A/N As I promised, here is the second chapter because this one is a bit shorter (only one page shorter but, meh).

After they had all been thrown out of the restaurant, the three of them relocated themselves to a café. John had reluctantly 'introduced' his old friend to his date and Sherlock learnt her name was Mary Morstan.

The three of them were seated at a table, Sherlock facing John and Mary sitting in front of him. They both looked at him, their arms folded. Sherlock had his fingers steepled in front of him.

Now that they had arrived at the explanation of how things had went down, Sherlock started to feel a bit more relaxed.

"I calculated that there were thirteen possibilities once I'd invited Moriarty onto the roof," Sherlock began explaining. "I wanted to avoid dying if at all possible. Now, the first scenario involved hurling myself into a parked hospital van filled with washing bags. Impossible. The angle was too steep. Secondly, a system of Japanese wrestling..."

"You know, for a genius you can be remarkably thick," John snarled at him.

"What?"

"I don't care how you faked it, Sherlock. I wanna know why," John said in a clipped tone.

"Why?" Sherlock asked a bit bewildered. "Because Moriarty had to be stopped!" Hmm, judging the look on John's face that was not what he wanted to hear. Then it hit him...

"Oh. Why as in..." Sherlock raised his finger and briefly pointed at John. John gave him a quiet nod.

"I see. Yes. Why?" Sherlock began slowly. "That's a little more difficult to explain."

"I've got all night," John glowered darkly.

Sherlock cleared his throat. This was going to get really awkward. "Actually, um, that was mostly Mycroft's idea."

"Oh, so it's your brother's plan?" John said scathingly.

Mary pointed at Sherlock, "Oh, he would have needed a confidant..." she stated.

Sherlock nodded at her in agreement. "Mm-hm." She was a clever girl. Not like one of those dimwitted, harebrained girls John used to date.

John sent Mary a warning look. "Sorry," she muttered. She refolded her arms again in solidarity to John.

"But he was the only one? The only one who knew?" John pressed on.

Sherlock closed his eyes briefly. Really, really, awkward... "C-couple of others," he finally admitted. Seeing the murderous look creep back in John's eyes again, Sherlock hurried to explain. "It was a very elaborate plan. It had to be. The next of the thirteen possibilities..."

"Who else?" John asked softly, cutting him off again. "Who. Else. Knew?"

Sherlock swallowed again. Really, really, really awkward...

"Who?"

"Molly," Sherlock said.

"Molly?" John echoed him in a scathing voice.

"John," Mary admonished him.

"Molly Hooper... and some of my homeless network, and that's all.

"Okay," John said. He straightened himself up a bit and glanced at Mary, who gave him an empathic smile. He turned to face Sherlock again. "Okay. So, just your brother, and Molly Hooper, and a hundred tramps."

Sherlock chuckled. "No! Twenty-five at most."

For the second time that evening, John hurled himself across the table in an attempt to throttle his former friend as they both tumbled to the floor. And for the second time of the evening, they found themselves thrown out of an establishment.

SSS

In a kebab shop, John and Mary were leaning against the counter. Sherlock had folded his Belstaff coat over the back of a chair that stood behind him near a table. He held a napkin pressed against a cut on his lower lip and he winced slightly. Ouch, it stung!

John glared at him. "And Kyrie?" he asked angrily. "You didn't bother to check in with her either, huh? Your own bloody wife. What are we to you, Sherlock? Pets? Pets you can take home with you and then discard them as you see fit?"

"Of course not," Sherlock mumbled.

"You really have no idea, have you? What your death did to us? To her? Even with all the pain and grief, I was actually the lucky one, Sherlock, because I met Mary. Kyrie didn't have that kind of luck. She had no one but your parents for a short while. You broke her, Sherlock. You BROKE her!" John snarled at him.

Sherlock flinched and didn't know where to look. With how things were going, he was starting to dread having to confront Kyrie.

"Her grief had to be real, John. While I was away dismantling Moriarty's network, only her grief would be able to keep her safe from... you know."

They were quiet for a moment and Sherlock started to wish he could press some kind of forward button so he could skip to where things would be back to normal again... if they ever would get back to normal. Try for a joke again?

"Seriously, it's not a joke?" He pointed to his upper lip, "You're... you're really keeping this?"

John cleared his throat and cast an angry glare at Sherlock. "Yeah," he said.

"You're sure?"

"Mary likes it."

Sherlock briefly glanced at Mary. "Mmmmmm, no she doesn't."

"She does," John said in disagreement.

"She doesn't," Sherlock countered and pressed the napkin back against the cut, as if that was the end of the discussion.

John turned his head to look at Mary. His eyes suddenly grew large and Mary made a few spluttering noises.

"Oh!" he cried out trying to cover his moustache with his hand. "Brilliant."

