I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Here is a new fic for you all to enjoy, I do hope you like it!

The Spiders Web

Chapter One

John sighed softly as he looked back to where he had just been standing, as the cab pulled away from the graveyard. It had taken John almost five weeks to gather his wits after his last visit. He still didn't know what to say to Sherlock as he looked to the black marble and the golden letters that marked where his best friend now rested. John had to wondered how things would of developed between the two if things had been able to continue. He sighed as he leaned back and looked down to his folded hands, putting the 'what ifs' out of his mind for now.

It had been six long and hard months since Sherlock had jumped from the roof of St Bart's, and John still didn't know why Sherlock had done it. There just had to be something that caused him to do it. John knew that it had nothing to do with the decline in Sherlock's reputation. The man didn't care about that. As long as John believed in his, and that he could still do his cases, it would have been fine. No, there must have been something that had driven him to the roof top and to jump. That was the only thing that John wanted to know, was why.

The last six months had been hard for John. He had tried to returned to 221B Baker Street after Sherlock's death. But the man hadn't even been able to move himself over the thresh hold and inside the flat that the two of them had shared. To go in and not have Sherlock be there, no more violin at three in the morning, no more mad experiments, no more anything. It had squeezed John's heart so much that he had collapsed on the pavement.

Sherlock and John had started to spend more time with each other, outside of their cases. Small meals out, going places, that normally they wouldn't have, together. They had began that journey that took them from friendship to something more. Something had changed between the two of them and they were just beginning to figure it all out when Moriarty came back into their lives.

One small kiss that had been able to share before Sherlock got swept up in everything to do with Moriarty. It still destroyed John just thinking about it. A small kiss that mean that things ere different between then, that there was something more than the usual friendship that the two of them shared. He looked to the window once again as the streets of London passed him by. He could remembered running through nearly all of them at one point or another.

After Sherlock had jumped, and John couldn't step foot in 221B Baker Street, he had ended up staying with Harry. He hated every moment of it, while she lived in a nice area and had a wonderful home. Harry was still the spiteful woman she had become after her divorce to Clara. Throwing everything in his face about Sherlock being fake. That because he had jumped, he had made it look like he was guilty. No mater what John said, he couldn't stop her from ranting at him about it all, hurting him all the time. He spent most of his time wandering around the streets, staying out longer and longer, just to avoid the cutting and hurtful remarks.

Last night had been the worst. She had started on his as she normally did, and at the end of her rant, she had called Sherlock a freak. It had been the first time she had used that word around John, and it hurt him deeply to hear it. With her verbal attack then continuing on him and his feelings for Sherlock being brought up, John had ended up wandering outside for the rest of the night. As morning began to rise, he had plucked up the courage and had ended up standing in the graveyard, where Sherlock now rested. A part of him wanted nothing more than to join him, but somehow, knowing that if he even tried, Sherlock would be disappointed in him. It didn't mater how much of a hypocrite it would make the other.

John knew he had to go back to Baker Street. He had no where else to go and he could no longer stand the thought of being near Harry. He didn't even think he would be able to talk to her or even forgive her for her words any time soon. She had crossed a line, and thought he hadn't said a word about her drinking habits, she had still be her bitchy selfish self towards him, as though he had mentioned them.

A pang of hurt and sorrow made itself know as the cab rilled into Baker Street and stopped outside 221B. John looked at the door and sighed, he missed Sherlock, and the only thing he wanted was for his wish to be true. For him not to be dead and for him to come home, to where he belonged.

He paid the cab driver as he climbed out of the back and walked over to the front door. He pulled out his keys and looked to them, and then to the black door with the brass numbers. Still shining as brightly as they did when he had last walked out of them. John frowned when he saw that the knocker was straight, he reached up and pushed it, so it was crooked. He put his key in the door and turned them, unlocking the door. He walked in for the first time in just over six months and stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked up.

'You invaded Afghanistan.' Came a whisper of Sherlock's voice, as though it would get him to pluck up the courage to go up the stairs.

John closed his eyes as his min played tricks on him. For a moment he thought he could even hear the strains of a violin as Sherlock played. He shook his head, getting rid of them as best as he could. He remained where he was standing for a few more moments as the door to 221A opened and Mrs Hudson walked out.

"Oh John," she smiled, it was a sad smile. She rushed towards him and wrapped her thin arms around him, and held onto him tightly, as though he might disappear once more. "Oh John, you're home," she said, her voice soft and full of sorrow.

John wrapped his own arms around her and held her just as tightly, neither of them wanted to let go of the last person that understood and cared about Sherlock like they did. "I'm home Mrs Hudson," he told her gently, "I'm home."

She pulled her head back, without letting him go as she looked up to him, he was only slightly more taller than her, "For good?" she asked him, as she looked into his eyes, wanting to see if he would tell her the truth.

John nodded his head slowly, "Yes, Mrs Hudson, for good. I'm not leaving again this time, this is my home."

She smiled back to him as she got him to go up the stairs, promising a nice cup of tea and to see if she couldn't find them some biscuits. Reminding the man that she wasn't his housekeeper, but just this once she would do a cu for him. John couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face, Mrs Hudson would never change, and for that one thing, he was thankful.

Thank you for reading this new story. I don't know how long it will be. But I do hope that you'll enjoy it.