Chapter 2
Three years, a century: the same
John was standing halfway between the chair he was seated on just seconds ago and Sherlock. Time ceased to exist or you could also say that every second seemed like an eternity; John wasn`t sure which metaphor suited the situation better, but who cared, a man that looked just like Sherlock was standing in front of him. He stared at the man once more, there were a few differences actually; he was skinnier than his Sherlock and his eyes were darker, it made him even more beautiful. Nonetheless, there was no doubt; his eyes might have changed, but his look was the same; that look that went right trough John`s heart. The man in the doorstep was his Sherlock. Even though he never got to call Sherlock his own, and he realized it just too dramatically when Sherlock jumped from that rooftop so long ago. Sherlock was never mine and will never be. He knew the consulting detective would probably dismiss John`s sentiments like another not very relevant fact. Not out of evil, of course, but because he wasn't sure Sherlock saw anyone that way. As far as John was concerned, he was alone in this infatuation, as he was sure Sherlock would call it.
When did I stand up? He hadn`t realized he had been standing all that time until his knee begun bothering him; because another thing that changed after Sherlock`s death was that he could`t find how to distract himself enough not to feel the pain in his dammed leg. He secretly preferred it that way; at least at the beginning, when he had something to focus his mind different from the pain Sherlock`s empty spaces caused him.John knew he had to say something; Sherlock was waiting for any kind of response.
But John was having a hard time silencing the million questions he had on his head. He could hear each one of his heartbeats on his chest and feel his blood pumping in his head.
"Sh-Sherlock?" It felt a bit strange saying his name out loud. He repeated that name in his mind constantly, but he hardly said out loud anymore. It just made it a bit easier to keep it to himself.
"Hello John." Sherlock was still on the doorstep of the flat. He entered it and took a quick look around, trying to absorb all the information he could to start feeling the gaps of the three years he missed of John`s life; of course this wouldn't be enough, but it was a start. Not much furniture, just enough to have a confortable house. Boxes with dust on them, they had been living here for a while even though they still have to unpack some of their things. Mostly pictures of the woman, actually all but two are hers. One of the photographs portrayed John with her sister, so things are better between them, obviously. The other one was not really a picture, it was a newspaper article framed. Sherlock could only read the head title: "Sherlock Holmes seems to break another case, even from the grave. Moriarty might be real after all." Beneath those words there was Sherlock`s photo standing next to John; before he jumped, before his life became lonely and cold nights in warehouses following the trace of criminals, before he had to give up having the army doctor by his side.
Seeing that John wasn't saying anything else Sherlock thought it would be better for him to start the conversation, because hopefully there was going to be a conversation between them.
Sherlock noticed the flinch on John`s face while he tried to lean his weight to the other leg.
"I see your leg is bothering you again."
"Observant as always." John reply left Sherlock without much to hang to. He thought he could perceive resentment on his tome. He couldn`t blame him, he was fighting against guilt sentiments himself, so it was only normal to expect that from John; nonetheless it took away a big part of the hope Sherlock had about finishing the conversation in good terms.
"Mr. Holmes?..Sherlock Holmes? That`s not possible. How? I mean it`s just not possible" Mary`s words reminded Sherlock she was in the room. He only addressed a quick look at her and then his eyes locked with John`s.
"John look.." Sherlock tried to continue.
"Mary, I know we were suppose to go out in a bit but I guess you`ll understand if I have to attend some business first." John interrupted Sherlock.
Business? The use of that word made Sherlock feel uncomfortable, he could feel his confidence drifting away by the second.
Mary and John were sharing a long look. "We made the reservations anyway. I`ll call you to meet later."
"Are you sure, John? I could sta-"
"Yes, I`m sure."
It took less than half a minute for Mary to gather her purse and jacket to leave the flat. The two men were alone now. After so what seemed a lifetime, Sherlock and John were looking at each other with their hearts about to explode and a thousand things to say.
Sherlock gave a tempting step, John didn`t move.
"John, I cant begin to explain…I`m here and."
"Why?"
It was the first word that John addressed Sherlock, besides calling his name just few moments before.
"Why what? exactly."
"Why? Just why. I think it`s a pretty simple question. Don`t I deserve at least an explanation?" John was loosing his temper. He was usually a calm person, and the soldier in him knew that moments of extreme sentiment made people behave abnormally, so he had to control himself. He was trying very hard to be happy. Of course he was happy; Sherlock Holmes was standing before him! Alive for Christ Sake, very alive! But it was hard to express those feeling when betray and anger were also coming to the surface after realizing Sherlock had being alive all this time and he had lied to him for three years. After Sherlock jumped he thought he would never see the man`s face again or those eyes that shifted color every time he looked at them, but John was rambling in his thought now.
Sherlock was in front of him and he had a lot of explanation to do before John gave in to his intentions and could hug him very tight in his arms; to never let him go again.
"It was the only way, it hasn`t been easy for me either. You got to keep your day a day life, I gave up everything…You don't know how hard it is to wake up alone everyday, not that I minded being alone before, but-" Sherlock thought that maybe putting things into perspective will make the situation easier to handle an maybe a bit smaller.
"Easy? I don't know how hard it is?" John was certainly loosing it now. How could Sherlock said that any about the last 3 years had being easy or that he wasn't just as alone as he. To be fair, John wasn't thinking totally straight; there were many feelings inside him. He didn't know a person could feel that range of sentiments. John could feel his body shaking a bit and his face going red, but he didn`t move his look one inch.
