One Year Later - Bristol
It was late afternoon on a Saturday, and Jemima was having a relaxing day inside. It was drizzling a bit outside and dark grey clouds rolled across the sky like waves. Jemima curled up with a cup of tea to watch telly. She was renting a small flat in Bristol, and had been there since soon after she was kicked out of Baker Street. Her friend James, who she'd known since school, lived nearby and Jemima wanted to stay somewhere where she knew people. For the first few weeks she hadn't even started to look for a new job. The breakup with Sherlock had hit her hard and she didn't have the heart to do things. She just sat in the flat every day, watching endless television, seemingly numb, waiting for the day when the divorce papers would drop through the letterbox. But none came. She had enough savings to survive for a while, but soon James forced her to do something about her situation, and slowly, Jemima began to rebuild herself. She started a new job, working at an office for a magazine company. But now it was her day off, and Jemima wanted to spend it in peaceful solitude, but it wasn't to last. The doorbell rang and she sighed loudly. She made her way to the window and had a look outside, but couldn't see anybody in the ordinary grey street below. As she turned away she caught the flash of a deep blue scarf, but when she looked again it had disappeared as if it had never been there. Jemima shook her head as she made her way to the door, convincing herself that it couldn't have been the same blue scarf that she had last seen just over a year ago. But it was.
Jemima's jaw clenched as she saw her husband standing before her on the doorstep.
"Over a year Sherlock. Over a year ago you kicked me out and you've got the nerve to find our my address and come and see me. You disgust me Sherlock Holmes." She spat at him.
"But..." He began, looking distressed.
"No, wait." She held out a hand to stop him, her face carved into a twisted, angry smile. "I can guess why you're here. It's about divorce papers isn't it? Have you come to hand deliver them to me as some kind of sick joke? Well you can fuck off! Post them through the letterbox like a normal fucking person!" She made to close the door in his face but he tried to stutter out something. She stood with gritted teeth in the doorway, not caring if the neighbours saw.
"I'm not here about a divorce." He said simply before Jemima cut him off again.
"Oh so you've just come to shout at me then. You've had a pointless trip. You kicked me out and I felt bad for months. I didn't want to do anything. I just wanted you. But then I got over myself!" She shouted at him. She watched as he looked up into her face from the pavement, and just for a moment, she saw real hurt in his eyes. She looked away quickly, she hated it when she saw him in pain, even now. But she quickly reminded herself that she didn't care about him anymore; and yet she did. Jemima shook the thought from her mind and went to close the door in his face again, when his quiet voice stopped her in her tracks.
"I forgive you." He almost whispered. She stared back in disbelief, never for one moment thinking that that was what Sherlock had come to her door for.
"I just wanted you to know that." He said, before turning to walk away.
"No, wait. Please." Jemima said. Wondering how this man always managed to make her come running back every time, even after a year.
"What?" He asked, turning back.
"I'm sorry." She said.
"It's alright. I know you were only trying to protect me from the truth. Just don't lie to me again." He said.
"I'm sorry." Jemima repeated. "I won't lie. I should have told you about it I should have..."
She stopped mid-sentance, watery eyes overflowing and choking on sobs. Sherlock stepped forward and put a conpmforting hand on Jemima's shoulder rather than hugging her, not sure if he was totally forgiven by her just yet. Then she suddenly threw her arms around him.
"I'm sorry too." He said quietly into her ear. "I was too hard in you and I regret it."
"It's fine." She replied, and Sherlock could tell from her voice that she was grinning. "It course it's fine you utterly stupid man."
"Stupid, am I?" Sherlock smiled, pulling back from the hug slightly and raising an eyebrow at her questioningly.
"Definitely." She smiled, and pulled him into a kiss for the first time in over a year. Their lips gently locked together, like two lost pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally reunited.