((HELLO GUISE, WELCOME TO MY FIRST STORY! Alight enough Caps lock. So in this story we have Sherlock coming home and John dealing with it, we have Jim coming back but not the same as he once was, and we have a new treat to the world! BEFORE YOU READ THIS, I AM TELLING YOU THAT IT IS NOT LIKE THE ACTUALLY BOOK! THIS IS ALL COMING OUT OF MY MIND SET! The idea came from a very very long role-play me and my friend have been doing. The theories may be wrong and silly, but I am doing this to past the time when I am bored. I plan on making this rather long so bare with me people.))

((Warnings: Cursing, hitting, and implied character death.))

The dull sun barely shined through the dirty window onto John's closed eyes. He was resting happily in his bed. It had been three years. Three very long years since the fall and death of his best friend. Much has happened in those three years. Some joyful things and some terrible things. Though John would have to say that the past four months had been the best in those three years.

John opened his light blue eyes before closing them again. He rolled on his side and grumbled a bit before opening them again. He rolled on his side and opened them half way. He stared at the floor for a moment. He was having one of those pre-motivations you do before you get out the bed. After eight minutes of deciding if he was going to jog or watch one of his favorite programs, the fire alarm from the kitchen went off. John throws the covers back and fast walked into the living area. He let out a small chuckle at what he saw.

The blond women with messy hair and was a bit pudgy stood by the stove. The oven was open and black smoke was coming out. She was muttering under her breath as she dusted some of the smoke off. She was wearing pin stripe slacks and a blue dress shirt underneath was a white cami-shirt.

"Third time this week must be a new record." At John's voice she turned around and put on an embarrassed smile.

"I was trying to make you grilled cheese. I know how much you like it." She leant over and turned off the oven. John made his way over to her and hugged her. His arms gently wrapped around her waist.

"I also like my flat." He smiled and laid a soft kiss on her lips. He was still living in 221B though this time with a companion. The woman in John's arms was Mary Morstan. A young school teacher whom John had given his home to. They had been together for a year and a half now. Though John wasn't too sure about it at first, he wouldn't think twice about it now. Mary wasn't the prettiest girl John dated, but in his eyes she was prefect in every way.

"Morning breath." Mary let a smile come to her face as she patted his cheek. "Did I wake you?"

"No, not this time at least." John looked over at the burnet grilled cheese and picked one up. It was warm and hard. The edges were black with a mix of brown. He stared at it for a moment before taking a bite. Mary smiled as John forced the food down his throat. John knew Mary couldn't cook, but she thought that she could. So he would eat her food to make her feel better about herself.

"Don't eat too much now." Mary walked away from John leaving him alone in the small kitchen. "You know if you ever want us to live in house, you should get a job to love." Mary was picking of course. She didn't mind if John didn't have job, besides they were getting some money in another sort of fashion.

"You can only go so far with a military degree." He waited for her to bend over to put on his clothes before throwing away a piece of toast.

Mary let out a little tsk as she walked back to her boyfriend before kissing his cheek. "I am sure something will come up John. Just be patient, I have a really good feeling about this month."

"Let's hope that you are right." With that she turned and walked out the door. John looked at the clock and it was 6:43 am. He made a noise with his mouth declaring his boredom. The house was now quiet, beside the sounds from outside of course, John decided to take a seat and turn on his TV. Three years. It has been three years since he went on any case. Though he still talked and went out with Greg. Three years since he had heard the smartass tone of his best friend. Three years since anyone touched the other chair. Three years since John Watson has seen Sherlock Holmes.

A black slim car drove up to the very small yet cozy home. It parked on the side of the road and out stepped the tall man in a black suit. In his hand was an umbrella which he had brought because of the storm threats. He twirled it a bit as he walked up to the door, knocking on it.

The door suddenly opens, but not all the way, just enough for that crystal glass stained sky blue eye to see who was before the red door. After examining the man in the black suit up and down, the door closes again. With the sound of the top chain being undone, the door then opens wide. There in the doorway stands Sherlock, wearing his plum purple tight dress shirt and black long pants. The violin strummer in his hand as his beautiful eyes stayed glued to his brother.

