AN: I am writing this fanfiction in the views of how I want Sherlock's return to go, not how it actually happens. I love the original but I also love my idea so I'm sorry if some of you guys don't like it; but I do hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also John is a female so it will be Joan.
Disclaimer: Products of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Mark Gatiss (BBC network). I do not own anything but my imagination.
It had been almost two years since Sherlock's death; I've been slowly coming out of my depression. I met a man named Matthew Morstan about a year ago. A fine man he is; he treats me with such love and care and with each passing day, I began to feel better and better. I did miss Sherlock; how could I not? I loved the self-proclaimed sociopath, even when he unintentionally insulted me. He was a great man he was, slowly becoming a good man. Now he is nothing more than a memory to some and breath to others.
I still visit that granite tombstone; never go a week without a visit. People say I should stop beating myself about this, but Matthew understands. I told him stories about Sherlock; not all of them, but some. He could see my admiration for that man, my still silent commitment. He never mind it, in fact he makes sure I make my weekly visit no matter how busy we both are. I've grown to fancy Matthew; we've been dating for a while now and everything seems to be normal once again.
The thing is, I don't crave for normality. I crave for the excitement, the thrill of the chase, for the man that still has my heart. Mycroft still comes to visit and Lestrade is making sure I am kept happy, which makes Matthew laugh. Mrs. Hudson, the dear, never sold 221b to another person and I still pop in every now and then just to get a memory of us together. Anderson and Donavan are silent now. Seems the death of their once favorite joke has stopped their smiles. The world no longer taunts the man as they did before; no seems to miss him now. And even the old clients support my cause. "I believe in Sherlock Holmes." Ah yes that old chant, still is utter on the day of his death, on his birthday and whenever someone trashes his good name.
It's a Saturday morning and Matthew is still asleep. I gently get up from the bed and walk over to the mirror. I can no longer see a ghost, but a person; frail and weak, but a person nonetheless. When he jumped, my world shattered. I became a hollow person, I lost weight, many more dark circles appeared and my nightmares only increased. There were times where I didn't have the strength to get up from my bed, the sofa or the floor. I didn't care what anyone thought; I just wanted that arrogant genius back. However when I met Matthew, I began to change. I wouldn't say back to myself, but I'm healthier and can manage to pick myself up every morning.
"Hey, what are you doing up so early?" Matthew is awake and behind me. I smile at him through the mirror and he wraps his arms around me. "I was just wondering what I looked like in the mirror today." "Adorable as ever, Joan. Come we have a big day today." I silently laughed. "Ah yes this important thing you couldn't tell me yesterday. So come on them spill it. What's the news?" Letting go, he turned me around and said, "All in due time Joan. I plan on telling you tonight but first we have to work so go back to bed so I can make us food." I rolled my eyes. He always was a sweet man, cooking for me when he knows I've had a rough night.
I'm getting ready when there is a knock on the door. Matthew is busy cooking so I rush towards it. Low and behold it's Mycroft Holmes looking sharp as usual. "Good morning Mycroft." He smiles, "Good morning Joan. May I come in?" I step aside to let him enter. He makes himself cozy and I sit across from him. I don't bother with asking him for tea, seeing as he only drinks the finer things. "So Mycroft, what possessed you to come and bless my home this fine morning?" Smirking he retorts, "Sarcasm is such a low blow Dr. Watson. In any case I came to share some new with you that I guarantee you will love." I lean in to show him my interest "Go on, Mr. Holmes." He looks at Matthew then whispers "It's involving Moriarty, Joan."
