~ Thank you so much for your feedback !

So here is chapter 2, took me quite a long time to write. An important part of it is directly inspired from Conan Doyle's story "The Empty House". And Sherlock BBC of course belongs to the wonderful Mr Gatiss & Moffat.

Enjoy ! ~

Chapter 2

A new shirt and a tube ride later, John arrived at his practice with a day of consultations ahead of him.

He honestly enjoyed his life as a doctor. Of course the succession of colds and flu wasn't always medically exciting, but there was also a human side to his job. Sometimes a few words exchanged with the patient meant much more than the symptoms themselves.

Doris, the assistant to the three doctors working there, greeted him and informed him about his schedule of the day. "Mrs Wilkes called this morning to cancel. Oh and a sales representative from a laboratory came this morning. He didn't have an appointment but since you had nothing until 10 I told him to wait in your office, is that fine?"

"Yes, Thank you Doris."

"How is the family doing? You have to tell Molly to come with the kids one of these days. I didn't even see Jack yet! And I bet Audrey must have grown up."

"Oh Yes ! I'm sure she would love to come, we'll organise that."

"Good. Would you like a coffee ?"

"God yes !"

It was already his second coffee this morning. But nights were short with a 4 month baby and he needed something strong to start the day. He picked up his mail, and entered his office where the man in question was waiting.

^/^

"Good morning, sorry for the wait. Dr John Watson".

"Peter Sigerson, Pzifer. Thank you for receiving me".

"Please have a seat."

The man was wearing a brown suit. He had blond hair with bangs that almost covered his eyes and large horn-rimmed glasses. He started to take out some papers from his leather briefcase and cleared his voice before beginning to speak hesitantly:

"So…hum. I am here today to present you some of our upcoming products." He looked at his notes anxiously. "So, we have a new anti-inflammatory molecule. It… hum. It reduces the risk of side effects such as…" Sigerson seemed completely lost and was browsing nervously through his notes. John was looking at him with something between irritation and pity

"… Such as…" Suddenly all his papers fell on the floor and he bent down to pick them up. John had to bite his lip hard not to laugh. Hopefully the man couldn't see him because of the desk between them.

"Do you need any help ?" he managed between two chuckles.

"No, I'm perfectly fine."

John froze. The man's voice had changed, it wasn't hesitating anymore. It was a voice that could belong to only one man in the world. A voice from beyond the grave. No it was stupid. He really needed to sleep more at night. He took his head between his hands and closed his eyes. When he reopened them, the man had got back on his feet. The blond hair was gone, replaced by a mass of familiar black curls. The glasses had disappeared as well. Now he could see clearly his eyes, ice blue, piercing through his. John felt a pain spreading in his chest.

He stood up, and realised his hand was shaking now. Was it a ghost? A bad joke? Or an hallucination? A sentence echoed in his mind: "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

Sherlock Holmes was standing in his office, smiling at him. It was the last thing John saw before his vision blurred completely.

^/^

It turned out he had fainted for the first time in his life. When he regained consciousness, Sherlock was bending over his chair, giving him a concerned look.

"Hello John", said the familiar voice.

John was staring at him in complete incredulity, suddenly he grabbed his arm to make sure he was real.

"Sherlock… is it really you ?"

The detective went to seat back in front of him.

"Don't be ridiculous, of course it's me! I'm sorry John. You know I can never resist a bit of drama… But I didn't imagine you would get such a shock."

John shook his head, still trying to process the information into his mind. Sherlock was alive… And he was there, in his office. He hadn't changed much, still too thin for his own good. His skin was slightly tanned though, and there was a scar on his chin that hadn't been there before.

"How can it be ? Sherlock you were DEAD ! We buried you !"

"You buried an empty coffin", he corrected with his usual precision.

"But… how the hell did you get out of the falls ?"

"Do you mind if I have a cigarette? Yes, I relapsed…"

His long hands reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. John was about to object, but the surprise and the joy to see his friend was stronger.

Sherlock took a drag and exhaled the smoke slowly. Then he continued: "I had no difficulty in getting out of it… for the simple reason that I never was in it."

"You never were in it?"

"No. But the letter I left you was absolutely sincere. When I saw Moriarty standing on that path, I had little illusions as to coming back alive. There was that look in his eyes... He was courteous enough to let me write you this note. We fought with bare hands, no weapons. He knew that everything was already lost for him in London. He just wanted revenge, even if that meant dying with me. And it was close that we fell together into the abyss. He just didn't know that I have some basic knowledge of martial arts. I managed to free myself at the last moment and… I saw him falling. He struck a rock, bounded off, and splashed into the water. Not a pretty sight I can tell you…"

"But… the tracks? I saw it myself. Two lines of footsteps leading to the falls, and none returning."

"Let me explain. Even before Moriarty's body had reached the bottom of the falls, a plan had formed in my mind. I realised that I was being given a fantastic opportunity. There were at least three other men determined to kill me. And the death of their boss would only increase their desire of vengeance. But if I could make them believe I was dead… then I knew that at some point they would make a mistake and we would be able to catch them…

I couldn't come back on the path, it would have left tracks. So there was only one solution : climbing the cliff. And believe me, it was not easy. The rocks were slippery and I really thought that my time had come. But I somehow managed to reach a ledge covered with green moss. I could rest there for a moment without being seen. And I saw you, looking for me. Investigating with my own methods, and reaching the fatal conclusion. When you finally went back to the hotel, I thought I was out of trouble. But suddenly, a huge rock fell from above and boomed past me. For an instant I thought it was an accident. But then I looked up and saw the head of a man. Moriarty had come alone… A second stone struck the ledge upon which I was stretched, within a foot of my head. I had no choice but tumbling down on to the path. At some point I slipped but I finally landed on the road. I was exhausted and bleeding, but alive. I ran ten miles over the mountains in the darkness… and one week later I found myself in Florence. I saw that the newspaper had officially announced my death… it was time for Sherlock Holmes to disappear.