"Sherlock, when I said that I wanted you to change, I did not mean into a bum." Mycroft rolled his eyes at Sherlock and pushed past him. Sherlock didn't say a word; instead he rolled his eyes a bit and closed the door behind him.

"And when I said bring back sugar for mum, you did the complete opposite of my directions, and went to get a cup of coffee and a scone."

Mycroft took a seat on one of the chairs in the sitting room. "Sherlock I want to talk to you about coming home." Sherlock looked out the window at the car.

"You should wash your car. The tires are also getting warned out. You'll get a flat soon."

"Sherlock I am tryi-"

"How is the love life going? Did you and your wife finally spilt."

"SHERLOCK HOLMES, I am trying to speak to you as an adult."

"The answer is no." Sherlock went away from the window and over to the sitting room.

"You say that you are bored but yet you won't come back."

"I have been watching the news Mycroft. A new killer is at large, someone copying the acts of Moriarty. Too bad they aren't originals, now that wouldn't be boring at all.." Sherlock sat on the couch across from Mycroft and stared at his brother's twisted face. "If you keep making that face, it will get stuck like that."

"What if John was in trouble, what would you do then?" Sherlock thought about for a second.

"John's life will not be in danger no longer. Moriarty's men are behind bars and this new found man will not know of my existence." Mycroft let out a sigh as he stood up.

"Fine, where is our mother?"

"Mummy is ill, laying upstairs in her bed. She hasn't slept correctly due to the pain in her stomach so I suggest you leave, why? Because I don't want to spend the day talking to you about nothing that catches my interest.."

"Are you not letting me see my own mother?"

"Yes."

Mycroft shook his head and picked up his umbrella. It was raining already. "You are nothing but a child Sherlock. At least tell her I came by." He headed to the door.

"Mycroft, what of John?" Mycroft turned to look at his brother but said nothing as he walked out. Sherlock made a face as he locked the door behind Mycroft and went back to his seat. Before he could sit though, he heard a faint voice call out to him. He walked to the back room to his mother. She was lying on the bed covered up. She was old and looked very sick.

"Sherlock honey, was someone here just now?" She sat up a tad but her arms gave out and she laid back down.

"No, it was the television." As soon as the lie left out his mouth, his mother slapped his hand.

"Sherlock Holmes don't sit there and lay to me. I can see it in your eyes." Sherlock let a small smile come to his face. Smiles were rare for Sherlock. Only a few people have ever seen him smile a real smile before. Sherlock's mother was the one who could bring out his smiles though. Sherlock was always his mom's favorite while Mycroft lent more toward their dad's side. "Did he talk about going back?"

"Yes of course, what else does he come down here for?"

"Well he does come to see me every now and then. Though you never let him pass." The older woman yet out a laugh but coughed. Sherlock watched his mom as she went into a coughing fit. "Sh-Sherlock, maybe you should go back."

"You worried about my happiness here? About letting me grow in this shape. I am fine were I am a-"

"No Sherlock, I am worried myself." She smiled a little. "I am old Sherlock, I won't last much longer. What will you do when I am gone, you never clean up after yourself and you don't even eat unless I force you." She lifted her hand and placed it on Sherlock's cheek. "This John boy, he made you happy Sherlock. You had feelings for him."

"John Watson was nothing more than a friend. Feelings are for those of stupid minds."

"I loved your father."

"And looks were that has gotten you. Twelve years of abuse, and three more of struggling to make money." Sherlock scoffed as he pulled his head away from his mother's comfort.

"Go to him Sherlock. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for him. From what Mycroft had told me, he must have really liked you." Sherlock looked at his mother before letting out a sigh. His mother lowered her hand and touched his chest. "Think with this for once." He poked his forehead playfully. "Not this."

The long slim black taxi car pulled up before the building labeled 221B Baker Street, the same gold plate of course. The door to the taxi opened and out stepped Sherlock, wearing his long coat, the scarf, a hat on to cover his eyes, and his hands in his pockets. He walked up to the door and placed his key in the hole, knowing it was the same one as always because John isn't the type to change locks. Once the door was opened he made up way up the stairs, slowly...very slowly, hearing those familiar creeks he always would love to hear when John would come back from shopping or a day at the office.

