Sherlock. October 18th, 2014.

"I've solved his final problem." I pressed the gun to Moran's head.

"Just because you kill me you think it's over?"

"I know it's over, I'm 100% certain when I pull this trigger that no one is left to hurt my John."

"Your John?" He laughed at me.

I pulled the trigger and it was all over. "No more loose ends."

I've killed more people than I ever thought I would. I've been at war for 2 years and four months and 2 days. I've slept in places I could have probably died. I've kept hidden during the day for the most part, living in the night. I hurt a lot of people. I got hurt many times. But it was worth it. The entire 2 years had been filled with pain but now I was going to get to go home.

I sent Lestrade a text where to find the body, only a block from John and Mary's place, and then I went to Baker Street. A day ago I let Mrs. Hudson in on the secret that I was alive because I was soon going to need a flat to live and there was a vacancy at 221B. She cried, she yelled, but mostly she was happy to see me.

The flat looked like a more cleaned up version of what it had been before, it was also missing some of my equipment but Molly had all that at her flat. Mrs. Hudson had put back all the things Mycroft had been storing for me. She probably worked all night at making it feel like my home again.

It felt completely right to be pacing around 221B. My body was pumping with adrenaline. I couldn't stand being still. The fact that John was going to be walking up the stairs at any moment made me anxious. I may have not been physically dead over the last 2 years but I certainly was dead in some way. Emotionally. Everyone that knows me or of me would scoff at that because I don't have emotions but this assessment would be wrong. Everyone has emotions, the metaphorical heart, and mine had been crushed.

"Congratulations dear brother, it only took two years." Mycroft appeared in the doorway.

"You're mocking me, now?"

"I'm joking."

"No time to joke." I adjusted the skull on the mantel.

"Ah, yes John is coming. How'd you get him here?"

"Mrs. Hudson called for tea."

"And he's going to come up here?"

"Yes, she'll get him up here." I paused. "You leaked the video?"

"I did."

The video of me exiting Scotland Yard on CCTV from as many different cameras possible and they all had time stamps along with a man walking out in front of me with the day's paper.

"It should be on telly any moment, shall we turn it on?"

"No, hopefully John will be here by then."

"He's on his way. He took a cab so there's no chance he'll find out from someone else."

"Hopefully it's not on the radio."

"Cabbie is one of my men, wanted to make sure he got here safely." My brother revealed to me.

"Good, good."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what? I'm a live, obvious."

"No, don't be daft Sherlock. Tell him you love him, you keep that letter you wrote him on you, you should give it to him."

Ah, the love letter. I've folded it and unfolded it many times. It was as creased and aged as John's face had become over that time which I found to be fitting. "How'd you know about the letter?"

"It had fallen out of your pocket once."

The capillaries in my face widened, blood rushed to my cheeks and I began to sweat. Embarrassment.

"It's very sweet, wondering why he didn't touch you and proclaiming love."

"Stop it Mycroft."

"Telling him-"

"Stop it, leave, now."

"Very well then, very well. I have a lot to do, mostly because of you. Make sure John writes an entry about this."

"Sure."

There were more important things I needed to tell John than to write a blog post about me returning.

Only 45 seconds after Mycroft's car drove off I heard a cab approach, stop, the door open downstairs, and then talking between Mrs. Hudson and John. I couldn't make out what she said to him to have him come up the stairs, the 5th step squeaking under his pressure.

The door opened with a creak and suddenly I was unsure of my position. I didn't want to completely stun him but where would be a-"Sh-Sherlock-what?" My eyes met his. Shock. Fear. Anger. It seemed that every emotion that was categorized as bad appeared to be there and the ones I wanted weren't.

"John, I-"

"No." His knees were weak under him so he slid down the wall in the living room. "No."

I moved a bit closer to him.

"You're dead Sherlock. You fucking lying arse!"

"I know, let me-"

"You don't get to tell me anything."

"I-"

"I don't want to hear your voice."

I bit my cheek.

"How could you do that to me? For 2 years! No contact, nothing. I thought my best mate killed himself and I saw it all happen. Left me with the bloody awful call." He put his head between his knees. "Leave."

"Leave?" I knelt in front of him and placed my hand on his leg.

"Yes! Leave, get out of here. I don't want to see your face I've been fine for 2 years without it." John yelled at me.

"But-"

"Leave. You can come back if you want when I go back home-to my flat. With my wife."

I went down to Mrs. Hudson's because I couldn't leave through the throngs of reporters. This was good because maybe John wouldn't be able to go home either. We'd be holed up here for some time and we'd actually be able to have a proper talk.

"Oh dear, he's just in shock, he'll get over it soon enough."

I sat down for some tea and waited.

John. Earlier in the day.

"Would you like to come to Mrs. Hudson's for some tea?"

"No thank you darling, long shift last night." Mary pecked me on the cheek. "Tell her I said hello."

"I will."