Mycroft was the only one to know the truth. I contacted him because I needed some money. John… I swear I wanted to call you many times. But there was too much at stake. At first, I thought I could come back quickly. But, things didn't go as easy as I expected. The trial of Moriarty's gang left two of his most dangerous men out. So I had to stay away from London. I travelled for two years through Asia. I spent some times in Tibet, and in India. I even met with the Dalai Lama in Dharamshala. Then I did a few missions for the secret services in the Middle East: Iran, Saudi Arabia, Sudan… Finally I spent the last months in France, doing some research in a lab at Montpellier. I knew that one my enemies had been arrested. The only one left was Moran. But he got sloppy by killing Adair last year. Last week I was informed that Mycroft's team had a serious lead. So I decided it was time for me to come back. The rest you're read in the newspaper, which… I delivered by the way."

He looked back at John, waiting for a reaction.

"That's unbelievable… truly unbelievable", said the doctor. He sighted heavily. "And I can't believe you didn't trust me enough to let me know! You chose to contact Mycroft over me ?"

"John, don't be upset. Mycroft's position gave him access to secure communications. It was a more logical choice. And the fewer people knew, the better. Also…if you hadn't thought I was dead, you wouldn't have written such a convincing article on your blog."

Sherlock sent him a pleading look, just like a child who wants to be forgiven after a big mistake. Just like Audrey, he though. John felt angry and hurt, but also absolutely ecstatic.

"I kind of want to beat you up right now… but I'm also bloody happy to see you."

The detective gave him a true, honest smile.

"So what… are you plans?" continued John.

"Well, yesterday I went to Baker Street and almost gave our dear Mrs Hudson a heart attack. I saw that my brother had kept the flat and all my papers as I had left them. I sat in my old armchair, had a little chat with my skull… Tomorrow I will a pay visit to Lestrade and see what he has in store for me. London's criminal scene has become a bit dull since Moriarty's death but I hope I can still find a good mystery. Now I'm only waiting for you!", he said enthusiastly.

"Well I'd really like to join you but I'm afraid I'm… not as available as before."

"Oh", answered Sherlock quietly, "I see."

He had put on his emotionless mask, but John could tell that he was disappointed. He was probably excited to be back to his former life in London, and it was hard telling him that things had changed in his absence.

"Sherlock it's…"

"You have your job, I understand but… it wouldn't have to be all the time. Only for the cases on which I need on assistant. And if it's about the money… we can find an arrangement."

"No… it's. Well yes there's my job of course but not only. I'm a married man now."

"I know", he stated.

"Look, Molly and I went through very hard times after… you were gone. And, somehow, it brought us together. I don't want you to think that I tried to take your place or…"

"Oh no no no, I… don't blame you for anything. Actually I should rather thank you."

There was an awkward silence. John noticed that Sherlock's eyes were wandering on a frame on his desk. It was a picture of him, along with Molly and the children. It had been taken shortly after Jack's birth. John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He dreaded to bring up the subject.

"So… you also know that you're a father?"

"No", said Sherlock. "You, are a father."

John felt slightly relieved. It was true, Audrey was his daughter. But there was also something in Sherlock's tone that he didn't like. Some sort of insecurity. That was new. He realised how lonely Sherlock must have been during those three years. Instinctively, he took the picture and handed it to his friend.

Sherlock took it, and studied the scene carefully.

"She's got your eyes. It's a bit unsettling at times."

"Is she… normal?" asked Sherlock hesitantly.

"What do you mean?", replied John, puzzled by the question.

"Is she like me?"

He understood.

"She's a bit of a sulker, which probably comes from you. She throws a tantrum once in while but that's mainly because your brother spoils her too much. She's very funny, she's curious of everything. She has friends. Sherlock… she's a perfectly normal little girl."

"Good", he simply replied. For a moment, an indefinable expression passed over his face. He looked lost in his thoughts, almost dreamy. Finally he put the picture back on John's desk and got back to his usual self in an instant.

"So, will you consider my offer?", he asked.

"Yes. But I need to discuss it with my wife first. And by the way… I'd rather if you would let me break the news to Molly. You're still a sensitive subject and I don't think she will appreciate your theatrical effects."

"Alright."

There was a knock at the door, and Doris' face appeared.

"Doctor, sorry to interrupt but your next appointment has arrived."

"Thank you Doris, tell him to wait just a minute."

Sherlock got up. "Well, I'll leave you to your… patients". He had pronounced that last word with some kind of disdain. "You're welcome to Baker Street anytime. And sorry for the smoke, I need to get back to my patches."

John got up as well and walked him back to the door.

Sherlock hold him a hand. "I missed you John."

John took his hand, then spontaneously pulled him into a hug. It took Sherlock by surprise and he stiffened a little bit. Then he relaxed and hugged him back.

"Missed you more than you can imagine" murmured John.

Once he had left, John leaned back against the door, wondering if the incredible scene which had just taken place had been the product of his imagination. First he needed to see Mycroft and punch him in the face. Then… he had no idea on how he would be able to tell it to Molly.