He went up to the flat door and placed his hand on it, sliding it down the green wood before opening it and looking around at the neatly made room. It was all the same but less...sherlocked. He turned and hung his coat up on the door, outside the door or the knob he tied his scarf around it, but the way he would when he put it on his neck. Sherlock made sure the door was completely closed before walking to his black chair in his purple dress shirt and black pants, holding his instrument. The detective closed his eyes and placed it up to his neck, leaning his face against it as he began to play.

John had decided to do some grocery shopping while his girlfriend was out. On his journey, cookie sellers, charity, and the dreaded self-check outs. After an hour or so he gets his things and heads out. "Stupid self-check outs. These robots are taking over the human work force. "John began muttering as he walks up the road, both of his hands full. He could have gotten a cab, but he didn't want to waste more money. He opened the front door then headed up the stairs. Grumbling about random gibberish and about missing his television show. He dropped one of the bags and it rolled down the steps." I DIDN'T NEED YOU ANYWAYS!" With a sigh he opened the front door.

John didn't even notice the man in his house at first. His mind focused on the bag that fell down the steps. It wasn't till he actually reached that first step he heard the music play. John turned his head and looked at his once flat mate. Everything in his life seemed too stopped.

Sherlock stood before the window with his back turned to John, the melody echoing through the room, bouncing off the walls and entering John's ears as if listening to it through headphones. The sunlight shimmered and bled through the thin glass, causing the man before him to glow like an angel

"..Sherlock?" John slowly walked towards him. His hand comes up to touch him to see if he is real. Sherlock stopped playing and slowly lowered his instrument, placing it on the coffee table

"I suppose you had another row with the machine. Hell I never thought you'd come back within this hour." Turns around so John can see his face he was perfect, just like always. "Hello, John."

Within seconds of the greeting, Sherlock's jaw came into contact with John's fist. The blow knocks Sherlock off his feet and into his chair.

"YOU ARSE HOLE. I WENT THROUGH THREE YEARS OF HELL AND FOUR PSYCHIATRISTS BECAUSE OF YOU! I HAD TO TAKE DERPESSANTS!" Sherlock sat up, closing his eyes for a good minute in silence before opening them again.

"I vanished.."

John let out a pity laugh and shook his head. "You think? Why?" Sherlock Stood up and walked up to John, placing his hands on his arms, then feeling him down as if checking for a weapon. "What are you doing" John squirmed within his grip. "Quit stalling!" With John's temper growing, he pulled back.

"My apologies I had to make sure you were free of any kind of tracking device. I guess Moriarty really is dead. Good, now I am free to explain."

"What? What does Moriarty have to do with you leaving?" Sherlock Sits down, signaling John to do the same. Once they are comfortable, sitting in front of one another, Sherlock places his fingers to his chin and begins speaking.

"Moriarty had a plan, which he called the final problem...and that plan was to make me suffer, accuse me for being a frond and killing me off in a way that wouldn't get his hands dirty. No that man had it too easy if he were to do it on his own, so he thought to switch up the story a bit. The reason you and I had that fight before my death was to distract you and pull you away from the building I was located at. Jim being in the same building asked me if I would like to come up and play. Those assassins on our doorstep were for a reason, which I soon learned when being told by the man himself, that they were supposed to die under my name if I didn't finish off the story the way I was meant to in this book he was writing inside of that messed up little mind of his. I thought I had a plan, I thought I could trick him, because I knew that because I had him, no one could have been harmed. But I was wrong, because right before my very eyes he shot himself and fell to the ground in a mess of blood. I had no choice, but to end it myself, the way he always dreamed I would. Jim was smart, having used you, Lestrade and against me, knowing that I care for the three of you more than most..." Sherlock closed his eyes. "That's when I called you, admitting to be a fake, lying and telling you what Jim and his men wanted to hear. That's when I fell, to protect the individuals dear to me. But it wasn't about the fall; it was about the way it was done.