Things have been going along just fine since my minor melt down on the anniversary of his jump. The frequencies of Sherlock sightings had slowed down. I've fallen into a nice routine again and Mary and I haven't had many rows. I've even lent a hand to Greg when there were a few cases he wanted my medical opinion on. It was nice. I had been carrying my gun around me everywhere too. I'm just worried that Moran's group is after me but it doesn't seem to be that way because nothing has happened. Everything has been boring, really.

"Oh John!" Mrs. Hudson was oddly happy over seeing me.

"Hello."

"Would you mind doing me a favour?"

"What's that?"

"There's a leak upstairs in the kitchen sink. Could you check it?"

"Sure." I looked up the stairs. I haven't been up to the flat since I came to collect my things.

I climbed the stairs slowly because I was nervous. I immediately told myself to stop being stupid over it because it's just a flat now.

Then I opened the door to find him standing in the middle of the living room. He was pale, skinnier than before, and he had bags under his eyes. He was ghost.

Everything that happened was a blur. I wouldn't let him explain these last 2 years and I forced him out of what now was his place again. As fast as he was back in my life, he was gone. It was like he was a figment of my imagination. But he wasn't that or a ghost because he put his hand on my knee and I felt the warmth of his body. He wasn't a bloody cold corpse. Leave it to Sherlock Holmes to rise from the dead.

I couldn't get my brain going. I couldn't move. I sat on the floor for what was probably an hour. I couldn't think even once I stood up. I was dropped into some alternative reality. It was all-wrong. I had a normal life. It took me 2 years but I was normal. Well for the most part, aside from carry my gun on me. But I was doing well. Here he was to mess it up. I wanted him back for so long and now he's here and its all wrong.

I looked out the window to see paparazzi. Now everyone knows. I guess I should take some sort of consolation that I was the first to know.

No, I wasn't the first. Why would I be the first? Mrs. Hudson obviously knew.

I sent a text to Lestrade telling him I couldn't get out of Baker Street and he said to give him 10 minutes to take care of it. He probably knew.

I went down to Mrs. Hudson's. "How long have you known?" I asked before turning into the kitchen to find her sitting with him.

"Only a day dear."

"Who else knows? Molly? Greg? Your brother? Does Mike know? My old rugby mates? People at the surgery?"

"John, I-" He blue eyes looked sad but that's his own fault.

"You what?"

"I did this so-"

"I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear you so shut up and bugger off."

He gestured to the window, "I would but the-"

"You've been hidden for over 2 years!" I shouted.

"Do keep it down John, they might hear." Mrs. Hudson was nervous.

"Hear what? That Holmes and Watson aren't going to be solving all the crimes in London…Not that I solved any crimes, I was just there to be your sodding secretary and take care of you. You've done fine with out me for all this time. Won't be needing me now."

"I h-"

"I can't listen to you. Don't speak."

"But you're talking to me!" He finally snapped then sunk into the chair.

"I'm waiting in the entry way to go be with the only person who hasn't lied to me."

"Mike hasn't lied." He said softly as I went outside.

He didn't realise that it confirmed to me that everyone else we were mutually friends with did.

Greg sent an officer to help usher me out and give me a ride home, which was crawling with people as well. Everyone was hurling questions at me. I just yelled I didn't know over and over again.

When I got upstairs to my flat Mary was glued to the TV. "He's-"

"Alive? Yeah. Mrs. Hudson got me there so he-" I just shook my head. "I was lied to by my friends."

"Did he tell you why?"

"I wouldn't let him."

She made a face. "According to the news this Moran character was working for Moriarty and the only way that you and your friends wouldn't get killed was for Sherlock to die. So he faked his own death and helped the government go after the rest of the web. The night that sniper tried to kill you Sherlock actually was the one who got him. They said that the police shot him but we know that's a lie."

"He did this for me." I laughed. "He saved his friends?" I couldn't stop laughing, just like the night of my book release.

"Why is it funny?"

"Because Sherlock doesn't do anything for anyone but himself, Mary." I finally sat on the couch. They were showing a clip of him walking out of Scotland Yard yesterday before cutting to a reporter in from of 221B. "He looks so clever. He's tearing at the seams right now to tell someone how he jumped and survived and how he hid. He wasn't working with the government, that's Mycroft's doing."

"I thought you'd be so happy." Mary looked confused.

"Is there a way you should act in this situation of your former best mate rising from the grave?"

"No but…I thought you'd be ecstatic."

"How can I be when everyone was lying to me?" We sat in silence for some time, just watching the news. They were all speculating about Sherlock but he'll tell them soon enough. "He'll want everything to be back to normal." I said abruptly.

"Huh?" She seemed a bit surprised I spoke.

"He'll want me around, he'll think that I'll be there to go running about London in the middle of the night."

"I don't think he'll think you'll want to do anything if you didn't even speak to him."

"You don't know Sherlock."

It felt strange to talk about him in the present tense.