*Authors Note Please Read* Hey Sweeties, here we are Part 3. Wow, well, let's make it good, eh? Now what I have planned is that you can read this without have read the past two installments of The New… If that makes any sense, anyway if you do want to read the past two, now, as you may have deduced, Sherlock is back! Yay! I'm not sure what villain will be back (Moriarty?) or even CAM, maybe. Who knows? Anyway I hope you enjoy
Oh and the POVs will change now and then but I'll put lines to show where they change J
Talk later J
-allthewaysweets xoxo
Today was the day. The day. Three years since Sherlock stepped off St. Barts. John's heart ached. He was alone in his dorm and London University, staring at the photo of them they took on their small holiday they took. Sherlock looked so, so… Happy. John had no idea was suicidal. Maybe Moriarty drove him too it on the case. John remembered running through the streets with him one night, the adrenaline pumping through his veins, just him and Sherlock. No one else. John was now studying to be a doctor, next year he would be moving to St. Barts to study to be a solider. Becoming an Army Doctor. John's heart ached even more thinking about St. Barts. John decided to be an Army Doctor soon after Sherlock jumped, save the lives of those saving lives. Harry thought he was just going through a phase, and how he was doing it just to see Dad again. John told her how Dad was in Iraq, and how John was enlisted to head to Afghanistan, Harry tried to convince him not to go there by giving him reasons on how bad the holiday was when they went there last year. John picked up his bags after that and left her. John hadn't seen Harry since. John touched the necklace he wore everywhere he went, the charm around it was the key to 221B Baker Street. Mycroft gave it to him to keep, saying he wouldn't need it anyway. John looked across at the empty mattress across the room, wishing Sherlock was there, studying whatever he would study. Criminology most likely, 'The Science Of Deduction. Being the consulting detective he always talked about, the first one in the world, looking up at him and smiling, Sherlock giving John the smile that melted his heart and made him fall in love with all over again, the smile only Sherlock gave to John, and John replying with the smile he only gave to Sherlock. John Watson wasn't one for believing in dreams coming true, not until that next minute.
There was a knock at the door.
"Mr. Watson? I-I'm sorry to bother you at such an hour, it's Mrs. Kealy, the rooms advisor, I-I have your new roommate, sorry, every where else was full, love, but he says he knows you."
"Ah, ok, coming, just one minute"
"Take your time, love."
John unlocked the door and opened it wide so both of them could enter
John's mouth dropped open, because standing beside Mrs. Kealy was no one other than Sherlock Holmes.
John looked different, very different. Sherlock knew in his mind palace that he would change and grow, but not this muscle wise. Sherlock could see from the slight redness of his eyes that he had been crying recently, then his mind palace recalled that it was the three-year anniversary since he stepped off the roof of St. Barts, he hadn't planned their reunion to be like this, but then again, not many things went to plan. Sherlock the chain around his neck carried the key to 221B, and it was, held, often. John's hair had grown, now covering half his forehead, and was a mess, there were medical study books spread across his bed, like butter spread across bread. He looked tired, very tired.
John closed his mouth and held out a hand, Sherlock took it and shook it
"Sherlock, long time no see."
"Yes."
"Right boys, it seems the introduction is already complete, now, um, John, would you kind staying up for another hour, just while the rest of Sherlock's boxes come up?"
"Of course, happy to help."
John gave Mrs. Kealy a half smile
"Right, boys, I'll leave you too it."
Mrs. Kealy left them and the dimly lightened room. Sherlock strode over to the bare mattress and placed his backpack down and turned towards John.
"John, I—"
John held up a hand
"Sher, please, don't, not right now. I don't even know if this a dream or real, I hope it's real, but, just wait 'till all of your boxes get here, okay?"
John looked up at Sherlock, he had tears in his eyes.
"Okay."