You see, I did fall, that was me skyrocketing through the air. Moriarty had his plan but I had a plan beyond any other...One to fully solve the final problem. On getting off the phone with you, a laundry truck was pulled up before the building. Below on the side walk was a marking, four lines identifying exactly where I was supposed to land if I fell. At the right moment, once they saw me throw the phone to the side, it was a signal indicating the help was needed. You see, before going up on the roof top, I had asked molly for assistance. Of course she agreed to help, and gathered a few other random pedestrians, not just pedestrians, but believers, fans of mine who knew I wasn't a fake. I designated my fall and stepped off, making sure to land right inside of the laundry truck. Inside was a Molly who tossed me back out. Which is why I landed the way I did. See when you fall, you would land on your front, but I landed on my side. Once I hit the ground, the man on the bike behind you made it so you fell and hit your head, of course not enough to harm you but to make it so it was hard to focus. The fans that played along linked arms around my body, placing the blood on the ground and on my head where I had fallen. Once you came over to check my pulse, people had been pulling you back so that I had a chance to take the ball I was toying with earlier and place it under my arm, which causes your pulse to flatten on the pressure point connected to the wrist. Soon I was taken away and brought to my mother's house, Mycroft being in the ambulance as well, and that's where I had stayed for all this time.

I had to make sure Moriarty knew I had died. I had to make sure you, along with the others, were safe. Even so." Sherlock Opened his eyes and looks down at the ball in his hands which he got out of his pocket, the same blue ball from before he fell, the one he used to stop his pulse "I didn't stop checking up on you, John. I saw you at my grave...numerous times...I've wanted to show myself but, I knew it would have been dangerous for the both of us." John stood up and rubs his temples, trying to process all of this information at once.

"Couldn't you of gotten Mycroft to at least tell me you weren't buried six feet under?" John shook his head with a sigh. A part of him wanted to cry, he was confused but very happy. Though his solider side refused to let him. Sherlock keep his eyes on John as he paced back and forth. He removed his fingers from his lips them stood up. He walked towards John, but stopped before he could get in his personal space.

"I couldn't take the chance."

"Lestrade blamed himself for your death. He wouldn't even mention your name to me for a whole year. He grew a beard and left his wife Sherlock!"

"Well that is unfortunate." Sherlock placed a hand on John's back. His skin making contact with John's soft fabric.

"I had to go on anti-depressants, four psychiatrists, and a few suicide attempts." Sherlock stops, moving his eyes to their corners as if trying to look behind him. His slim back now faced John so he couldn't see the hurt he held in his blue eyes. Even so, he did what he could do best, stay silent. " , sh-she lost all this weight." John's voice grew silent after those words though. "You do know what happened to her?"

"By the sound of your voice and the way you became distant with your words, she's…"

"She got nicked at a store a year back. They got the man so justice was served but still." Sherlock let out a sigh as he headed to the kitchen. The kitchen was now rid of all of Sherlock's tools and dead corpses. Oh how fun that was to explain to the garbage man. John wiped his eyes from the "So where are you going to stay now?"

"If it isn't a problem...I would like to stay with my closest friend...Assuming that he doesn't exactly hate me..."

"I don't hate you Sherlock; you just gave me a scare is all. Of course you can stay here. In fact, come with me." John led Sherlock to his room, taking out the bronze key from on top of the door before opening it. Dust filled in the air and spider webs hanged. John let out a cough as he walked in, turning on the light once Sherlock entered.

"You kept everything the same." His eyes went to the boxes in the corner. Four boxes could never hold all of his stuff, but it was polite of John to keep some of his things. The next thing his eyes went to was his bed. It was made perfectly. Corners tucked in at all. John must have slept in his bed once or twice. A sort of sad feeling came over Sherlock as he began to think of what John must of went through while no one was looking.

"I know how you don't like people touching your stuff. Sherlock there is something we should talk abo" John's sentence was cut off by Sherlock pulling the smaller man into a hug. From the rarity it something like this happening, John could tell how upset he was. Just by how he held his body, how his slender arms shook beneath his shirt, how his breath became faster, as if holding something back.

"I apologize John...for all I've done...for basking in the shadows like a stranger..." Sherlock stays there for another minute before breaking the hug but keeping a hand on John's shoulder. "Now what was it you had to tell me?"

