AN:First ever fanfiction. I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: Not mine
It had been six months since Moriarty had fooled society into thinking Sherlock was a fake. Normal people were so stupid, they'd believe anything they read. How boring it must be to think like that. Not make your own deductions. Six months since Sherlock had been forced to hurt the only three people in the world that liked him.
Sherlock kept moving, he knew that now, because of his appearances in the papers and those who read John's blog, people would recognise him even without that blasted deerstalker. John. He hadn't updated his blog at all (which worried Sherlock, the blog had been suggested by John's therapist to help with his PTSD , so the lack of updates may mean a regression in his recovery )apart from the posting of a news item, with which he had expressed that he would never believe Sherlock was a fake. So that meant that John hadn't believed anything he had said in the phone call, so John was actually (as Sherlock had hoped) a lot more intelligent than the rest of them. And...and he had called Sherlock his best friend. He didn't know what to think of this. Sherlock had never had a friend before, never mind a best friend.
His feelings for John confused him, he felt very different when he thought of John that when he thought about Mrs Hudson. But she was his housekeeper landlady, he corrected, she hated being referred to as their housekeeper, despite the fact that she cleaned the apartment and on occasion would cook for them. She was more like a mother to him, not exactly a friend. Sherlock may even say that he loved her; Mrs Hudson was a lot more caring than his own mother, who had never paid attention to him when he was younger. As children, he and Mycroft had always been bundled off to some nanny, their mother wasn't really the maternal type. Mrs Hudson was fantastic, she was always there is Sherlock needed her, he just wished that she'd let him analyse her 'gentleman callers' more often to stop her getting hurt.
Then his relationship with Lestrade was again very different to those he had John and Mrs Hudson. Lestrade was part of Scotland Yard (which is mainly made up of complete simpletons), but he actually treated Sherlock with some respect. He didn't talk too much or pretend he was intelligent, like Anderson, but he accepted that he needed Sherlock, plus he always made sure that Sherlock would get what he needed at a crime scene. He hated to admit it, but Lestrade was actually smart, at least by normal standards, and that was the main reason Sherlock chose to work with him. Sherlock could call him a friend, maybe, or at least he would care if Lestrade was ever hurt and felt the need to protect him. Which is what having a friend must mean. Though that urge was not as strong as the one that made him want to protect John. That must be the difference between a friend and a best friend, he thought.
Since Sherlock's 'death' John had visited his gravesite every day. Sherlock had not expected this, yes of course John would visit the grave. -but Sherlock had predicted he'd come maybe once twice a week, and then gradually decrease these trips until he only came on special occasions, or when he felt he an extra bout of grief, though he would never understand why John would care even that much- he had no reason to like Sherlock. Then there was the girl. John had never mentioned her, and he always remembered what John said. He never deleted the conversations he had with John: they were important. Sherlock had never seen her either, but he knew John had found someone new.
Lately he had detected the subtle changes in John's body language that indicated he was thinking of some girl, lusting after her, though Sherlock could tell by the fact the he had never brought her home and the way John's eyes glazed over when there was a scene involving romantic partners on television, that this girl was much more important. That she may even be the one that John would marry. Sherlock didn't know what he thought about John ever getting married, it would mean less time with his friend. In fact he had never liked it when John has girlfriends, they took up a lot of John's time and were completely useless. They meant John was gone even overnight sometimes, and Sherlock missed him. Or at least he missed having someone to do things for him. He wasn't entirely sure which. The thought unsettled him, he always knew what was going on. Though his relationship with John often made him feel like this, he didn't know how to act around John, what was okay. He had no idea how to treat his friend, he had never had any practice at it, and shouldn't it have come easily? Everyone else knew how to behave. He was a lot smarter than them too.
'Friend' the word still seemed completely foreign to him. At school Sherlock had always been the loner, the kid that everyone picked on the 'boffin', the 'loser', the 'freak'. He took all this torment for many years, then he figured out the perfect way to get to the bullies; deduce them. After that they stayed away. But still no one talked to Sherlock, he had always been left completely alone. That is, until he met his blogger.
However, if John had been in love with this new girl, surely she would have been to the grave with him? Or he would have left her in the car? No, John always walked. The worst thing was, John was back to walking with his cane. His limp was psychosomatic, which meant that John had to be under a lot of stress, had gone back to the PTSD firm after his discharge. Sherlock couldn't believe that him leaving -'dying'-could ever have had such an effect on John. If it had been the other way around (though Sherlock was much too intelligent not to have figured everything out, this was hypothetical), and Sherlock had believed John to be dead, Sherlock was sure he wouldn't be able to go on. He would have been overcome with grief, and may have even taken very drastic actions. Wow, he thought, it really is a deep emotional tie one had with a best friend. So he could understand John's regression. Thought he would never know why John had chosen him for a friend. Of course he was brilliant, and everyone admired his intellect. But even Mrs Hudson, who would never try to offend him, had admitted he could be a complete 'arse' at times. Who would want spend time with him at all, he stopped speaking for days on end and the way he played the violin weren't exactly desirable qualities.
He missed the violin, and the quiet of 221B. Sometimes, he visited Molly. She was the only one who he had told he had only faked everything; she had even helped him with something. Her flat was very over-crowded with knick-knacks and cats though, not exactly a quite haven. Also she just kept talking. So getting rid of Moriaty's associates was taking a lot longer than he had planned.