Disclaimer: I don't own much else besides the Willingtons + possible extras.

A/N: Not much to say. Just read on. Enjoy, don't. It doesn't matter to me.

Chapter Two

The moment Wendy entered the sitting room of 221B Baker Street, her eyes scanned the room with amazement and wonder. Just like most Sherlockians, she was only familiar with the outside and what little she could make out through the windows. Now that she was finally in their flat, she forced herself to contain her excitement and took a seat at the chair that John had set out between their two armchairs. Sherlock lingered by the coffee table, taking Wendy's note and carried it along with him as he settled himself at his own armchair. Wendy observed him curiously as he began to rub his cheek, which was red and slightly puffy from John's punch earlier.

"What the hell happened to you?" Wendy asked bluntly. Sherlock flinched slightly, giving Wendy a quick glance before he continued observing her note.

"He's fine, Wendy." John told her, handing her a cup of tea. She smiled up at him with gratitude before she continued looking over Sherlock's cheek. "It's just three years worth of anger. He'll survive."

"Ah." Wendy pursed her lips, amused by John's response as she took a sip of tea. "You know, perhaps I should come at another time." She suggested as she watched John take his spot at his own armchair. "It's obvious you two have a lot of catching up to do."

"Considering he's alive, I think we have a lifetime to do that." John glanced over at Sherlock, a slightly bitter expression forming upon his face. "Unless he has other plans to disappear again..."

"None at all, John." Sherlock replied simply, looking at him with a placid face. He then glanced at Wendy and waved her note in the air slightly. "Now why did you leave this for John last night?"

"I just thought he could help somehow." Wendy shrugged. "While my parents were still alive around this time, I was desperate for any bit of help." She bit her lip, rather reluctant to continue. "Are you sure I can't come back another time?"

"Please, Wendy," John muttered. "Humor the man. I'm sure he hasn't been able to show off for days."

Sherlock glanced at John, slightly narrowing his eyes.

Wendy took a long sip of tea and sighed. "John, you're obviously very bitter about what's happened."

"Our personal matters are none of your business, Wendy." John stated.

"Oh, but they will be when you blog about it." Wendy answered. "And we all know you definitely will, so honestly, I don't see the point in being so secretive about something that will be made public by the time you're in front of that laptop."

Feeling slightly defeated by the words of the young lady, John sighed and glanced over at Sherlock who's gaze was still fixated on him. "You still owe me an explanation."

"Ask, and you will receive." Sherlock waved a hand in the air to urge John on with questions.

"So..." John paused, trying to collect his thoughts. "Why did you do it?"

"Three bullets," Sherlock stated. "Three victims. You, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson were all in danger as long as I lived. There was nothing to call the snipers off because Moriarty..." Sherlock's brow furrowed slightly. "Made his departure. Without him, only my death would have called them off. With that said, I did what I had to do. I jumped, but it was all a simple ruse to have the snipers believe I was truly dead."

"What do you mean Moriarty made his departure?" Wendy interrupted, which caused both Sherlock and John to glare at her. "Sorry, I'm... I'm just curious..." She peeped.

"He shot himself in the head." Sherlock replied bluntly, which caused Wendy's eyes to widen slightly and forced her mouth shut.

"You could have had the decency to tell me." John muttered, crossing his arms.

"That would only put you in danger."

"Do you think I would of cared?" John remarked. Never anticipating John to be so spiteful, Wendy's eyes widened out of surprise. She bit her lip slightly while her hands wrapped themselves around tightly the cup of tea that sat upon her lap.

"Well, I did." Sherlock hissed. "I risked everything out there for the past three years just so you could be safe. I'm truly sorry, John. I truly am. I never intended for you to-"

"Right." John interrupted. "You had to leave me to believe my best friend was dead all this time."

"I had to ruin my own reputation so I could sabotage Moriarty's web successfully, John." Sherlock explained. "My death was the only way to secure your safety. If I even made the slightest effort to talk to you, you would only be put in danger as well. I couldn't..." Sherlock sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I couldn't risk that."

"If you haven't forgotten, I'm a military man, Sherlock." John replied bitterly.

"I rather not have you involved."

"I could have helped!"

"It was better you didn't."

"Did you not hear me? I'm a military man."

"Yes, but I preferred you stayed out of it."

