The smile on the wall started to shift. It twisted, morphed into a mocking smirk.
What…
There was something different about the flat. It was… colder. Almost… Empty. Mrs. Hudson had sold the skull that sat on the mantle. The less expensive science equipment had been thrown away. 221B was a mess full of nothing. Empty armchairs and empty emotion.
Yes, John Watson had suffered over the past three years. And life didn't seem to be getting any easier.
I'm sorry. SH
He was there. He was… Was… "Sherlock?"
"Well, isn't this just peachy." Moriarty grinned. "John looks positively fetching with a look of confusion on his pretty little face."
"Don't talk about him that way."
"What do you mean, Sherly?"
"It's time. I've upheld my end of the deal. Now it's time you did yours." Sherlock's eyes were a steely, unchanging blue. The former consulting detective did not look away, didn't even blink. He couldn't afford losing sight of Moriarty until this was all over. Until he was home. Until he convinced Mrs. Hudson to buy back his skull.
"I would never break a promise, my dear boy." Moriarty tapped the glass of the monitor, watching the image breaking under his finger. "You'll see your pet soon enough."
"Now, Moriarty." Sherlock's voice dripped venom, but his expression never changed
"Slow down there. No need to be hasty."
"Let me go."
Moriarty sighed. Thought. "Fine. You can go. But I'll watch."
The takeaway he had been holding fell to the ground as he stared, unblinkingly, at the little pink slip of paper sitting on the coffee table.
No, it couldn't be. There's no way. Sherlock was dead. He had been for the last three years and John had only recently accepted that fact. Miracles didn't exist. There was no way.
A sound found its way from the doorway to John's ears, but he didn't register it. The loopy handwriting that was so clearly Sherlock's was blinding him of anything else.
"I'm sorry." The deep baritone voice that John knew all too well followed the sound of footsteps. John didn't look up. Didn't move. Didn't flinch. "I'm sorry." When there was still no answer, the voice took one more step forward. "John? I… I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" John slowly turned to the person who stood in the doorway that couldn't be Sherlock… It looked like him, sounded like him, but it couldn't… Miracles didn't exist. "After all this time, you say you're sorry?"
Sherlock's features softened. "Yes." He had nothing else to say. Silence passed between the pair. Sherlock watched as gears ground together in John's mind. The doctor came to his verdict, looked up from the ground and stared hard at Sherlock.
"I don't know who you are. Get out of my flat."
"Oh, and the plot thickens." Moriarty's trill voice squeaked, as his fingers tangled together. He leaned closer to the screen. "What's next…? What's next…?"
"John, I-"
"I said I don't know you. Get out."
"But John."
"No, Sherlock. I don't know you. Leave." John's eyes screwed shut as his hand pointed to the door.
"No."
"Yes."
"No." Sherlock stepped in front of the doctor, trying to coax his eyes open. "I'm not leaving again."
John's fist connected with Sherlock's jaw. There was a crack and a grunt as Sherlock bent over, long fingers gently pressing where it would bruise. "I'm sorry."
"Bastard."
"I'm sorry."
Another punch landed hard closer to Sherlock's nose on the other side. "Bastard."
"I'm sorry."
Tears welled behind John's eyelids until his fists drew blood. The doctor came to a halt, hands balled at his side. "You lying son of a bitch!"
"Good one, Johnny boy, good one."
"Better?" Sherlock asked, ignoring the pain. He always did like a little injury. It made sensations feel so much more alive.
"Yes, actually." John stood up straighter, his military self-restraint coming forward.
"Good, because I need your help."
"How about you make a little deal with the devil, huh, Sherly? You lie to all of the people you care about, and I'll leave your pet alone. I won't touch him. I won't bother him. As long as you help me out, no contact with John will be made in any shape or form. Give the dark side a try, Sherlock, why don't you?"
Sherlock ripped the last camera from the wall of flat 221B and he knew John was safe. Well, as safe as he could be with Sherlock around.
John didn't want to talk to him. There were too many things to say and not enough time to say them, so he sat in his armchair and stared forward, his lips set in a frown. "John." Sherlock had sat down across from him. "John, we need to talk."
"About?"
"About what happened. You don't understand why I did what I did. I'm sorry, but we need to talk."
A moment passed before John focused on Sherlock. "You lied to me. To Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly. Everyone. I used to think that you would swoop back into my life saying that this was all for some overzealous experiment. I used to think that miracles were possible and that you could make them come true. But one day something occurred to me:
"Life isn't fair. Life is a bitch and sometimes it decides to take away the only person you truly care for.
"One day I realized that no matter how much I hoped, no matter how much I prayed, nothing was going to bring back the great Sherlock Holmes. Nothing was going to bring back my best and only friend. Nothing was going to bring back the only person I truly loved.
"And here you are.
"So, please, go ahead and try to convince me it's ok. Convince me that this was all some crazy scheme. Because I want to know. Be honest now. Why the hell did you come back?"
Sherlock's pale face turned to stone. His expression stayed emotionless to cover the turmoil of feeling underneath. "You loved me?"
"I could say I still love you, but I really don't think now's the time for sentiment."
"I'm sorry, John. I had no other way out. I made a deal with the devil and while so far he hasn't broken that deal, I don't know how much longer it will stay like this. I had to come back. And I can't leave you. There are things I need to clear up and a person I need to protect. I'm sorry, John, but I need to come home. Please, let me stay."
John felt something bubble up from deep in his chest. "I love you."
"I thought you said now wasn't the time for sentiment."
"Yeah… I lied." John looked around the room, saw the yellow smile on the wall and felt himself start to follow its example.
It was comfortable. Sherlock came closer to John, leaning down in front of the doctor. John watched the different colors shifting in the detective's eyes. He felt their lips meet for a quick moment before Sherlock pulled away.
"By any chance, do you know where Mrs. Hudson sold my skull?"
Hi there, world!
I am pretty new to FF and decided that I might as well add a story or two. Here's a little Sherlock for you and I really hope you liked it!
