Chapter 2
Flashback
"I can always count on you John Watson. You always keep me straight."
John looked at Sherlock. The glass that he had in his hand was devoid of alcohol for the fifth time tonight. John could already feel the effects of the drinks on his thinking and actions. It felt like he was viewing Sherlock at the moment, through a warped lens.
"Me? What makes me special?"
Sherlock smiled at him drunkenly as he downed his sixth glass of alcohol. He attempted to point a shaky finger at John and poked him in the chest.
"'Cause you are my friend...my only one too."
"The infamous Sherlock Holmes has a friend now does he?"
Sherlock chuckled, hiccupping once as the alcohol settled in his stomach. He leaned back in his seat.
"I'm even deducing that one day it may be..."
Sherlock trails off, closing his eyes as the room spins around him.
"May be what Sherlock?.." John asks, leaning drunkenly toward him.
Sherlock opened his eyes to look at John one more time before smiling drunkenly and saying, "It may be something more..."
John shook off that flashback. He remembered the rest of that night as he stood standing on the ledge. Nothing had ever happened. John was too aware to let anything happen. Not that he didn't want that of course, but he didn't want to take advantage of Sherlock while he was drunk. Besides, he probably didn't mean what he had been saying. He was Sherlock Holmes, a high-functioning sociopath. It wasn't possible for him to have feelings of affection, especially toward him.
John took another deep breath, looking down at the ground below. He could do this. No more memories of Sherlock. Maybe he'd actually be able to be reunited with him. Or maybe not because of what he did...
What he did. John closed his eyes in pain. He wished desperately for a chance to make that right; a chance to ask for Sherlock's forgiveness, but he knew that would take a miracle. He had stopped believing in miracles two years ago.
"I'm sorry Sherlock..." John said out loud, a single tear slipping down his cheek as his breath shook. "Please forgive me."
Sherlock finally made it on to the rooftop. He saw John standing there, a couple of feet away and immediately panicked. What if, by yelling out to him, he caused John to fall anyway because he thought he was crazy? What if he didn't yell, but still couldn't save John because he couldn't run there fast enough?
All he knew was that he couldn't stand there and do nothing. He had to try something.
Without another thought, Sherlock quickly jogged toward where John was standing. As he got closer, he could hear what John was saying.
"I'm sorry Sherlock...please forgive me..."
He almost faltered in his approach, puzzled by what John was saying. Forgive him? For what? He should be the one that was asking for forgiveness. He had been the one to fake his death for two years and hurt his one true friend. What did John have to be sorry for?
"I wish I had a chance to see him again...to let him know..."
"You'll have a chance to now if you don't jump."
That voice.
No. No it couldn't be.
"It's in your head John. It's like all those other times you thought you heard Sherlock's voice. It's all in your memory."
John took another shaky breath and stepped out a little further on the ledge.
"John! No!"
Sherlock's voice. Again.
It sounded so real. So...outside his head.
"You're not real...you're not real!" he said out loud. "You've lost it John. It really is time to end it all."
Before John could step out any further on the ledge though, someone wrapped their arms about his waist and yanked him away.
"Let me go!" he shouted, struggling to free himself, struggling to die and be free of this pain.
The person who had his grip around John slowly brought him down to a sitting position on the roof, keeping his grip firm. John still fought to get free; tears stinging the corners of his eyes as he clawed at the open air.
"Let me go! Can't you see I just want to die already? Why not let me?"
"John...what has happened to you?"
This time Sherlock's voice broke with sadness. John knew it must be in his head then. Sherlock never displayed emotions. This couldn't be him.
"Let me go!"
He repeated those three words, hoping that his captor would finally give it to his request. However, that hope was soon dashed as the grip tightened.
"I already let you go once...I'm not letting you go again. I'm sorry John."
"No...no! You're not real! You're in my head!" John shouted, his body shaking as tears leaped from his eyes. "I watched you die! I buried you! You can't be real!"
John could feel himself be adjusted and soon he was looking up into those familiar ocean blue eyes.
"I'm not dead...I'm right here...I'm sorry John..."
Sorry? First Sherlock sounded upset and now he was sorry? This had to be a dream. John shook some more, shaking his head.
"You're never sorry for anything that you do! You always do it and expect people to understand! You think just because you're Sherlock bloody Holmes that you can do anything you please and it has no repercussions. No...you can't be real. The real Sherlock Holmes never apologized."
What the hell had happened to John since he "died"?
John was a complete wreck. The John that he remembered was valiant. He would never be a coward. He was always brave, willing to bear anything. This John wanted to die, to escape the world. This was not the John he used to know.
And it was all his fault.
"I don't care what you think John, you're wrong. I am sorry; more sorry than I have ever been in my entire life. I'm real. I'm here and I will never leave you again."
"I don't believe you," said John, his voice wavering. "I don't believe you!"
John's voice grew louder as he shouted it in his face. Sherlock winced momentarily. John was broken. He had never seen anyone so broken in his entire life. John was a broken man and it was now his job to fix him.
"What will it take to make you believe me then?"
John's eyes looked up into his, searching them; as if the answers were all hidden there.
"But you were dead...I watched you die..."
"It was all a magic trick, John. You can't get rid of me that easily," he said, smirking slightly.
His attempt at a joke just seemed to make John more on edge. Tears started racing faster down John's face as he sobbed, turning to bury his face in his shirt.
"Oh Sherlock...I missed you so much..."
He wrapped his arm around John, hushing him, trying to comfort him. He held John as his body continued to shake with tears.
"I missed you too John, but I'm back now. I'm so sorry. I'm never leaving you again."
Sherlock.
For the past two years every time he had thought that name, it had brought nothing but heartache and tears.
And now he was back.
Sherlock. His best friend, his confidant, his hero, his life, his heart...was alive.
Sherlock was alive!
As he managed to stop crying as much, he brought his head up to look at Sherlock again.
"Where have you been these last two years then if you weren't dead?"
"I had to take down Moriarty's network. I had to take down every single member of its party before I could return."
Moriarty. That name sent a shiver down his spine. Sherlock must not know then that he was a part of Moriarty's network for a bit. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe he should just keep the truth hidden...but no. He had begged for a chance to ask for Sherlock's forgiveness and it was time he told him the truth.
"So you took down all of the members of Moriarty's network?" he asked, looking at Sherlock.
"Yes," he said confidently.
"Well, I beg to differ Sherlock," he said, biting his lower lip in fear.
"You mean I missed a member?" asked Sherlock looking at John. "Who?"
John took a deep breath before letting it out shakily.
"Me."
