Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It's been over three weeks and I still haven't shaken the angst of that last episode so here's another idea for how things will work out for our dynamic duo.

Part One

"John, why are you ignoring me again?" He'd done this before when Sherlock had infuriated him but that had lasted about five minutes. This comment marked the third hour that he'd been in 221B Baker St. with John yet his numerous attempts to garner attention had fallen flat. John puttered about, going to his room, coming back, going to the kitchen, making tea and finally pausing beside the window to look out over the street. "John, honestly, why do you continue to ignore me? You asked me to not be dead and I'm not."

"That!" John said suddenly, jarring Sherlock with its alarmingly raspy quality. "That, right there, is why."

Mild confusion touched his eyes for a split second before it finally hit him like a ton of bricks. Of course, John hadn't known he'd been listening to him talk at the gravesite. He thought Sherlock was a hallucination. Sherlock, who'd been sitting in his chair bored got up and approached the window. He looked over his friend. Slumped shoulders suggesting both exhaustion and lack of personal interest. Clothes several days old suggests lack of personal hygiene as do the holey socks. Bags under eyes and new wrinkles suggest stress, inability to move on and fixation on clinging to the past. Belief in a hallucination suggests psychological trauma which causes depression, paranoia, anti-socialism and, of course, hallucinations.

Final deduction: total mind fuck. One that Sherlock had caused when he left three years ago.

"You know," John addressed the window. "I thought I'd moved past this. I thought I was done with the hallucinations." He chuckled softly. "So much for that."

"John, I am not a hallucination."

"That's what you always say."

Pursing his lips, Sherlock lifted a handed and tentatively gripped John's shoulder. "Do hallucinations touch you?"

"They do everything. I'm over it now."

"Everything?" Sherlock asked, confused by the implication. He let his hand drop away.

"Oh, are you not going to go to every length to prove you aren't a hallucination?" John turned to look up into those eyes that oscillated every time the light changed. They were pale green now. "That would be a change."

Sherlock gritted his teeth in exasperation. "What is it that I do that makes you think I'm not real?"

"Well, for one thing, you're here. You should be in a coffin under a marble slab."

"I'd be perfectly happy to exhume that body and run a DNA test on it."

John shuddered at the prospect and went on. "You only ever show up when no one but me is around to verify it."

"Where's Mrs. Hudson?"

"On holiday. She needed to get away from my moping."

"Lestrade?"

"Haven't talked to him in a long time."

"Mycroft?"

"The last time I talked to him, I was arrested for assaulting a government official. They won't even take a call if they think it's from me."

"Molly, then. Molly already knows I'm alive since she helped me fake it."

"Oh jeez, not this too." Sherlock looked questioning. "Oh don't play dumb. Hallucinations know what I'm thinking." Sherlock didn't try to deny it this time. He just waited for John to elaborate. "Molly told me she helped fake your death last year."

Sherlock's eyes widened. He'd expected Molly to take that secret to the grave if necessary. "Really," was all he said.

"She said that killing myself was stupid because my reason for doing so was still alive and out there somewhere."

Only the slightest widening of his eyes gave away Sherlock's emotions. "You tried…"

"Not very hard," John replied. "I was tired. I took a bath and then wondered how long I could stay under."

"John," Sherlock whispered.

"That was when Lestrade had enough. He said until l got my act together, he was done."

Sherlock was silent as he looked at John. His hard drive was in danger of frying as he stared into the bloodshot depths of John's eyes. There was so much pain that Sherlock couldn't work out where it all came from, how it got trapped there or what he could do about it. And he needed to do something about it. The small part of him that actually gave a damn about something other than the thrill of the chase demanded he repair the damage. "Come on," he said gripping John's hand.

"Come where?"

"Scotland Yard, of course."

John shook his head and pulled his hand from Sherlock's. "No."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Why not?"

"Because if I go down there of my own accord, Lestrade might get ideas."

"You aren't alone!" Sherlock was getting very annoyed now. His mind was going a million miles an hour, running through every possible outcome of going to the police station. Hell, he might get arrested.

But fixing things with John was more important. And he could always take his friend hostage again.

"Okay," John finally whispered as he looked Sherlock's face.

The man actually gave him a twitch of a smile. "Come on!"

To be continued…

This is only gonna be a two-shot because I'm too tired and sick to work out what I'm doing for my next chapter.

Please review and make me feel better. Plus I'll give you cookies!

Thanks for reading!