Chapter 1

Sorry I`m late, I tried

Sherlock wasn`t sure, but he was fairly convinced that what he was feeling could be considered as a broken heart. He was, after all, new with sentiment and all of which came with it. He had lived a happy life without any sentiment before; yes I think you could denominate it happy…at least it wasn`t unhappy. Why was it that after meeting John everything changed? He understood sentiment, at least the chemistry part, so why couldn't he stop his mind from constantly flooding his head with wonders and hopes about John, even in the lowest moments of his chase he would find himself thinking about those simple, but meaningful moments on Baker Street. Those memories were actually the strongest fuel Sherlock found in order to keep going, because he was a strong man, but even the greatest man, in situations of despair, longed for home, and home was John. He couldn`t blame the man from moving on; wasn`t that what he wanted to…to see John finally happy and safe? That were the main reasons he did what he did, why he faked his death and disappeared from John`s life, that`s why he had dedicated the last 3 years to chase down Moriarty`s web of criminals, isn't?

But still hurt. Sherlock now understood that he wanted John to be happy, but he wanted the army doctor to be happy with him, not with someone else, especially not with that women John was living with now. It was selfish, he knew that, but it`s not like if he could control it. He couldn`t even totally grasp the diversity of feelings he was having at that moment. So this`s a bit of anger and is that jealousy? How does people deal with all of this! It`s so exhausting! Sherlock founded it distracting and, being only fair, painful.

Mycroft didn`t tell him; not in one of the several conversations had Mycroft even slightly commented him that John was in a serious relationship, very serious. For the looks of it Sherlock deduced they have been going out for moths, if not years, and were now living together. He knew John, so he was sure that the relationship meant a lot because he wouldn`t take lightly the decision of moving in with someone he was going out. However, Sherlock couldn`t tell how serious the relationship really was: are they just trying the waters to see how it goes? Or are they in a let`s-have-a-puppy-and-be-very-committed stage? He couldn`t deduce all of that from where he was standing, not form the street in front of John`s new flat…no, John`s and Mary`s flat.

It was starting to rain, what a cliché, really. He couldn`t help to laugh about the irony of finding himself in the classic romantic movie`s scenario in which on of the characters finds out the person he wants it`s already taken and happy with someone else, and I`m not even into telly. Water drops were falling down from Sherlock`s soaked hair, the only refuge he found near by was a tree, but still he was getting really wet. His curls were a bit of a mess sticked to his forehead and he knew that if he didn`t go to a dryer place he would probably catch a cold. Nonetheless, Sherlock couldn`t find strength enough to move; his brain was telling him he had to go because it was almost masoquism to stand there and be just a mere whiteness of the happy life John was having without him; but somehow the signal from his brain got lost somewhere between his head and his feet, because he didn't move an inch.

He had a plan before, when he was unaware of the actual situation John was in. He planned to go into John`s new flat and surprise him; hi John, I`m back, as you can obviously observe I`m not dead. It`s not the best line to greet after so long without seeing each other, but it would definitely break the ice of such awkward encounter. Sherlock wasn`t sure what he should expect, a punch maybe, or a very long stare, he had pictured a thousand possible developments, but never the one that he was witnessing: a new John with a new girlfriend in his new place, that was a surprise. And it took a lot to impress Sherlock Holmes, but he knew that if anyone could do it, it was John.

Sherlock was still deliberating weather to go or if he should face John and explain him the truth, maybe he would understand and everything will be just as before all of this happened, maybe he`ll just leave Mary and come with me…please John, choose me. But he knew the odds, he didn`t know if John felt the same way he did, in fact, he doubt it. He was an insufferable man, always chasing a new obsession and addicted to the thrill of it, being bored was worst than death itself. He was a very hard man to get along with, let`s not say to love, of course John wouldn`t feel the same way, it was already a mystery why the man considered Sherlock a friend; if he could trust in Mycroft`s words, John even considered Sherlock his best friend. He had never been someone`s best friend and now he was asking John more than that? There was no doubt anymore, he was going to get punched by John.

The rain didn`t seem to be having any soon end. He could feel his socks getting wet and his coat wasn`t doing much anymore to prevent his clothes from adhere to his body. Sherlock knew what he had to do; he had to let know John he was alive, he owed him at least the truth. The whole feelings part was better left aside, at least for know, but he didn`t want to prolong his already long wait to be able to talk to John again. He lifted his coat`s collar and went out from his refuge into the pouring rain.