John looked up at Sherlock for a moment, before shaking his head and licking his lips. "Yes, I-I have someone living with me. Now I want you to be nice to them. Make them feel welcomed."

"You have someone living in our flat?"

"Well it was just my flat at the time, don't bring dead bodies home."

"Oh no no no. John!"

"It's a girl Sherlock, her name is Mary. She's really sweet and very pretty."

"And what difference does that make?"

"None. I am just asking you to be nice to her. She's is really emotional."

"Then let her go home. I'm sure she won't mind since she's a friend."

"Actually she is my girlfriend; we've been together for almost two years now." Sherlock didn't stay to hear John's sab stories. Instead he walked back towards the living room. "You were dead Sherlock; I needed someone to talk to."

"Where's my skull?" Sherlock looked around the fireplace. John lifted his arms then letting them fall.

"Mary said guest would turn their noses at it." Sherlock fell into his chair and rolled his eyes.

" Mary is it? I take it she's about five foot three, holding a bit of more weight than needed but isn't big at all, very pretty face, strange for most London woman. Has a splendid personality, software spoken, horrible cook from the peeling wall paper in the kitchen. And enjoys animals."

"Sherlock, stop. You can't do that around her."

"But why? It saves the time of getting to know one another don't you think?"

"You can't just go around and say things like that to some people. They get scared." Sherlock's eyes went to the fireplace once more. Some mysteries and a book about Sherlock Holmes himself rested there.

"A fan?"

"She read my blog."

"I assumed."

"You always assume Sherlock." John taps his fingers on the arm rest. "Well with Moriarty gone, his men killed, and you can't work on any cases. . What will you do now? … You aren't going to work on any cases correct?"

"I have to stay low for now. So no not yet. I suppose I'll stay house held" John nodded in approval as he stood up, going to his bag of groceries before putting them up. "I wasn't going to come back you know." John held the box of Total in his hands before putting up.

"Then why did you come back?"

"Because of you." The words made John's stomach turn a bit.

"You didn't have to come back if you didn't want to." No reply was returned from Sherlock. He was now just staring out into space. His mind deep in thought. "Well I am going to have a hot shower." He walked over to Sherlock and handed him the remote. "Here, also your laptop should be over there somewhere." John walked away but turned on one heel. "Also Sherlock don't tell everyone you are alive just yet. Let it take its time."

"Weren't you going to bath?" A smirk came to Sherlock's lips as John nodded his head up with a 'ah' look on his face. John turned to leave and headed up the stairs.

The bathroom was newly done as well. New wallpaper and a shower head now. John turned on the shower as he began to mumble to himself. "Mary shouldn't be home till 4. Just enough time for me to call and explain" John then began to remove his clothing, letting it fall to the ground.

Sherlock sat back and let out a sigh. He looked around the room, examining every little thing down to a dust spec. He sat up and looked at his hands, and then at the pictures of him and john they had taken once in front of the hospital. Besides those pictures though were some of John and his new girlfriend. From the scenery it was vacation pictures only. Mrs. Hudson was in some of them as well. In all the pictures, John had this happy smiling face. Not look of sadness what so ever was in his eyes.

John was up in the shower cleaning his body of the sweat and confusion. He was thinking about everything now; about Sherlock, about Mary, was she going to like him, or was she going to hate him. As much as he wanted to believe that Sherlock and Mary would get along just fine, he knew how much of a smart ass Sherlock was.

John ran his fingers through his blond hair which had a hint of brown in it. Washing out the shampoo from his hair. In utter relaxation till he heard a scream then a crash.

((Well that was tedious. Okay so chapter one is up and now on word to chapter two! The next chapter will have the following;

Mary meeting Sherlock

Sherlock and his 'normal' life.

Sherlock remeeting Lestrade

His first case (?)

I don't really know about the case thing yet. Since it was terribly written out when I and my friend did this. So we shall see. Please review and what not. I will try to have this typed up and updated before you guys know it. Though I like to have long chapters. If you are here for Johnlock and Johnlock only. . My God be with you because you have a very long time. If you are here for MorMor. You have a very very very very long time and a few heartbreaks on the way. If you have any questions or concerns please message me on here

Or at

Le'tumblr page.

Thank you for reading!))