CHAPTER TWO- THE RETURN
In which Sherlock returns, and Mrs. Hudson interrupts something important.
The next morning, as soon as he made sure that John was in a cab and Mrs. Hudson was out, Sherlock snuck into the flat. He knew today was the day. He had made all the plans, but he still wasnt ready. He needed to do something first.
He walked inside Johns room, and, after rummaging around in the wardrobe for a bit, he found what he was looking for. He slipped the oatmeal colored sweater over his head, and chuckled when he found that it was too big for his slender frame. Next he searched the flat until he found his violin- horribly out of tune, but he was touched that John had kept it. He made himself a cup of tea, placed his skull on the mantle, and hung his scarf on the back of the door. Sighing, he sat down in his chair, sent the text, and settled down to tune his instrument.
John jumped when his phone vibrated. No one ever texted him anymore, not since... He pulled out his phone and froze when he read it.
221B Baker Street. Come at once if convienent.
Just as he finished reading, another text made his phone vibrate.
If not convienent, come anyway. SH
John was frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at those two letters. He couldnt breathe, but somehow he managed to stick his hand out into the street and call a cab anyway.
"Where to?"
"Baker Street. 221B Baker Street."
When Sherlock saw the cab pull in front of the flat, he picked up his violin and started to play a tune he mustve played a million times before the Fall. He had to make sure John would recognise it.
He heard the door open, and he swallowed the nerves gathering in his throat.
John heard the music as soon as he entered the flat, and it sent chills down his spine. It grew louder as he walked up the stairs, but he hesitated before opening the door.
When he did, he had to stop.
There he was, facing the window, but John didnt have to see his face to know it was him. It was all so familiar- the posture, the fluid movement- but John realized that his memory hadnt done him any justice.
He wanted to speak, he wanted to sing, he wanted to dance around the flat.
But all he could manage was a name- a name that he had not allowed himself to speak, or even think, for three years.
"Sherlock?"
Sherlock turned around, and he had to swallow again when he saw Johns face. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but he hadnt planned for this. He hadnt predicted how grief- stricken Johns face would be, nor had he foreseen the pain that bled from every wrinkle and crease.
He was almost glad when something happened that he WAS expecting.
The punch was so forceful that it sent him stumbling back until the back of his calves touched his chair. It took most of his strength to keep from falling into it.
"Thats for all the pain you put me through!"
Sherlock winced at the volume. He had planned for this, though, he knew what to d-
And once again, John surprised him.
John hugged Sherlock tighter, his fingers splaying out against Sherlocks back. He was at a perfect angle to see ebony curl over the collar of the tan sweater Sherlock was wearing, and it made his voice crack when he spoke.
"And thats for my miracle, you bastard," he whispered.
He felt Sherlock take a shaky breath. "Im sorry, John, Im so sorry," he said into Johns shoulder. "I didnt mean for it to take this long," Something wet soaked through Johns shirt, and he froze. Tears? Sherlock never cried. It wasnt his forté.
John pulled away, and Sherlock held on tighter for a split second, as if trying to stop him, but then let go. John realized that Sherlock had fallen into his chair, and John was kneeling before him. Ignoring the disadvantage, he reached up and wiped away a tear just as it slipped from a sea-blue eye. He made to take his hand away, but it was stopped by Sherlock as he held it to his cheek, closing his eyes.
Johns eyes widened and he didnt realize that he was getting up and leaning towards Sherlock.
Their faces were about five inches apart when Mrs. Hudson screamed.
Okay, about the tears. One of my friends was a bit confused about why SHERLOCK was the one crying, because she felt like John would be more likely. So, here's my logic.
John truly believes Sherlock is dead. He may not be happy about it, but I think that if Sherlock really were dead, then, eventually, John would've moved on. Eventually.
John is not dead to Sherlock. Sherlock has spent the past three years terrified the Moriarty isn't dead and that he's going to do something to John. He's been watching over John, but he wasn't able to touch him, talk to him, drink his tea, and now he's back and John is being forgiving? Think of Sherlock's childhood. You would cry too.
Anyway, sorry for the rant.
-Alex