Hey guys! So, I am extremely sorry I haven't updated for so long. I'd love to say I have an excuse, but I don't really. Anyway this is a pretty short, rubbish chapter, but it's just to give you something to show I will update this while I get the next chapter sorted. And don't worry, the next one will be longer and will be the confrontation!
Thank you so much for reading this fic and for all the reviews! I will update as soon as possible and I'm really sorry once again!
It was at least another hour before Greg, Sally and John were able to extract themselves from the persistent crowd of medical examiners, police and forensic experts and have a chance to talk to each other about what they had seen.
"Did you mention his back in your statement?" John asked as they headed out of the house into the cool air.
"Course not," Greg said straight away, as Sally nodded in agreement. "We're not total idiots."
John nodded and was just about to speak again when Sally interrupted. "John, what the hell was that?"
John looked up from the ground and glanced at her, his hands resting in his jacket pockets and an angry and lost look on his face. "I don't know," he said quietly.
"What?" Sally asked immediately, surprised by his response.
"I don't bloody know," John replied in a louder voice. "I...I've never seen that before."
Even Greg frowned in confusion now. "But you used to live with him. And you're always over at his flat. How could you not have seen it."
John frowned. "It could have happened after his...um..return. I've lived with Mary since then. And...well...I haven't been to his flat as often as you'd think since then," he admitted awkwardly.
"How many times have you been?" Lestrade asked curiously.
"Well...two or three times, I suppose," John admitted reluctantly.
"What?" Greg exclaimed, looking shocked. "But you're best friends!"
"Yeah, well then he went and jumped off a bloody building, didn't he. I wasn't exactly gonna be best buddies with him after that." John said angrily. "Then he waltzed into that stupid restaurant, thinking he could just walk back into my life and...oh."
"Oh?" Sally said. "What's oh?"
John frowned, guilt starting to seep into his thoughts. "Well, I'm sure you heard I knock him over in the restaurant. But it couldn't have been hard enough to do that to him!"
Lestrade frowned. "No, you're right. It couldn't have been. But you've been at his flat since then. Haven't you noticed anything unusual?"
"Like what, Greg?" John sighed. "It's Sherlock. He's not exactly the type to care about looking after himself. I don't think he even owns a first aid kit. And come to think of it, he always had his suit jacket on the few times I was over recently."
"Maybe it's nothing bad," Sally suggested. "I mean, it's the freak! The guy who pretends to be dead for 3 years and gives us no reason whatsoever while he goes and has fun running about the place getting off on solving crimes! Maybe he just got a cut on his back during a recent crime!"
"Maybe," John muttered. "But he's been keeping a lot from us recently, and I think it's time we know what. We've let him get away with it for a long time now, but I'll be damned if I don't find out exactly why he jumped, what he was doing for those two years, and what's wrong with his back and why he didn't tell us."
Greg and Sally nodded in agreement. It was time they got some answers.