My take on John and Sherlock's reunion moment after the Fall.
I own nothing
[Everything was ok]
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Molly had come to 221B Baker Street telling John it all had been a lie. She said she had told Mrs. Hudson an Inspector Lestrade already, and now they were all there, waiting.
John couldn't believe it, he wasn't a stupid, after all. He had to see Sherlock Holmes alive with his own eyes. He was on the armchair, that armchair he had barely got up from in the last six months, but everybody else was standing up, restless.
Almost Cheerfully, Mrs. Hudson had made tea for them all. "How can they do it" thought John, "if he is dead, they'll just be disappointed and sadder than before. While if he is alive…" He couldn't think of that possibility, a way to happy one to cross the mind of the man he had become.
But he was saved the trouble, there he was. There he was on the doorstep: Sherlock Holmes, or his ghost.
Everyone was smiling from ear to ear, Molly left with some reason –what was she afraid of? - everyone was now walking towards their long-missed friend. Everyone but John. The doctor was just staring at the man, if a man he was, frowning as if trying to decide something.
Through tears, Mrs. Hudson muttered something about Sherlock being silly, and Lestrade gave him a way too strong pat on the shoulder.
Still, Sherlock was motionless, staring at John, as if waiting for his permission to speak, move, get back to life.
"They can see him, touch him. He is here. He is alive." John finally let himself realize after thinking of every other possible explanation. And then, John Watson felt his heart start beating again. He could hear it pound in his chest slowly, then faster, and then even faster, as hope left place to rage.
Trembling, John got to his feet and made his way forward, helping himself keep his balance with any object he could find. "You…" he started off with a faint voice. He hadn't used it much lately: what was the point, who was there to talk to? really talk to?
"John" an almost scared Sherlock replied, now looking down at the floor.
"You made us believe you were dead" the doctor's voice getting louder and louder "You made me believe you were gone" his last words trembled in his mouth "not a note, a call, a text, nothing! You left me here, hopeless…"
"John, I did that- "
"Don't you dare, Holmes!" The use of his last name hitting Sherlock more than any blow, punch or fall. "Don' you dare say you did that to keep me safe! You know I can take care of myself." Said John pointing an accusative finger at the consulting detective.
"I'm sorry…" Sherlock voice was almost inaudible. What was the point of coming back if his only friend despised him?
"You are sorry! Well that's all right then! Let us all have tea and tell stories about that time Sherlock Holmes –the great Sherlock Holmes- made us believe he was dead and went off having fun elsewhere!" the doctor's sarcastic voice reached peaks he didn't think it could.
"What?" Sherlock's eyes flew towards his flatmate, his reaction building quickly inside of him.
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson, bring tea! Friends, please, sit down!" John went on, turning around, addressing to the concerned faces of the people in the room. Mrs. Hudson was on the verge of tears. "How exciting it must have been for our survivor, to know he had managed to trick us! We were here, desperate and lost in grief… but what's that, compared to the great mischief of Sherlock Holmes!"
"How do you think I felt?" Sherlock's loud, trembling voice came from behind the doctor, forcing him to turn to face him. "knowing what you were going through, spying on you and never being able to show up. I couldn't contact you , I couldn't touch you, I couldn't be seen. You have friends John, all I have is you." The consulting detective's chest lowering and rising at speed, as he and his friend were looking into each other's eyes for the first time.
"You've made me addicted to you John, how do you think I coped?"
"I…" John's mind was blank. He hadn't thought about the possibility of his friend suffering and missing him just as much as he had.
Sherlock was calmer now, but still speaking with enlarged nostrils "At times, I thought it was useless to live like that… For the first time in my life, John, I felt there was nothing interesting, nothing worth living for. A few years ago, maybe, I could have made it, but now it was different. There were enigmas, dilemmas, the thrill of living outside the world, the challenge of managing to live in the darkness. But it turns out that doesn't really matter without…" his words stopping a bit, here and then went on, awkwardly "… without something else. At times I couldn't take it anymore and I swear , I could've just jumped- "
He couldn't finish.
John slapped him in the face –hard.
His hand never leaving Sherlock's face, and pulling him close in what seemed to be an unbreakable embrace. John's forehead rested on his friend's shoulder, and Sherlock's arms tightened around John's back without even contemplating the idea of letting go.
"Don't you ever do that to me again, Sherlock" John spoke, his words barely understandable, colliding against his friend's body. But Sherlock understood. He always did. "don't you ever do that to us both."
Sherlock Holmes and John Watson where back together at Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson was serving tea and inspector Lestrade despaired on a case he really couldn't deal with.
Everything was ok.
.-. .-. .-. .-.
I had been looking for a really good story about John and Sherlock's reunion moment (please, please link me one if you know it) when I decided I'd try to write one myself. Well, I'm not completely satisfied with this, but I still hope you like it =)
Lize