EDITED: This is the beta-version of the second chapter. Thanks to Eli.

Chapter 2 : The Plan

"Are you okay with this?" Mary held John's hand tightly as John walked her out to the patio. It was more likely that she was the one who wasn't feeling okay, but she didn't want to admit that she wasn't ready to leave. Conversely John had already planned his whole day without her and was eager to send her to her best friend Kate's house.

"It's your family's tradition to separate, not mine. It's okay if you don't want to do it." John smiled at her, trying to assure her that it really was okay, while inside he was practically urging her away.

Mary sighed. "You know how I hate breaking the tradition. Sometimes I wonder if you're doing this just because you want to get rid of me!"

John laughed and then he patted her hand. "I secretly am."

Mary pouted and coyly hit her soon-to-be husband on the arm. John laughed even harder.

'That's harsh, John.' John's body went stiff at the voice and his laughter trailed off awkwardly.

'It's only funny when it's not true.' Sherlock's voice sounded so close, it caressed his ears and sent chills down spine, making his hair stand on end.

He'd been seeing Sherlock for over two years, but it always made him a little jumpy when he appeared out of nowhere, especially because he always appeared when John was lying about his feelings, having a dilemma, or subconsciously detecting danger. Like a little guardian angel that always kept you safe and reminded you to behave, of course with his own style, sarcasm and everything. He remembered the first time Sherlock talked to him.

For weeks after the burial he just sat on Sherlock's seat, moving only to use the loo. Mrs. Hudson had to practically shove food and drink down his throat. But one day he just got up and asked Mrs. Hudson if she wanted to visit Sherlock's grave. Within 15 minutes they were in a cab on the way to the graveyard.

Together they stared at the smooth black marble bearing only the words Sherlock Holmes. Mrs. Hudson, despite her attendance at the burial, still found it difficult not to break down. After a couple of minutes of pouring her heart out she decided she couldn't take it anymore and left John alone.

"This is the first time I've come back." John touched the sharp edge of the headstone. He stepped forward a little, awkwardly sweeping away the leaves that had come to rest upon the headstone.

"I didn't believe it Sherlock. Not even for a second." He paused for a second, lowered his head, composing himself before continuing. "No-one will ever convince me that you told me a lie." He whimpered, then shook his head and took a deep breath. "You're the most human—" His voice trailed off. His expression changed from agony to anger in the blink of an eye, and he suddenly raised his head and balled his fists, fighting the urge to throw something at the grave.

"I know you're not dead." John pointed the grave. "I know you're not dead, Sherlock," he bellowed, "come out you annoying dickhead!" He looked around but the place was silent as the graves it housed. "I'm not going to punch you, I swear... just come out, Sherlock." Again, nothing but complete silence.

"Okay, whatever your reasons, just come home. I'm off to Tesco now, buying things so I can cook for you." John raised his hand awkwardly, turned and made his way to Tesco.

He was in the middle of Tesco, picking up a jar of strawberry jam and reaching for the cart when he heard the voice.

'Not that one John, it'll expire soon.'

He dropped the jar and it made the inevitable din as it smashed and broke into three big chunks of glass and a magenta smear. At first he thought he simply misheard someone else but then he saw him, standing just an arm's reach away in the same clothes he had on when he jumped. He nearly fainted on the spot.

Luckily a janitor came and distracted him. John helped him to pick up the pieces but he couldn't stop glancing at Sherlock, as if he was too afraid to find out if this was just his imagination or the real...

'I'm dead, John. This is only your imagination," he said.

John wrinkled his forehead, then started laughing hysterically. The janitor looked at him like he was going mental and decided to abandon his task of cleaning the floor.

Sherlock came to John, who was still crouching. 'What? Do you think the dead can be revived with the power of love?'

"I don't love you." John replied and stood way too quickly, as if challenging Sherlock to prove otherwise.

'Good, because while your brain still functions most of the time, adding love to the list of your distractions will cause you nothing but harm. Love is a dangerous disadvantage, John.'

"Functions? I'm perfectly fine with my brain. I have a normal brain, you're the one who has a—" he paused, "—unique brain."

'Normal is boring. You have to sharpen your mind, John.'

"Why do I?"

Sherlock didn't respond to his question, just smiled and didn't say anything more, but he followed John everywhere he went that day. Since then he always seemed to appear at the most inconvenient moment possible.

Mary, as clueless as she could ever be, smiled and took John's silence as a signal to go. She kissed his cheek, squeezed his hand and bade him goodbye.

Not long after Mary's car disappeared at the corner of the street, John turned his head toward him and sighed. 'Now is the right time to do it, right?'

Again, Sherlock just smiled at him enigmatically.

A/N: Thank you for Serenityofthematrix and the guess for the review. You will not believe how happy I am for your reviews! Oh, before I forgot, any type of reviews, critics and feedback, are strongly encouraged (well, except flame)!

Lots of love

—giallesa