John wasn`t sure, but he could have swear for a moment that the man standing on the street in front his flat was Sherlock. Of course is not him, you idiot! It wasn`t strange for him to imagine he had seen Sherlock; it wasn`t as often as before, but he could still see him form time to time, on a cab that passed in front of him, on the corner outside his job, in the café he went to grab lunch sometimes or even sulking on the couch as he used to do.

He looked at Mary, the woman, my girlfriend, that was living with him. By the look on her face he could notice she knew what was going through John`s mind. John had met Mary seven months after Sherlock`s death; at the beginning she was just another sad pair of eyes that gave John one of those pitiful looks he had gotten so use to, but with time he found in her a pillar to support him, he got use to having her close and now he was fairly sure he needed her. Mary was good, Mary made thighs less painful.

The man outside was still standing there, even when it started raining he was there looking at his window. John couldn`t perfectly distinguish the man, but he couldn`t get out of his mind the idea that he looked so much like Sherlock. He left his mind drift with crazy ideas of sharing the flat with Sherlock instead of Mary, because on those dreams Sherlock wasn't death, on those dreams he had never left John, he was right there beside John, as he should have been. Of course John couldn't let himself get all wrap up into his daydreaming, it just wasn't healthy to be fantasising with an impossible reality; or at least that`s what his therapist had said. "It`s good to reminisce and dream, John, but don't forget that we need you in here too, your reality and life needs you wide awake." So he had decided to do his best, but he was only human, he would still think and wonder about Sherlock a lot, but mainly when he was alone, that was pretty often. In those alone moments his "reality and life" could wait.

John switched his look from the man outside to Mary. She was a pretty woman; to be absolutely honest, he wasn`t sure why she was sticking with him. Why did she stayed after finding out about the nightmares that interrupted most of John`s nights, why was she settling with only the rests of a man? Because John knew he wasn`t the same than before, so why had Mary dedicated 2 years of her life to be with John? was she expecting to repair him? Maybe she thought that with time she`d make John better, like if nothing happened, like if Sherlock never died. John thought that it was time to tell Mary that it was better for her to give up; there are some things that leave a scar where no one can see and those are the ones that hurt the most and also the ones that don`t go away. He knew he had to tell Mary that this was all she was going to get if she stayed, but he didn`t want to loose her. Maybe she already knows that and she decided to stay…just maybe. John really wanted to believe that, because if she went away too, what was John going to do then, he didn`t know if he could wake up to his nightmares alone after getting used to having someone beside him every night.

Mary was reading the paper while drinking tea and eating John`s favourites biscuits, she had managed to get to know John so well in such a short period of time. Like every Saturday they would have breakfast and then go to a park or a place where they could quietly rest until they were hungry enough to have lunch near by, so they could return walking to their flat on time to catch some shows or a movie on the telly. It has been like that for a long time now, and John didn`t mind, he found that having a routine was actually good for him, that way he kept himself busy most of the time, his mind safe from wandering too much.

When John looked outside again, the man outside had left. He couldn't help trying to remember the last time he talked with Mycroft; it wasn`t that long ago really, he didn`t know why, but he heard more from the Holmes brother now than when Sherlock was living with him. He assumed Mycroft was worried John was still partly blaming him for what happened or he might think John could do something crazy, but John wasn`t that kind of man. He tried to keep some sort of social life, just enough to keep his friends calm and not to worry…that much. One night out with Greg to get a pint on a bar, another day for visit her sister that was much better after her rehab and being with Mary, of course. Mycroft would text him reminding him of things like he had to go to work, or that bread was missing from his kitchen (how did he knew that, beats John), moreover, his bank account was always froze at the same amount. He had to recognize he was a bit thankful for that; the first moths after Sherlock`s death he barely left the house, let alone go to work or do the grocery shopping. But after John decided to keep going he opened a new account so he didn`t wouldn`t use Holmes`s money. He knew Mycroft knew about the new account, and for sure Mycroft knew John was aware about it, but both of them pretended it was a secret well kept.

Knocks on his door brought John back from his thought, Mary was already halfway to the door when he realised them. When Mary opened the door John froze right in his seat, he couldn`t believe his eyes, it can`t be, it`s just no possible. But the tall figure in his doorstep was unmistakable, even when it was soaked wet, those piercing eyes that were staring right at him belonged to just one man.

Sherlock was in front of John and the woman that was sharing the flat without knowing what to do anymore. He wasn`t used to be speechless, but this moment was certainly a perfect one to start.