This is just a very short story after Sherlock's return after The Fall. Please review and have a good day! :D
Sherlock Holmes, the consultant detective everyone had thought dead. But…he was, right? He had jumped off an extremely tall hospital and died.
Wrong.
Sherlock had faked his death and had lived a lie for two whole years.
John Watson, Sherlock's best friend, had watched it all unfold. He had spoken to Sherlock's grave, and had never really stopped grieving for his friend. It wasn't until a certain waiter in the restaurant he was dining in with his to-be fiancé, revealed himself to be the "dead" detective. Of course, John gave him a few bruises and a bloody nose that night, and never actually forgave him. That is, until John thought he and Sherlock were going to be blown to bits in that abandoned tube.
Now, they sit together in the flat they used to share, each in their own chair. Sherlock sat with his palms clasped together under his chin, while John sipped his sugarless coffee.
"John, do you really?" Sherlock asked suddenly, breaking the peaceful silence.
"Do I really what?" John replied, after setting down his cup.
"Forgive me. Do you actually forgive me?"
John appeared startled for a second, before resuming sipping from his cup.
Sherlock stared intently at him, as if waiting for a rebuke, or a harsh word, perhaps both.
"Yes, Sherlock. I told you that in the tube," John finally assured him. His eyes flickered down to the coffee he was swirling around in his cup. "I always believed in you…you know that?"
"Hm?"
"You told me it was a trick. That it was all a lie." John paused to sip his coffee. "I never doubted you were lying to me up there on the roof. I knew it was a lie." A sad expression flickered across his features. "I just can't fathom why you wouldn't tell me of your plan."
"I am truly sorry, John. I meant to tell you, it just never happened." A moment of silence fell about the flat. "Please… please, John, forgive me." Sherlock sat there for long minutes, just muttering for John to forgive him. The tears escaping his piercing blue eyes were real, not just for show. He was showing true emotions, he wasn't the sociopath he said he was, John knew.
In that moment, John forcefully set down his cup of coffee, and kneeled down by Sherlock and grabbed his friend's trembling shoulders. The detective looked up immediately, and took in a shaky breath. "You do forgive me, John?"
"Yes. Of course." John smiled brightly. "And I want you to be the best man at my wedding."
Sherlock's features lit up like a light illuminating the darkness. "Thank you, John."
The two men stood up and embraced each other, as John whispered, "thank you for being my best friend, Sherlock Holmes."