
The past eleven months had been spent tracking down all of Moriarty's associates and anyone likely to bring harm to the group of people that somehow had wriggled their way into his heart to become his friends. He had used his death not only to save his dear friends John, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade, but also force his targets into a false sense of security. He couldn't say that he regretted what he did, and what he continued to do, but he had almost driven himself mad with doubts about the well-being of his friends. Thus, he was led to where he is now, in a car across from his old flat, getting ready to sneak in and check on his favourite blogger.
Getting in was a simple matter of waiting for Mrs Hudson to go for her weekly shop, knowing she always left the door unlocked because if a parcel arrived, she wanted it placed inside the door instead of outside. He only had to wait half an hour for his opportunity.
Getting into 221B was slightly harder, John's schedule had become erratic, his movements more spontaneous than when Sherlock had been 'alive'. But after determining that no sound was being made and that it was safe to move forward, he shook off his coat and slowly made his way to the best point for his outfit to work. Working off the assumption that John still made himself a cup of tea at noon, like he used to, Sherlock positioned himself and placed the last article of clothing on.
As he covered his head with the slip of fabric, Sherlock seemingly disappeared into the wall and waited for 9 minutes before he heard footsteps. Sherlock held his breath as John walked past him to the kitchen, emerging some time later with his predicted cup of tea.
John looked horrible, even after all this time.
The biggest shock of all however, was that John didn't make his way upstairs, but across the landing to Sherlock's old room.
With a fond smile, Sherlock removed the fabric over his head, moving to place a present on the coffee table. He may have told Mycroft that he was simply seeing his old friend, but Sherlock felt that it wasn't enough to merely see, he would see this as an experiment, a peace offering before John knew that one needed to be made.
Quickly, Sherlock made his way out of 221B, picking up his coat on the way, and casually making his way back to the car. Smiling out at 221B one more time before the driver took him back to his brother's house.
He would continue his previous work, content in the knowledge that though John may still be grieving, he may have instilled just a little bit of hope in his old friend.
Back at 221B Baker Street, John came out of his ex-flatmate's old room to put his empty cup in the sink and perhaps make something for lunch.
Walking through the living room, he paused and looked back at the coffee table. Sitting there innocently, as if they'd been there the whole time, was a bag of Jam Donuts.
Picking the bag up and looking in, John found that they were still hot, after calling downstairs for Mrs Hudson and finding her gone, John sat on the couch staring at the bag as if waiting for it to tell him who left them. John knew it was silly, but he couldn't help feeling that they were from his late flatmate and best friend. He smiled and took the bag with him into his room, sending off a text to a number he hadn't used for eight months.
I got a bag of donuts today, you wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you? - JW
Of course, he didn't get a reply, but whereas after the first three months of his flatmates death, this fact saddened him, now he only felt a faint amusement. 'Even gone you manage to mystify me', and for the first time in almost a year, he felt hope.
This Work Belongs To: Urban Camouflage