Author's note : My take on what happens when Sherlock returns to London. One shot. Please read and review!
Disclaimer : Gatiss, Moffat, I'm forever thy humble servant.
It was an unusually sunny winter morning when I stepped out of my flat. Nothing unusual about my life now though. It was as routine as it could get. Taking a cab to Bart's was out of the question so I took the bus. My determination to avoid everything that reminded me of him had ended up becoming a great inconvenience. But I didn't mind, as long as it kept thoughts about him away.
The bus reached the hospital soon and I got down. Looking at the entrance always made me think of him. Always. There was nothing I could do to keep my mind preoccupied. So I gave in with a sigh.
How many times had we gone through that door together, climbed the stairs to the morgue and found Molly working patiently? I shrugged my shoulders as I reached my consulting room panting slightly. With no more running around London with Sherlock, my body had rusted and my leg was giving me problems again.
'Two flights of stairs in ten minutes won't do John. Where has your energy gone?' said a voice behind me. I smiled in surrender. The hallucinations hadn't troubled me for the past two months but now they were back. I ignored the voice and stepped in to the clinic, shutting the door behind me. To my surprise, I found him sticking his foot in the doorway, to prevent it from closing. How was he able to do that if he was just a piece of my mind?
' Three unsolved murders in a year won't do either. Remind me to talk to Lestrade about that' he drawled in his usual cold voice and pushed past me into the room. I stared at him.
He hardly looked like the Sherlock I knew. Gone was the curly mop of raven hair. Instead his locks were short, straight and ginger. His pale cheekbones jutted out of his skin and he had deep purple circles under his eyes. However, the voice, the demeanor, the irritation reserved for a mind less intelligent than his own, in this case Lestrade, was intact.
Just then, the nurse walked in and withdrew with an apology,' I'm sorry sir, I was unaware that you had a visitor'.
I looked at him bewildered. 'She can see you too?' I gasped.
'Apparently' he said nonchalantly.
Which could only mean one thing.
I froze in my seat for a second before regaining my senses and punched him as hard as I could in the face.
'What the hell was that for?' he yelled in pain.
'You absolute bastard' I barely managed to spit out, so tremendous was my rage. He must have noticed that I was shaking because he attempted to calm me down by grabbing my shoulders.
'Get your filthy hands off me!' I yelled at him.' Three years, three bloody years since you left me alone, since you died and you show up like nothing's happened? How dare you?'
He said things like Moriarty, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, assassin but I was not really listening.
'I think you should go now' I managed to say quietly, trying hard to control my anger.
'Your anger is justifiable. But listen to me please! The whole point was-'
'The point is that I don't need this anymore Sherlock! I don't need you now. I moved on! I have a life now!' I shouted at him again.
The hurt in his eyes was the only thing that gave away his disappointment. On the outside, he was as calm and collected as ever.
'John-'
That one word did it. How many times had I yearned to listen to this word from his mouth, in his voice, in the past three years? He didn't know what it was like for me, did he? The endless sessions with the shrink, the lifelike hallucinations driving me crazy, the rush of memories whenever I met anyone who knew him. He didn't know. And he hadn't cared.
'Get out' I snapped at him.
'John, please-'
Oh so he was begging now. Served him right.
'Get the hell out of my room. Get out of my life!' I found myself yelling again.
He looked at me one last time before turning away with a swirl of his long coat.
'Wait' He stopped in his tracks.'Before you leave, tell me how you did it. I saw you fall. I felt your pulse. How did you survive?' I asked, curiosity overcoming anger.
'Molly' was the only thing he said before storming out.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx
I sat alone in the cafeteria, sipping coffee, not noticing when Molly slipped into the chair opposite mine.
'You have no idea d'you?' she said and I snapped again.
'How would I? No one tells me anything! You knew and I'm sure Mycroft knew but I don't! You know what after all this time I thought I actually meant something to him. It hurts when you come to know that someone you trusted with your life deceived you in the worst way possible...' I ranted on and on and she listened patiently. I was grateful to her for that but couldn't help but feel annoyed. She knew. Sherlock told her, trusted her but not me.
'What I meant was ,John, you really don't know why he did it, d'you?' she said calmly as if talking to a child.
I shook my head, finally falling short of words to demonstrate my indignation.
She explained the whole thing to me and I sat listening, dumbstruck. He did it for us. Jumped from a rooftop, disappeared from the face of the world, brought down Moriarty's criminal organisation, left his reputation in the mud... all for us. I, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson. To allude Moriarty's assassins into believing that he had jumped to his death, so that they would lay off the three of us.
A wave of guilt coursed through me. What had I done? The same thing that he had warned me against so many times. Jumped to conclusions without enough data.
I knocked over my cup of coffee in my haste to get out of the hospital. I had to go and see him. I returned Molly's knowing smile before rushing out to the street.
My heart was heavy with apprehension as I climbed up to 221B. Would he find it in his heart to forgive me after all? Despite his many arguments that he didn't have a heart, I knew he was wrong. What else had led him to abandon his identity and his whole life for three ordinary human beings?
I opened the door and found him curled on the sofa in a grey t-shirt,pajama bottoms and the blue dressing gown, facing the wall. On the table lay a syringe and a bottle full of a clear liquid. This couldn't be good.
'Sherlock?' I said uncertainly.
He jumped up in an instant facing me and for once, his eyes weren't those of a cold deducing machine. I could see them filled to the brim with emotions. Uncertainty, guilt, relief and so many unnamed things.
'Why didn't you tell me?' I whispered.
'It was necessary for you to believe what I wished you to. Your life was in danger' he said, trying hard and failing to act nonchalant.
'Sherlock, you imbecile, it took you a minute to know everything about me, yet two whole years weren't enough to make you understand that I care nothing about danger as long as I'm with you?' I said, looking straight into his aquamarine eyes.
' This was different. You would've been a disadvantage, slowing me down' he muttered keeping his eyes fixed tot he ground. It didn't take a genius to know he was lying.
'You're a terrible liar' said I, fighting the urge to laugh out loud.
' You would've died! What would I have done without my Boswell?' he blurted out.
I couldn't believe how incredibly selfish he was being.
'And what about me? You actually thought I'd be able to survive God-knows-how-many-freaking-years without you? That I'd be able to adjust to my life after it had been drained clear of all the excitement?' said I.
'Yes, I thought so John. I thought that you'd find it easier to move on since you had other people in your life as opposed to myself' he admitted, making me want to throw something at him.
'Then you thought wrong Sherlock! Because you know what? my life is nothing, nothing at all without you! Each and every day has been as boring as it could get, only because I was used to the adrenaline rush that came only from running through London with you! Solving crimes with you, working in the morgue with you and discovering body parts in the fridge and what not...' I finished off with a roll of my eyes.
'Yes, that was rather disgusting wasn't it?' he smirked at me.
I couldn't help it. I smirked back at him.
'Care for a bit of trouble tonight then?' he asked me knowing my answer before it had escaped my lips.
'Hell yea!' I exclaimed before walking towards him and embracing him like a brother.
He patted my back awkwardly while I tried hard to swallow the tears that had welled up in my eyes.
'I'm glad you're back Sherlock' I whispered and he just nodded in response before reverting to the energy packed wolfhound that he became when confronted with a case.
'Let's go John, there is no time to lose! Call a cab, I'll be downstairs in a minute. Three unsolved murders, it's Christmas! Mrs. Hudson, I'll need the flat free from dust when we return. Oh how I've missed this! So much roaming all over the globe and finally there's something fun going on! The game is on!'
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Love always
Aditi xoxoxo