"Oh, come on, John. I`m just saying that it shouldn't had been THAT hard, not really." Sherlock didn't know why he was saying that. If John suffered from the separation just half of what he suffered, he knew that surely he had some bad times. But some how Sherlock wanted to pretend he hadn`t hurt the army doctor that much. He wanted John to prove Sherlock wasn`t responsible for his eyes looking so tired, or his leg malfunctioning again, He hated the idea of being the one to blame for John`s pain. However, the look in John`s face was of disbelief. "I`m just saying tha-"
"Don't dare saying again it wasn`t hard."
"But I`m…maybe I should leave, you seem a bit mmm indispose."
What! Does he actually think he can abandon me again?
Sherlock was turning round, maybe if he left for just a minute he could take some fresh air and put order into his thought. Obviously he was only upsetting John and, from his deduction, he could presume that his words were the ones causing the problem, so Sherlock had to rearrange his strategy.
"Shit, Sherl-. You`re not.." There`s no fucking way I`ll let this happen again. It occurred John thatmaybe all of this was just another dream; he very often imagined a life in which Sherlock was still with him. But now that he thought it better, this couldn't be a dream; in his dreams Sherlock never left again, his dreams had a really different course of events actually.
At the calling of his name, or half his name to be more precise, Sherlock turned again to face John. The consulting detective hadn`t realized John moved and he was walking, more like jogging, towards him. Sherlock didn`t have time to move and the punch in his face took him completely by surprise. Once on the floor he could see John walking over his steps over and over, from the window to Sherlock`s and back again. His head was pounding; he touched his face to see if he was bleeding, a warm thread of blood was coming out of his mouth, but nothing else. He had acquired a lot more experience and information about defense and attacks and he knew John`s punch was made strategically not to seriously damage any part of his face, just like that one time long ago; to Sherlock it seemed like centuries ago.
As strange as it may seem that punch brought new hope into Sherlock, along with memories of old times.
Sherlock was holding his weight with one hand and with the other cleaning the blood that was spilling form his lips.
John felt bad about what he did. He certainly didn't want to give Sherlock any reasons to separate himself from him, and John was fairly sure that hitting people was never seen as a symbol of stay with me, even when that was what John actually meant. Now that he was still and looking at Sherlock he could notice that the man was grinning. When Sherlock looked up, John knew his face expressed all the confusion he was feeling because Sherlock`s face went serious again while he tried to stand up.
Sherlock smoothed out his jacket.
"John.." he knew he had to say it, it was the least he owed to his best friend, maybe he only friend. "John, I`m sorry." John, I`m sorry I was away from you so long; I`m sorry if I caused you any distress; I`m sorry I couldn't be a better friend. So many things Sherlock knew he should say; none of them able to go out of his lips nonetheless. "I-I`m sorry." He couldn`t held John`s look any longer, he feared he might shed a tear, but he wasn't going to let that happen; John wasn't going to see him that weak, he had to be strong. He didn`t cried since he jumped from Bart`s roof, he wasn't going to start right in front of the man he most desperately wanted to.
"I can`t forgive you." Those words felt like a knife in Sherlock`s heart and like poison in John`s mouth. "Not yet."
John knew that was half a lie because he craved to touch the consulting detective and feel with his own fingers that Sherlock was real. However, he was still angry Sherlock lied to him for so long and didn`t trusted him with his secret.
Sherlock was looking at him again, but it was different, something in his eyes had changed. It was like there was not shield anymore, like he could see straight to Sherlock`s soul.
That`s what it took John to give in to his wanting and erase the space that separate the two men.
"You idiot." John spoke in almost a whisper, but the almost non-existent distance between them allowed Sherlock to hear it perfectly.
John put his arms around Sherlock`s torso to embrace him in a tight hug. With his head against the man`s chest he could hear the heartbeat accelerating. John wasn`t sure what to make out of it, but it didn't matter at that moment. He was able to feel the warmth through Sherlock`s shirt, he didn't mind to get his sleeves wet because of Sherlock`s coat that was still soaked from the rain. John was a strong man, but to be fair, when your best friend comes from the death and presents himself at your door there is not a customary way to response, so John thought it was not that bad that he didn't manage to keep his defences up. He wasn't about to become a whining, crying middle age man, but a few tears rolling on his cheeks straight to Sherlock`s shirt betrayed him. John hoped Sherlock wouldn`t notice.
Sherlock was truly surprised by John`s embrace. The heat coming from his friend was very comforting, specially after realizing how cold he was form being wet because of the rain. He wasn't used to affectionate display, so the way he should proceed was a mystery for him. Sherlock decided to ignore his mind for just a moment and just listen to the screams of his body and heart telling him to hug him back. Sherlock thought that his arms fitted perfectly above John`s hips, but he got rid of the thought immediately. He noticed John`s back was arching a bit with every breath; obviously he was trying to hold his crying. It was better to say nothing; silence filled the flat. Sherlock leaned his head into John`s crack between his neck and shoulder and decided to stay there as long as John needed it.
There was no movement but the two now synchronised breathing of the men in the middle of the living rom. John calmed that he manage to control his tears and could focus only in the heat coming from the embrace and Sherlock trying to distinguish every scent that he pick from John, that unmistakable John scent that he had missed so much. It was a drug he wans`t thinking on giving up easily.
Neither of them knew that hard times were just at the next corner. Neither of them really cared.
