John limped through central London taking in his surroundings. It had been one and a half years since Sherlock's death but it still hadn't sunk in. he could still hear him around the flat, playing his violin, searching for his secret supply of cigarettes or storing new body parts in the fridge. Sometimes, it was like he never really left at all.

"Come on John." he said to himself "Get over it already, he's not coming back, he's dead." For some reason it didn't make him feel any better. The ringing tone sounded from the phone in his pocket.

"Hello?"

"Hello John." John new that voice all too well.

"what do you want Mycroft. I'm not really in the mood to talk."

"yes of course but, I think you may want to see this."

"what is it?"

"Him." The line clicked as Mycroft ended the call. John new who he meant, Sherlock. Mycroft had called him many times over the past year, every time there was a suspected sighting of Sherlock he got a call. Even though he knew it was not possible, he could not help but feel a rushing sense of hope and joy, Sherlock might still be out there. He limped over to the road and held out his hand.

"Taxi!" he yelled and as one screeched into the spot in front of him, he opened the door, adjusted his cane so it would fit through and hopped in.

"So Mycroft." John said as he walked into Mycroft Holmes' office. "Another sighting then."

"Hello John." Said the most familiar voice John had ever known. He looked around in surprise to see, him, standing there as if he had never left.

"Sherlock." John whispered in complete disbelief "how-."

"Long story, don't plan on explaining any time soon. So! How are things goi-." He stopped short when he noticed John's cane. "Your limp came back, I told you it's all in your head."

"DON'T GIVE ME ADVICE!" John shouted at the top of his lungs and Sherlock backed away.

"John I-."

"I DO NOT! WANT TO SPEAK TO YOU SHERLOCK HOLMES!"

"John, I did what I had to do, I never meant to hurt you."

"NEVER MEANT TO HURT ME! I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD SHERLOCK! MRS HUDSON THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO KILL MYSELF AND AT TIMES I THOUGHT I WAS TOO!" John had been holding all this in for almost two years, but for some reason, letting it out didn't make him feel better. "Why did you leave?" he asked, quieter this time, he wanted to run to Sherlock and wrap his arms around him but he wouldn't let his legs budge.

"I left because I had to John and no reason other than that." Sherlock looked right into John's eyes, he had never looked so distressed, so alone. He knew he had hurt him but it had to be done.

"John I'm not staying, I just came in to see you but I have to leave, tonight."

"No! Why? Why so soon?"

"Because no one can know I'm alive, you shouldn't even know but I had to see you, I had to give you something." His voice trailed off and he stared at the ground.

"What, what could you possibly want to give me?" Sherlock looked right into John's questioning eyes and walked towards him until he was standing so close to him, John could feel Sherlock's breath on his face. He put a hand on his face.

"John Hamish Watson, I love you." He bent down and kissed John gently on the lips. John stiffened, then relaxed into him, dropping the cane and standing on the tips of his toes so he was eye-level with Sherlock. He put his lips to Sherlock's ear and whispered.

"I love you too."