I don't own Sherlock, if I did we would have a Season Three by now.
This is just an idea of what might happen after the fall. This is my first Sherlock fic that I have actually written down, so the characters might not be perfect.
Enjoy!
"Good evening John!" Mrs. Hudson greeted as she was heading out.
"Mrs. Hudson," John replied with a smile. They engaged in a quick conversation, with Mrs. Hudson telling him she would be out late. John smiled and waved as she hurried off. As soon as the door shut the smile ran from his face, and he began to look tired.
He limped up the stairs leaning against the door to the flat as he shut it, his leg giving slightly. He reached out and grabbed the cane he stored close to the door, hidden by the jackets in front of it. He limped in to the kitchen; scientific tools littered the room, from the top they looked clean but the dust around their bases showed how unused they were.
John leaned on his cane as he fixed a pot of tea. It had become sort of a secret, he mused. He didn't have to use at as first, his attention trained on clearing, well clearing his name. He hadn't noticed it until he had cleared it, with the help of Mycroft.
After that his days became empty, no longer having to run around London, facing criminals, or trying to get him to stop keeping toes and heads in the refrigerator. So he got another job, everyday he worked from 8 in the morning to 8 at night. John sighed as his tea was finished. He limped over to the sofa, the same sad look on his face.
The flat hadn't changed, everything was more or less still in the same place he had left it. The skull still resided on the mantel place, but was given a weekly dusting. John suspected that Mrs. Hudson came up to the flat and dusted everything once a week, he knew he hadn't. He sighed stretching out on the sofa, much like the way he used to. It had become a routine, he would come home fix a pot of tea and then lay on the sofa staring at the ceiling lost in his own thoughts until he fell asleep. He rarely posted anything on his blog, even at his therapist's urging.
No one would have guessed that John was depressed, or still depressed. He went to work with a smile; he was friendly to his patients and his coworkers. On occasion he would go out for drinks, but not on dates. He had stopped going on those the day, well the day he left. His smile fooled many, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade and anyone else he happened to see on his rare visits to the police station.
John assumed Mycroft knew, hell, he had probably even seen his case file. He knew that Mycroft had probably seen her notes. Is still in denial, he doesn't believe that Sherlocke is dead even if he says it. Claims to have spoken with him.
He never mentioned that again, probably do to the medication she had subscribed him to 'take' whenever he 'saw' Sherlock. Not that he listened, he found him helpful. He stared at the ceiling running his newest ideas. Trying to figure out an idea of how he survived. He had spent about a month going through Sherlock's own website, trying to pick up any hints or ways to figure it out.
He began to wonder if it wasn't Sherlock who hit the ground, he hadn't been able to accompany his body anywhere, much to his protest. He instead went up to the roof top. Where he found Moriarty, who he angrily kicked him, he had even thought for a moment of throwing him over the side of the building. It was the first time he saw Sherlock.
"Don't be daft," Sherlock had said. John spun to see the tall man. "Toss him over the side and no one will believe it was suicide." He said moving to stand up on the ledge.
"So you didn't jump," John smiled. Sherlock turned to look at him.
"You'll just have to figure it out," Sherlock said with a cocky grin. With a quick back he stepped over the edge.
"Sherlock!" John yelled hurrying over to look over the ledge. He stared in disbelieve at the empty area below.
John supposed that was why he was hung up on trying to figure it out. Sherlock had appeared in odd moments, occasionally offering bits of advice. John found it quite comforting, his therapist didn't. John sighed sipping his now cold tea.
He shifted through thoughts and ideas. He had run his first idea into the ground, but almost all the other ideas sounded crazy. John had watched Sherlock as he fell, making it impossible for them to pull him into the building and tossing a look alike out. Sherlock hitting the pavement would make it harder to identify, so maybe a different person, in Sherlock's clothing jumped. It was a closed casket funeral.
John sighed looking at the clock. 11:30 and he still hadn't fallen asleep. He turned back to the ceiling. Maybe Sherlock did jump, John's thoughts stopped. He isn't dead, John snapped at himself.
"John," The familiar deep voice greeted.
"Sherlock," John replied still staring at the ceiling. "Let me guess-," He said stopping as he turned to look at him. "Sherlock?" He asked stun, sitting up.
