A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, I'm just visiting around with them.

He looked around the crowded train station, searching the sea of people for that one face that he knew wouldn't be there but hoped would be anyway. John remembered the angry words they had exchanged before he had left and Sherlock's face as it turned to heated stone as it did when he spoke to people who hurt and disgusted him.

What was the fight about anyway? An experiment that had gone wrong, he remembered. Sherlock had gotten sidetrack and miscalculated something he was mixing. John didn't know what it was and neither did he care as he stared open-mouthed at the ruins of what had been their brand new kitchen table.

Sherlock knew what he had done was more than a bit not good and he tried to scramble around to clean up the mess, but John, who was usually an extremely patient man had been beyond upset that day. It didn't help that this wasn't their first argument that week and there was already tension between them, as Sherlock was going through a difficult case and John's shoulder had been hurting more than usual and every day in the little flat seemed like a battlefield.

John was supposed to have been leaving, at that moment, for a much needed a vacation at Stamford's for a couple of days. Instead, he spent an hour cleaning up from the Kitchen Table Tragedy and missed his train. By the time he had finished lugging the remains of the table out to the bin in the back alley, while Sherlock flitted around looking at his experiment notes, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong, John had completely lost control of his temper.

"If you were just a normal flatmate who didn't do asinine experiments at indecent hours and destroy everything in sight and would only try to be more considerate of other people!"

"If you don't like my experiments and what I do, you can always leave and get a normal flatmate."

"I think I will leave, maybe that way I'll have decent chance at a normal life."

"Good, I don't need you anyway, so don't look back when you leave, because I won't."

John flinched as he remembered the look on Sherlock's face as John's last words hit him. John never imagined he would be the one to put a look of such anger and hurt on Sherlock's face. He sighed as he sat down on one of the train station benches. All during his stay at Stamford's he had thought about the fight and if either of them truly meant what they had said.

I hurt him.

They had gotten into plenty of rows before but they had never threatened to part ways from each other, at least not until now. Sherlock was supposed to pick him up from the station, they had decided the day before the fight happened, and John figured that today would be the deciding factor of the truth, whether Sherlock showed up for him or not.

They both had had a couple of days to cool down. John had wanted to text Sherlock and apologize but he always stopped himself, he was tired of always being the one to make the first move. His phone was strangely quiet the last few days, no annoying text messages from Sherlock asking him when he would be home or if he would buy milk or pick up a cow's liver for him. Usually his phone would be going off at least every half hour, but not this time. As John sat and thought about it, he didn't think that Sherlock would have replied even if he had tried to text him.

I was wrong.

He glanced down at his watch, he had been at the station thirty minutes now, and Sherlock wasn't coming. John had let his tongue and temper get the best of him this time and if he knew anything at all, it was that Sherlock Holmes was not a forgiver and he never forgot what he said.

Well John, this it, he isn't coming, we messed up big time and there is no going back. He sighed and rubbed his hand across his face, wishing that words could be taken back as easily as they were said.

"How was the train ride?, boring as always, I imagine." Startled out of his thoughts, John glanced up to see Sherlock looking down at him, apprehensively.

"You came back, I… I didn't think you would, that's why I was late, I wasn't sure..." Sherlock hesitated at John's silence, he wasn't sure if John was even listening or that he cared any more at all after what Sherlock had said that dreadful day.

John looked down at the floor for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts; he could feel Sherlock's uneasiness around him. Sherlock didn't know what to expect from him, neither did John, to be perfectly honest with himself. John wanted to tell him that he was sorry and that he hadn't meant what he said, but he could still hear Sherlock's words echo in his mind "Good, I don't need you anyway so don't look back when you leave, because I won't."

We were wrong.

He decided it was now or never now and it didn't matter if they were no longer flat mates. He couldn't let Sherlock walk away without telling him he was sorry. John took a breath to steady himself as he raised his head and looked at his former flatmate.

"Sherlock, what I said… well, it was terribly unfair and I was wrong. You don't have to forgive me, Sherlock, because I will never forgive myself, but I just wanted you to know before we..."

His voice trailed off, and with a helpless wave of his hands, he fell silent, not able to bring himself to finish. Their eyes met, distraught grey on saddened blue as they searched for forgiveness.

Sherlock looked away from John, not being able to look into those blue eyes any longer, relief at John's words flooded over Sherlock, maybe they still have a chance after all. His voice was filled with almost child like sadness.

"I... I forgot to say good-bye, I should have never let you go without at least saying good bye. That's what people do isn't it, John? Say good bye."

The desperate tone and unselfish words tugged at John, he could see the worry lines on his friend's face as he stated his remorse. John nodded as he sighed.

"Yeah, Sherlock, that's what people should do, and I didn't even think about it." Shame filled him again as he remembered his last words. Not "Good-bye Sherlock, take care of yourself and I'll be home soon." But only, "I think I will leave, maybe that way I'll have decent chance at a normal life." The look on Sherlock's face made John look away as tears burned his eyes.

"I said I wouldn't look back... but I did..." Sherlock's voice trailed off in a defeated whisper.

I'm Sorry. Forgive me.

John stood and walked over to Sherlock, and he hugged him. Sherlock was completely taken aback, as he was unfamiliar with hugs and he had no idea what do with them. So he just stood frozen in dread at what this gesture might mean, people hugged each other when they said good-bye, didn't they?

This was it, John really was leaving and everything he had said that day was true. John could sense Sherlock's worried over thinking. "You know, hugs are also a way of saying hello and welcome back."

As he spoke, he immediately felt the stiffness and anxiety in Sherlock's body melt away as he finally understood John's meaning and slowly, he returned John's embrace. As he hugged John, all the worry and regret faded to hope, and relief filled him that they were both forgiven and they could continue on like they used to be, "Come on, you," John said after he finally let go of his friend and flatmate, "Let's go home."

I'm forgiven.

"So did you miss me?" Sherlock asked a few minutes later as they walked side by side towards the exit. John smiled at him. "No, not really."

"Oh…" Sherlock look downcast again, the disappointment returning. John rolled his eyes. "Okay, yes maybe a little."

"A little what?" Sherlock prodded in excited expectation, his eyebrows raised. John sighed "Yes, I missed your stupid face."

Sherlock didn't think he had ever heard more beautiful words.