"Sherlock, do you-"

"John, I don't know if you haven't noticed, but I was making an effort in being a friend. To you. I know friends don't necessarily lie about their deaths nor do they leave their friends to relapse into depression, but I was trying my best to keep you safe because that's what you told me. Wasn't it, John?" Sherlock stated in a frantic rush, almost as if his words wouldn't be heard if John continued speaking. With a stern stare, he looked at John who's face crumbled into a look of fragility. "Friends protect people."

As if his words were arrows, they stabbed John directly through his heart as he stared back at his best friend who continued to look at him with that severe look upon his face. Blinded by his own emotions and the life that he had spent without Sherlock, he had overlooked the reason as to why Sherlock went out on this ridiculous mission. Despite being a man who lacked sympathy and social norms, Sherlock was attempting to become a good friend and here John was, giving him very little credit.

All while John contemplated on Sherlock's words, Wendy looked on with a frantic expression upon her face. Glancing back and forth at Sherlock and John, she could feel her heart overwhelmed with emotions that she only got out of the fanfiction that she read from other Sherlockians. In fact, she read numerous reunion fanfiction, but none could ever top the raw emotion from the actual moment itself. She found the whole situation was far too overwhelming for her to comprehend. Here Wendy was, the first and only Sherlockian to bear witness the reunion of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John H. Watson. She would be the only one to know the full details of their reunion and their conversation over lost times. While she felt so giddy, she easily became conflicted because she was only here by one regard, the death of her parents.

"I did say that." John finally admitted quietly. "And I'm sorry, I suppose I owe you a thank you as well."

"And I will continue to apologize for as long as I live." Sherlock responded.

Welling with pride, Wendy looked at the two of them with a weak smile. "That's a good start, boys." She said quietly, rather fearful of their glaring eyes.

John sighed. "I suppose we have you to thank."

Wendy shook her head. "The conversation would of occurred at any time, but I just couldn't bear not having you two acknowledge the problem. There's a reason why I adore the two of you-"

"Yes, clearly stated on your blog." Sherlock interrupted.

Frowning slightly, Wendy continued. "I adore you two because your friendship is a remarkable thing. I can't stand to see you two so reluctant to discuss such an important thing between the twoo of you. It's what makes you Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. I know my opinion means very little and I am just another face among a crowd, but you two need each other and I know things aren't okay right now, but they will be someday."

"Thank you for your commentary, Miss Willington." Sherlock said with lack of interest.

Wendy scoffed. "I would think you would be more appreciative of that, Sherlock."

"It's appreciated." John assured her with a gentle smile. "I just think Sherlock's more reluctant to admit it."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Are we going to continue this conversation drenched in sentiment or are we going to discuss this case involving a particular double homocide?"

"Fine, I'm satisfied." Wendy sighed as she took another sip of tea. "Ask, and you will receive." She mocked Sherlock, waving a hand in the air. As Sherlock glared her way, John let out a stifled chuckle.

"So why did you think John could help you?" Sherlock questioned, ignoring the exchange of giggles between John and Wendy. "Obviously by the condition of the note, you were rather reluctant to get help. You crumpled this poster at least three times over. You shakily written the note out of nervousness and uncerainty. Yet despite everything, you gave the note to John."

"Oh, lovely... deductions." Wendy responded, amused by Sherlock. "Well, yes, I just thought the least bit of influence could help."

"Though I could give you little help." John told her. "I'm nothing like Sherlock."

"Oh, give yourself more credit, John," Sherlock remarked. "Your deduction skills aren't as bad as I remember them to be."

"Cute!" Wendy exclaimed happily, which caused John and Sherlock to glare her way once more. "Sorry, but... well, that was cute..."

Sherlock sighed. "We can do without your opinions, Wendy. Now what is this gut feeling you mentioned?"

Wendy sighed, leaning her back onto the chair as she thought back to the previous night. That memory resided in the back of her mind amidst the clouds of fog that she hoped would cover it up enough to make her forget. Yet no matter what she did, everything about that night was clear as day and the details still remained refined in her mind. Raising her gaze slightly to Sherlock, she weakly smiled.

"It wasn't so much a gut feeling, they told me."

"Your parents?" John questioned.

"Yes." Wendy took a small sip of tea and stared down at what little was left. "They told me that something was going to happen." Suddenly, her heart easily became depleted of feeling as her tea cup. "That was enough to cause me to worry..."