This Sherlock was different then the other Sherlock's he had seen. He was leaning on a cane, his hair was longer than normal, and instead of his usual scarf, coat, and suit, he wore dusty work clothes. John noticed that he looked slightly nervous.
"John," Sherlock said again. "I'm not dead," He added awkwardly.
"I," John said pausing standing up. He warily reached out his hand collided with Sherlock, instead of gliding through. "I can see that," He swallowed. He hand still on Sherlock's chest. "Sorry," He added returning his arm to his side. "Tea?" He asked trying to break the silence.
"Sounds nice," Sherlock smiled awkwardly. He sat down on the sofa, he was home. He looked over at John, he didn't realize how much he had missed looking over and seeing the man. He eyed the cane John was leaning on, he had hoped John's limp wouldn't return. At the same time he was glad it did, it meant that the army doctor needed Sherlock as much as Sherlock needed him.
"Right then," John replied grabbing his own cane. John poured himself another cup and fixed Sherlock's. "Here you go," He said handing it to Sherlock. Sherlock and sipped it.
"Perfect," He commented catching John off guard.
"What you couldn't get a nice cup of tea where ever you went?" John laughed.
"It wasn't a priority," Sherlock replied.
"Where did you go?" John asked curiously.
"I was hunting down Moriarty's web," Sherlock replied. "And I've finally finished," He added.
"I thought Moriarty's web collapsed with him," John stated. Sherlock shook his head.
"It was more of reinforcement," Sherlock replied carefully.
"And you jumping, what did that have to do with anything?" John continued.
"Moriarty killed himself so that I would have to jump to save you from the assassins," Sherlock replied simply, trying not to set John off. He was quite shocked that the army doctor hadn't punched him. He had been expecting it, counting on it almost. For a second, the idea that his Watson had changed ran across his mind, and for some odd reason it frightened him.
"You did that for me?" John asked shocked.
"Well, you and Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade," Sherlock replied his cheeks becoming hot.
"Thank you then," John commented his mind wrapping around the idea that Sherlock had jumped to save him.
"You aren't angry?" Sherlock blurted out before he could stop himself. "I did make you believe I was dead." He added. John stared at him.
"No you didn't," John replied quietly staring into his empty tea cup. "Have you told anyone else?" He said moving on. Sherlock shook his head.
"Mycroft always knew," Sherlock replied. "He promised he would keep an eye on you," He added. "And Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade," He added quickly.
"How did you do it?" John suddenly asked, catching Sherlock off guard.
"Do what?' Sherlock questioned.
"The jump," John stated. "I've been trying to figure it out, but none of my ideas make any sense, except that you actually jumped." Sherlock said nothing for a moment.
"I jumped," He replied. "We slowed down the jump enough to prevent death, and then I recovered."
"And then went after Moriarty's web," John connected. Sherlock nodded. John timed out a normal persons recovery time, and then figured in Sherlock's stubbornness. "I would have helped," He commented his finger rubbing a small circle on his cup.
"No you couldn't have," Sherlock replied. John's eyes snapped up.
"Sherlock, I was in the damn army! I have had an assassination attempt before," John snapped. "I think I could have helped take down hired guns! Hell, if you told me I probably could have protected myself without having you jump off a damn building." He continued.
"John these were more then hired guns," Sherlock commented. "And there were other factors," He added.
"I am not useless," John commented.
"I never said you were," Sherlock protested.
"You didn't have to, you just left," John replied. "I suddenly had no one; my entire life was wrapped up in your world. Then you left, and my connection to my life was gone," He snapped.
"Don't think that you were the only one who lost their connection," Sherlock snapped back. John sat back for a moment. "You have people at your work place to go to, I don't. I was dead John," He continued. Both of them stared at each other in silence.
"Then it is agreed, no more dying without telling each other." John replied. "And that includes disappearing from the other's life." He added with a sigh.
"Agreed," Sherlock said with a small smile. He was rejoicing inwardly, he had his only friend back.
As for my thoughts, I started to wonder if John would be angry at Sherlock for being alive, and I came up with no. My thoughts were that he would be angry for Sherlock not asking him to help taking down the web. There are some other thoughts that I might be putting into later chapters. However, Sherlock's cane probably isn't what you think it is.
To be the annoying person, reviews might cause it to be finished and posted faster.
I hope you enjoyed it!
