Watson didn't know why he kept coming home to 221b Baker street. It felt haunted by Sherlock's absence. Any minute Holmes should walk in. But he didn't. He never would. It'd been a month since his death but Watson still waited up for his friend every night without fail. Part of him hoped that Sherlock's apparent suicide was an elaborate trick, the other part of him was afraid to go to sleep for fear of more nightmares. His imagination had been petrifyingly creative as of late.
John could feel himself drifting off again, he'd been avoiding sleep for the past few days and the caffeine was starting to wear off. He pushed his dinner to one side not wanting to wake up with his head buried in a plate of mash. Things always felt worst at dinnertime. He was at work the rest of the day. John rubbed his eyes wearily and started to sink forwards onto the table. His ringtone sounded loudly jolting him out of his half-asleep stupor. He answered it.
"Hello?"
"Hi John. It's Molly." she greeted.
"Haven't heard from you in a while, is everything alright?" asked Watson.
"I need to show you something, meet me at the morgue."
"Okay." John was non-plussed but glad for the distraction. "See you there."
As he rang off he realised she hadn't asked him how he was holding up. Strange. Everyone asked him that. All the same Watson put on his coat, hailed a cab and set off for St Bart's.
Meanwhile Molly was preparing.
"Remember - "
"Yes."
"Don't forget – "
"I won't."
She rolled her eyes impatiently.
"You have to be ready! We don't know how John will react."
"Molly I've practised enough – "
But she was distracted by the noise of a cab parking.
"That'll be him."
As Molly went to the door to let Watson in she wondered why she seemed more nervous than her companion. Maybe he was just better at hiding it. She opened the door.
"Hello." yawned John.
Molly supressed a gasp. The doctor looked so tired and thin as if it had not been grief but an illness that had struck him when Sherlock died.
"Hi. Come in."
John stepped inside to join her and she lead him down the steps into the main section of the morgue.
"So what was it you wanted to show me?" he asked.
"Erm…you might want to sit down."
"Molly I'm a doctor, I've seen plenty of bloody bodies – " he trailed off as he saw Sherlock standing in the middle of the room.
He looked just as he had the night that he died, minus the blood.
"Hello."
"But – you're – how? What?" Watson stuttered gripping the table beside him hard as the shock hit.
"You have questions I'm sure, they'll all be answered in good – "
At this statement John seemed to recover his ability to speak.
"YOU BLOODY WELL BET I'VE GOT QUESTIONS! HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN HOLED UP HERE?"
Molly winced. This was what she'd been afraid of: the doctor's anger.
"I haven't been living in the morgue for a month John, that would be rather unhygienic.
Molly groaned internally. Had he listened to any of her tips on how to treat his shocked friend? Evidently not. Watson started to laugh. He sounded hysterical. Sherlock raised a curious eyebrow in Molly's direction but she shrugged. God knew where the reunion was going to go from here.
"How?"
Molly went to stand by Sherlock feeling that she deserved some of the blame but as she opened her mouth Holmes interrupted her.
"With a garbage truck, a paralytic, a pint of blood and a friend who works at the morgue laying in wait: it was simple enough."
John noted the use of the word 'friend' and how Molly blushed at it. He looked at her more closely.
"Molly thank you for saving him but now I think I'm going to kill him."
A faint smile played around Sherlock's lips. Watson took a step forward and fell to his knees. Sherlock's smile promptly disappeared and he darted over to his friend, kneeling in front of him.
"Are you okay?"
"I waited up for you, but you didn't come." said John looking at him.H eloHe
"I'm sorry." Holmes apologised unable to meet his friend's eyes.
"Why now?"
"Have you heard of the Child Walker?" Watson shook his head. "Well – "
"Sherlock he's exhausted." Molly cut in.
The detective eyed his friend and found himself instantly agreeing. The bags under John's eyes were unmistakeable.
"I'll tell you in the morning." Sherlock decided.
Everything was a blur from then on as far as Watson was concerned. He remembered only parts of the journey back to the flat. He was pretty sure that Holmes had said something along the lines of: "It's good to see you." and that he had replied with a: "You too." After that all he remembered was falling onto the sofa and making sure Sherlock didn't leave.
John was woken in the morning by Mrs Hudson's delighted screech.
"SHERLOCK!"
So it hadn't been a dream then.
He got up from his back numbing position on the sofa. As the feeling returned to his limbs John noted the smashed cup of tea on the floor. He groaned and approached the mess. On closer inspection he realised that he would need to equip himself. He marched to the kitchen and opened the cupboard door. Inside it was full of chemicals and strange concoctions that Sherlock had made only that night. John grinned despite himself. He'd missed this.
He armed himself with a dustpan and brush plus some stain remover and started to clear up the mess at Mrs Hudson's feet because he knew his flatmate wouldn't. Plus, Sherlock was being hugged by the landlady.
"Hello Mr Hudson." the detective greeted.
John could almost hear the hint of a smile in his friend's voice. The doctor felt pleasantly surprise – sentiment? The pair broke apart.
"It's surprising how much I've missed your gunshots." Said Mrs Hudson, before hurriedly adding "Not that they should be aimed at my wall." John smiled and continued to clean up. "Where have you been?"
"Incognito, but I've been keeping myself up to date."
John snorted and looked up at his flatmate.
"How did you prevent your boredom from killing civilians?"
"I posed as an insane, homeless man. I was able to get away with anything." Sherlock replied smugly.
John was slightly worried at this remark. However, his interruption seemed to alert the landlady to his presence.
"Hello John, I'm sorry about the tea. I'll clean it up – "
"Mrs Hudson it's fine." he replied. "You were shocked. Besides, you're not our housekeeper."
She laughed at this.
"Well I'll see you boys later."
John took the shards of glass as Mrs Hudson left and dumped them in the bin using the dustpan. As he returned to try and remove the tea stain on the carpet Sherlock spoke.
"Sleep well?"