Hanging by a thread
Chapter One
This was too much. Thirty minutes ago John never expected to sit opposite his best friend, which the doctor believed to be dead. But now Sherlock was here, looking at John and trying to read his expression. And what he saw was confusion and anger.
The detective could understand this to a certain degree. "Ok. I understand how you survived this. But- Ah no, let me talk, no interfering.", John exclaimed as Sherlock opened his mouth to interrupt the blonde, " But why? Why did you jump when Moriarty already killed himself? You could have just walked down from the rooftop and everything would have been right. WE could have made everything right. And still you preferred to jump to your death. At least that´s what it looked like .
This was horrid enough but you decided to go. To not contact me, not utter even a word that you are still alive. I am supposed to be your best and only friend, right? Then why did you let me suffer? Why Sherlock, tell me." In his fury John has stood up from his chair and paced the room.
Sighing Sherlock started to explain. "Of cause there is a reason why I jumped other then my hurt pride. Yes Moriarty killed himself, but that was the problem. He threatened…"
"Threatened? He threatened you? Yeah, what did he want to do? Blow your ash-collection all over London?"
"No it-"
"Ah or did he told you he would smash your favorite skull? Ha, threatened you…." The former soldier shook his head in disbelieve.
"You are aware that this still doesn´t explain why I jumped after Moriarty was dead."
John stopped and turned to look at Sherlock. The calm look on his best friends face bewildered him. "Don´t you dare lecture me now! You made a mistake; you fooled me for nearly three years! You know what? I moved on. It was hard but I did. And know what? I´m not planning to come back. It was tough but I´m happy now. For once, don´t ruin my life, will you?"
As John spoke, Sherlock turned his look on the floor. So he ruined John's life? But he needed the action after returning from Afghanistan, he needed a flat. It dawned to Sherlock that maybe this was all John could want from him. Not his friendship, his company. How often had the doctor complained about the behavior of his flat mate? About the texts he had send him, just to convince him to do something for Sherlock. He has been so selfish… But John did suffer over his death, right? Or at least he said so. Then why…?
To the consulting detective this whole matter was so confusing, his well-hidden feelings towards John adding to it.
His train of thoughts stopped as Sherlock heard the front door slamming shut.
Holmes looked around, John was nowhere to see.
He just left.