Sherlock lowered his head and sat on the edge of the bare mattress, and John sat on his bed, and lowered his head into his hands. Sherlock felt horrible, he wanted to go over and comfort John, but the boxes started coming in, and both boys helped place the boxes on Sherlock's side of the room, until the very last one. John practically slammed the door behind the last mover man and turned to Sherlock with an expecting look.
"You, you. What the hell? Three years, Sherlock. You let me grieve, I got my life back, piece by piece, and now on the third year anniversary, you just come back swaggering in?! I watched you fall, Sherlock, fall off the rooftop of St. Barts. You better have bloody great explanation for yourself or I'm either gonna bruise you with kisses or bruise you with punches."
"John, I, I-"
"Well?"
Sherlock fell to his knees
"I am so sorry, John, for all of the pain and hurt that I caused you, I was taking down Moriarty's network, he is all around the world John, I had had to stop him, John, had to stop him getting to you."
John's shadow towered over Sherlock's, a hand lifted his chin.
"Why didn't you let me do it with you?"
"He's Moriarty. He would have killed you. Or one of his gunmen."
John stepped away.
"Who knew?"
"Pardon?"
"Who knew you weren't dead, Sherlock? Because you faked your death, at least somebody would've known that you were alive."
"Mycroft."
"Okay."
"And a few of the homeless network."
"What?!"
"And a few-"
"No, you're saying a few of your homeless network deserve to know you're alive apart from me?"
"No."
John huffed and grabbed his jacket that was dangling off a hook on the back of his door.
"Where are you going, John?"
"For a walk."
Without another word the door slammed shut and John was gone.
Sherlock cleared his throat and rose, opening the first box and began to un-pack.
~~O~~
John was grateful he wore a jacket, the cool night air was ice cold, he walked and walked, taking no note of where he was heading, head always to the ground, until his feet landed on a familiar pathway, the pathway to the Gardens, the Gardens held the secret apartment of his and Sherlock's. He could still smell the musty air from two blocks away, he would have to break in, John left the key with 'Sherlock's' body when it was lowered into the grave. John had no idea when the sudden impulse came to go there, but he was already running. Before he even knew it he was outside the door, the exterior was the same as the day he was last here, exactly three years ago. His old rugby stuff was even still inside. John walked around the side until he came to the window that Sherlock always left open. John slid it open with surprisingly ease. He climbed in like he always had. What was left of that living room's furniture was falling apart and will collapse if anyone even tried, it was even dustier from when first came here with Sherlock. John decided to try and at least get his old rugby stuff back. The door to the library was hard to open, very hard. But with a good shove of the shoulder it creaked open slowly, John's mouth dropped open at the sight that laid before him, the entire room was ransacked. The two chairs that sat before the fire were in pieces, books shredded, furniture smashed, his rugby bag was no where to be seen. John walked to the middle of the room, taking in what was once the room that shared so many memories. John had to take a double-take on what was now on the wall, and cover his mouth with his hand to stop himself from puking, John wondered what the foul smell was, and he had found it, neon yellow bright spray paint reading;
I HAVE FOUND YOU AND I AM COMING FOR YOU JOHN WATSON
And nailed to the wall beside it was his old best mate Oliver, shot dead through the head. He remembered Oliver how he was in Sherlock's old ballet class and how he was there for him during his grieving, how John helplessly tried to teach him rugby, how Oliver showed John the wonders of nightclubs spread across London. John didn't waste another moment, he ran through the front door into London's night and straight to Sherlock. John knew what was happening. The game was on. All over again.
*Authors Note Please Read* Hey Sweeties, did you like that chapter? Hopefully you did, and hopefully it made sense, if not, just ask me or if you are up for it, I'll leave some links down below so you can read the past two installments;
The New Kid and The New Case, anyway I am very excited to write up what's gonna happen next, and if you can, pretty, pretty, pretty please with a murder on top can you please comment or review your thought of this chapter? I would appreciate it so much! Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoyed it, and always, talk to you guys later J
-allthewaysweets xoxo