Sherlock knew he was going to be fuming. It was a long time to wait, a long time to accept Sherlock had left him alone. He was sitting in the corner of his room, cast into shadow by the drawn curtains and dim desk lamp, providing the rooms only light. Sherlock didn't question this, the man needed a shield of some kind, the feeling was familiar to him.
"Two months. Fucking hell, Sherlock." He sighed, not even managing to sound convincingly angry.
The defeated, disappointed tone was even worse.
"I know, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean for it to take this long." Sherlock told him, finding no discomfort in his offered apology. His 'death' had changed his sense of pride and vanity, somewhat.
"You intended for it to take some additional time though? Forgive me if I did not factor that into the equation!" The reply came, anger rumbling with more conviction.
"Look, there were things I had to do, you know that." Sherlock tried, relieved to find they were having an argument, which seemed to lend itself to a possible reconciliation at least.
"While you were dead, Sherlock!" The will to sound angry had once again outweighed the actual anger.
Sherlock reminded himself that his obvious offence, yet will to be angry, were both understandable.
"…Yeah, I know I've overstepped a line here."
There was a hollow laugh from the shadows.
"I don't know that that quite covers it, do you? Was there something I overlooked? Something I didn't do I should have done?"
Sherlock fought not to flinch at the question, the imploring confusion in his voice. He knew, Sherlock had never owed anyone else more.
"No, never. You know all of this! I couldn't have asked for anything more, I didn't mean to leave you this long."
Desperation in his voice became almost tangible.
"Then why did you? Don't tell me you had things to do, it would have taken a minute of your time, less, to explain."
"I just…I got caught up, I was used to not being able to tell the truth, I was distracted."
It sounded weak, even to Sherlock, it probably deserved the bitter response he received.
"Of course you were, by more important people."
"Don't say that."
"Well is it not true, Sherlock?"
Sherlock took a deep breath. In the days before Jim Moriarty, Sherlock would never have brought himself to admit when he had simply erred. Not chosen science over human feelings, just messed up. Moriarty had changed everything, but Sherlock could not honestly say all the changes in him were for the worse.
"No, it's not. I know I screwed up, okay, but it wasn't because you're not important enough! I shouldn't have made you wait a day longer than the others."
"And yet you left it sixty two days, to be precise."
"I'm sorry."
"I know. But what's two months on the end of three years, after all?"
Sherlock sighed. Therein, lay the problem after all. Those three years, were hard to forgive, but he could have done, because Sherlock had had no choice. The two months in which he had just failed to act, were different.
"A step too far?"
He did not expect to see the other shaking his head and answering with a tone of resigned dismissal.
"No. Two months more than the ones who really matter, I can forgive."
"You do really matter!" Sherlock ground out. Forgiveness had been his goal, but it was not good enough, if it was given because he didn't believe he was worth better treatment at Sherlock's hands.
"Sherlock, despite the fact I was not among those you jumped off a building for, or those you had to let grieve for three years to protect, I really did believe that, once."
The gentle, almost understanding tone hurt in a way a once dead man didn't believe was still possible.
"What do I have to do to make you believe it now?" He whispered, though he suspected he wasn't going to like the answer.
The other man stood up from his desk and stepped out of the shadows, revealing ugly bruising marring a once proud and handsome face. Three years, Sherlock had been in hiding, two months he'd been home. Two months, in which he'd neglected to tell a part of the story of his death. Two months, in which he had forgotten his was not the only shattered reputation he'd left behind. Two months, before his flatmate had run into his archenemy.
"Tell me why it didn't matter to you at all, that the most important man in your life, believed I betrayed you to your death."