Thank you everyone for treading this, it's my first story. I hope you guys enjoy it! Please review and such!
Sherlock was walking down a busy Indian street, it was early morning and no one paid much attention to the Englishman on the street. Sherlock loved it, he could still be believed to be dead, yet walk in plain sight. The world is full of idiots who don't think, and when they do think its annoying he thought to himself. The man over their herding the cows is the man who killed the soldier last night, the shopkeepers wife is going to be mad when she finds out he's been having an affair with the delivery boy. It was so easy living here people were so easy to read.
Ordinary people are so adorable, I should get a live in one. JIM Moriarty, the name still made Sherlocks skin crawl. Jim is the reason why I had to go into hiding, the reason why I had to move here, the reason I had to leave John... "No!" Sherlock accidentally said out loud. Looking around he noticed no one was paying much attention anyway. He couldn't afford to think about John. John who thought he was dead, who would hate him if he every found out he was still alive.
It hurt, thinking of John, knowing all the things he wish he could have told him, all the times he could have said how great full he was to have a helper. Sherlock could be happy here in India, but he knew that he would never be totally happy without John. It hurt him to know John was living his life and was laughing and smiling and having fun. Sherlock had given up on trying to push John out of his brain, yes it hurt but he had become used to it. It had become a constant companion is the last two years of loneliness.
Suddenly he felt something vibrate in his pocket. The feeling had become foreign and awkward. Sherlock haven't used the phone since he called John on the roof of St. Bart' years of silence from his old life, which was understandable because everyone thought he was dead.
It's John... -MH
Something happened to him... -MH
Come back, Sherlock. For him- MH
Sherlock didn't know which question to address first, how did Mycroft know he was alive, or what has happened to John? Without totally thinking Sherlock quickly booked a ticket on the next to England... To John.
