John sat in his chair, like he did so often the last months. "These damn bullet holes." he thought, while tears were rolling down his cheeks. 6 months passed since he stood on Sherlock's grave. Until now he hasn't got the heart to remove all the things, which painfully remind him of him.
From time to time Mrs Hudson showed up and wanted him to force to eat something. John hardly ate or slept for months. He even wasn't able to leave the house. Also Greg tried to convince him to leave Baker Street for an hour or two, but the memories of Sherlock, hidden in London, were still too painfully.
His phone vibrated:
Let's go out tonight. You need some distraction. I know it's hard, but I think he would want you to move on. GL
John was staring at his phone. He knew that he had to chance something. He dried his tears and replied:
Okay. I'm on my way to the Pub. JW
One hour later he and Greg were drinking a beer. "How are you?" the detective asked carefully. But John didn't seem to hear him. "Why are they so happy? It seems that everybody has forgotten him." "I can't do that, I'm sorry." he said to Greg, took his jacket and went outside.
Back in Baker Street he sat down on his chair and looked through the empty flat. It wasn't alone the fact that he wouldn't be able to see Sherlock again; there were some other things, which made him sad. Things or better feeling, he wasn't aware of, before Sherlock died. "I love you." he whispered. Yes, he John Watson loved Sherlock Holmes. "Why haven't I told him? Why on earth, was it such a problem for me, what people would think?" He started crying again and with tears in his eyes, not knowing what on the other side of London happened today, he felt asleep.
A tall dark-haired man entered the darkened office of Mycroft Holmes. "Here you are. How was your journey?" "Well I don't think, I'm here to exchange courtesies." "So you already know why I have called you back?" "Isn't it obvious?" the man in the dark coat replied. "Of course."
Sherlock Holmes knew exactly why his brother had called him back to England. There was just one possibility. He found Sebastian Moran. In the last 6 month he travelled around the word, of course at Mycroft's expense. "Where is he? Are we going to arrest him today?" he asked impatiently." "Calm down, Sherlock. We don't want to happen this in a rush. You are going to get back to him early enough." "Coming back to whom?" Sherlock asked, but he already knew the answer.
The last 6 months were almost unbearable for him. Separated of him. The first time he realized that he missed John, was in a restaurant in Dublin. How was that possible? Such ordinary things like feelings? He tried to ignore it, but the harder he tried, the stronger his feelings got. Several times a week he wrote Mycroft to get some new information about his investigations. Everything would have gone faster, if he could have helped, for sure, but it was too dangerous. Too dangerous, that someone could find out that he's still alive. Too dangerous for John.
Mycroft grinned and answered: "He's going to carry out a job tomorrow. I was able to get a spy into his organisation. He will give us all information. Of course, you want to be present?" "But of course."
With a smile the dark-haired man left the office. "Tomorrow", he thought, "tomorrow finally the time has come."
John woke up, as his phone bleeped. He looked at his watch. 10 past 10. He must have slept through the whole night, like he hadn't done for a while. He stood up and took his phone.
Come, if convenient. If inconvenient come anyway. 11am St. James Park. Could be dangerous.
For a second John's heart stopped. "How is that possible? This must be a joke. But who else knows these sentences, which brought us together so closely?" He threw his phone in the corner. "I'm going to ignore that." he decided. Nevertheless he found himself leaving Baker Street at half past 10. "That's ridiculous." he thought. Either he was just curious or he wishes this to happen so badly, John didn't really know why he went to St. James Park. He sat down and waited. "This is ridiculous!" he thought again and prepared him to leave, as a voice, which he hadn't heard for 6 long month, said:
"I said dangerous and here you are." John' heart stopped for the second time today. "I owe you so many apologies. Believe me I.." Sherlock wasn't able to speak further, because John's punched him into his face. "How could you do that? Do you know what you have done to me?" He punched him again. "John, let me explain, it wasn't.." John raised his hand again, but this time Sherlock was able to catch his hand. For a second or two, they just starred at each other and then John kissed him. He braced himself to be pushed away, but it didn't happen. Quite the opposite happened, Sherlock retorted the kiss. Sherlock felt John's tears on his lips. The world seemed to stop moving. Slowly they detached from each other. "John, I have to explain you a lot." Sherlock whispered. "Yes, you have," John answered and took the hand of the dark-haired man, "you have, but first we are going home."