Sherlock's return had gone fairly smoothly, as far as he was concerned. John hadn't punched him, at least, although he put that down to his physical state at the time.
Staggering back to 221B after three years was odd, to say the least. Part of him had started to think he'd never be finished with Moriarty's web. It seemed endless and misleading, with missing parts here and there, but now it was gone.
Or, so he hoped. But Sherlock had had enough, and he was coming home.
John's face when he opened the door was the oddest mix of emotions Sherlock had ever seen before. Anger, and shock and joy and most likely three or four things Sherlock couldn't tell you the name of because they weren't important.
"I'm sorry, John, it was necessary, no time to explain I've got—" but John had already looped an arm around Sherlock's waist and was helping him up the stairs, asking him about injuries and how they'd happened.
God, Sherlock thought, looking over John, I had no idea he would... John had lost weight, a lot of weight, so eating a lot less, and he was sleeping less as well, though not by choice. No girlfriends, and, on that matter, he doubted much human contact aside from keeping him sane. And his nightmares had returned. All things considered, Sherlock was in a much worse state than John was, but he never suspected, never considered, that he was that important to the army doctor. He'd given John a year to get over his death, but here he was.
Still... grieving? Mourning? Sherlock wasn't sure what you'd call it, as he'd never had reason to do it. "I'm sorry," he muttered again, as John put him down on the couch.
"Shut up or I'll punch you, bleeding or not," said John, though the words didn't come off as harsh as intended.
That night, Sherlock slept better than he had in years.
But two moths later, Sherlock knew something was up. He wasn't about to act on it rashly, of course, because the more he found out the less he liked. Moriarty seemed to be coming back, even after his confirmed death. Hell, Sherlock had seen him shoot himself in the face, and yet every crime they solved seemed to be leading to a bigger one. A maze of sorts, and Sherlock didn't like not knowing where he was going.
John told him in was all in his head, but John couldn't see things like he did, couldn't see the bigger picture, the connections between the crimes. If he wasn't so worried about Moriarty's return (even if more for the sake of his friends than his own), he would've marveled at it. It must've taken so long to plan out, painstaking preparation from months, or possibly even years in advance.
Although that was just it, wasn't it? Years in advance, they were too busy dealing with Sherlock to plan things like these. It just wasn't happening.
And then there was John.
John kept telling him it was all in his head, that Moriarty couldn't come back, again and again.
On such a conversation, Sherlock snapped, without fulling thinking about it, "You thought I was dead, and Irene as well, so don't tell me death will stop Moriarty from doing what he pleases!"
There was a slight pause, and for a moment, Sherlock could've sworn there was a mischievous glint in John's eye, right before he exploded. "You jumped off a bloody building and disappeared for three years! You didn't even tell me you were alive! I had to bury you Sherlock, I had to speak at your funeral!"
John was only getting himself worked up and they both knew it, but Sherlock stared at him impassively, waiting for the moment he'd be done. "I have buried more than enough people in my lifetime, and you go on and make me do it again. Even a simple text would've been nice, what did you think I'd do, make it public? 'Hey look I got a text from a dead man' oh yeah, that'd go over great." John stopped for breath, still fuming, but instead of saying anymore, he turned his back on Sherlock and stormed to his bedroom.
Sherlock sighed, resting his hands on the arm of the armchair and leaning back a bit. He deserved to be yelled at, he knew, and he supposed this was making up for nothing of the sort in the first week he was back. But Sherlock was more concerned about the look a split second before yelling at him.
It was pride.
That was the first clue that John Watson was not himself. And, as time went on, little by little his friend's behaviour altered. Just slightly, not so much that anyone would notice.
But he was starting to catch up with Sherlock's deductions, cutting him off mid-sentence in a way that suggested he'd simply spoke out loud. He'd muttered a hasty "Sorry" the first time it had happened, but Sherlock had stopped examining the body and started examining John. After a minute, he muttered, "That's correct," and there it was again.
That smug look of pride that was so different from what he usually saw on John's face was enough. Enough for Sherlock to keep tabs on John's behaviour changes, enough for him to double-check John's sleeping patterns, but quietly, quietly. John couldn't know he was investigating, because if something was afoot...
Added with the connected crimes recently, he had to be very, very careful if someone unexplained happened, whether it came from someone he trusted or not.
Also, it seemed there was a secondary reason for Sherlock not to straight-out ask John, and to keep his deductions a secret. He refused to acknowledge its existence, because it was ridiculous and useless and full of sentiment. But it was there.
Sherlock had already lost John's trust once, and he wasn't about to do it again.
Because it was starting to come to a point where Sherlock needed John there, or else he would come mad, or perhaps turn into a serial killer himself. Which, of course, wasn't too bad a way to go.
Or at least, it hadn't been before he met John.
Either way, something was up with John, and whether it took him a few days or several years (though if his skills failed him that much then he might as well abandon all hope), he was going to figure it out.
So here we go. This is your advanced warnings; this is going to contain Johnlock, but it's not going to be happy or fluffy and more than likely it will be used to taunt somebody. As well as that, this story is fulfilling my need for a dark!John fic, as well as trying to improve my writing from Sherlock's point of view. Enjoy and stuff.
