It's been a year since Sherlock to the jump. The most idiotic mistake he had ever made. Did Sherlock not realise what pain he had caused? Not just to Molly, who sat in her apartment for weeks without any contact from the outside world. Not just the papers, who were arguing whether the jump was suicide from pressure or other unknown reasons. No, Sherlock did not think, as he usually did, about this decision.
John Watson was unaware of what was to come when he saw the call from Sherlock. When he had answered it, he didn't know that this was the last he would hear from him. So when Sherlock took the swan dive, he couldn't - no, wouldn't talk to anyone. Not to the papers, not to broken Molly, not even to the blocked call that came a year later. He wouldn't have it.
John Watson was sitting on his laptop, writing on his blog about absolutely nothing meaningful. His viewers had dropped from over 100,000 to barely 10. There was nothing excellent to write about these days.
His phone rang.
He didn't plan on answering it. No one to talk to. He didn't want to say it out loud, but he had loved Sherlock. That's who he wanted to talk to, but he had accepted that there was no logical way he would ever see or hear from Sherlock ever again.
The phone continued to ring.
"Aren't you going to answer that deary?" Mrs. Hudson called from the hallway.
John ignored her and continued typing.
The phone finally stopped ringing when Mrs. Hudson burst into the room.
"Turn on channel 5!" John quickly got up and turned on the tele.
"There has been an explosion off of 21st and Fleet Street. Reporters say there have been 2 deaths and 21 have Alex Baker on the scene."
"What's so interesting about this? I'm not-" He stopped. looked upset. This was something she would normally tell Sherlock right? See if he was interested in the case, then he would drag John along to the scene and outsmart the police every way possible.
John told Mrs. Hudson to leave and she did without hesitation. He turned off the tele and went back to writing.
About an hour later, it was 10 at night when John decided to go and lay down. He shut off his computer and headed to his room. As he passed Sherlock's old door, he thought about the time when Ms. Adelaide knocked him unconscious with a drug. He thought of how adorable Sherlock looked when he was nodding off every other hour or so until he tried to stumble his way across the room.
John was just starting to undress when someone in the corner of the room spoke to him.
"Do you not know how to pick up a phone?"
John whirled around to see a face he hadn't seen in a long while. Someone who he had missed and thought was gone forever.
"Sherlock?"
John was overwhelmed.
"What is going on Sherlock? What happened back there?" Sherlock was silent.
"I tend not to dwell on the past." John wanted to scream, but instead, he paced over to Sherlock, who was now standing, and embraced him. Tears began to run down John's cheek and land on Sherlock's purple dress shirt.
"Don't you dare leave me ever again," John managed to say. Sherlock continued in silence.
"Promise me. Promise me Sherlock." John begged for an answer. After a moment of silence, Sherlock embraced John and kissed him. Sherlock's lips felt soft and warm as they glided over his. Sherlock held John close, so that he could feel Sherlock's heart beating fast against his chest. Sherlock's right hand slid to John's waist as the other moved to his neck.
They moved closer to the bed as John ripped Sherlock's coat off. Things were just starting to heat up when the door to John's room opened. John and Sherlock both had never felt this embarrassed in their lives.