"I'm sorry. Oh, I'm sorry... I didn't know how to tell you," Mary sounded all apologetic.

"No, no, this is charming!" John said agitated while looking at Mary. He pointed angrily in Sherlock's direction. "I've really missed this!" he snapped. Sherlock had a feeling John was referring to his talent of instant deduction.

Though John had always been an open admirer of his skills, Sherlock suspected that John was at the moment more likely to tell him to 'Piss off'.

Suddenly John took a fierce step in Sherlock's direction, so he was facing him up close and personal.

"One word, Sherlock," he hissed. "That is all I would have needed. All Kyrie would have needed. One word to let us know that you were alive." John took a step back again, trying to regain his composure.

"I wanted to, John," Sherlock began quietly. "Believe me, there were so many times I nearly did it... tried to contact you, and her. But..."

John chuckled sardonically.

"... I worried that, you know, you might say something indiscreet."

"What?

"Well, you know, let the cat out of the bag."

John immediately stepped right in front of Sherlock again. "Oh, so this is my fault?"

"Oh God!" Mary exclaimed. Sherlock couldn't blame her. He himself too was starting to feel like he'd been roped into some kind of variety show.

John started to lose his temper again. "Why am I the only one who thinks that this is wrong... the only one reacting like a human being?!" He yelled.

"Over-reacting," Sherlock averred.

"Over-reacting?!" John screeched and he looked about ready to pop a vein.

"John!" Mary warned him.

"Over-reacting... So you fake your own death..."

"Shh!" Sherlock tried to warn him.

"... and you waltz in 'ere large as bloody life..."

"Shh!" Sherlock warned him again.

John tempered his volume a bit. "... but I'm not supposed to have a problem with that, no, because Sherlock Holmes thinks it's a perfectly OKAY THING TO DO!"

John was right back at yelling again but this time Sherlock lost his temper too. "Shut up, John!" He bellowed. "I don't want everyone knowing I'm still alive!"

"Oh, so it's still a secret, is it?" John yelled.

"Yes! It's still a secret!" Sherlock cried out, sneaking a look a the other customers in the shop. "Promise you won't tell anyone," he remarked dryly.

"Swear to God!" John hissed. He then seemed to notice the other customers as well and he backed down a bit, suddenly looking a bit self-conscious. He breathed out slowly.

"London is in danger, John. There's an imminent terrorist attack and I need your help."

John stared at him, a look of amazement in his eyes. Ah, Sherlock knew the old John was still in there somewhere! John did share a bit of an odd look with Mary though.

"My help?" John said, as if he couldn't believe his ears.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes a bit before he curled his lips in a wide smile. "You have missed this. Admit it. The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through your veins, just the two of us against the rest of the world..."

He did not get a chance to finish his sentence, as John grabbed his lapels for the third time that evening.

When John reared his head back, that really should have been a warning sign for Sherlock, but he'd been too caught up, revelling in that old feeling that started to creep back... The Game is on... Instead, his world exploded in sparkles and pain when John's hard head connected with his face.

SSS

Not long after, Sherlock found himself looking up at the night sky, holding his head back as blood kept running from his nose.

"I don't understand," he whined. "I said I'm sorry. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?" He pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, held the paper napkin underneath with his other and then slowly tilted his head forward.

Mary was standing next to him, her hands buried deep inside the pockets of her coat. She watched as John tried to hail them a cab, without much luck so far.

"Gosh. You don't know anything about human nature, do you?" she asked, looking him up and down as if he were some kind of alien.

Sherlock studied her face. "Mmm, nature? No. Human...? No," he said softly, and he sent her a self-mocking smile. His look turned more serious. "Do you know if he and... Kyrie... kept in touch?" he asked tentatively.

"They didn't," she told him. "They both had a hard time, you know, coping..."

Sherlock nodded his head, though in all honesty, he couldn't really relate. Those were the kind of emotional intricacies that always seemed to elude him. "They haven't been in touch at all?" he asked quietly.

"They only met recently again. And I only know because I was there."

His head shot up and he stared at her with an intense look in his eyes. "You've seen her?"

Mary looked at him with curiosity. "Yes, I have," she replied thoughtfully.

"How was she?"

"Well, I think she looked absolutely stunning. I mean... any prettier than that and I probably would have hated her," Mary said with a wry smile. "Thank God she appeared to be pretty aloof... Nice, but... aloof. According to John, though, she looked terrible."

"Kyrie is anything but aloof," Sherlock said sadly.

"Hate to break it to you then, but I don't think you will find her quite the same as when you left."

Sherlock looked at John and felt quite forlorn. He had not been able to rekindle his friendship with John and from what they had told him, it was very unlikely that Kyrie would respond any differently.

He remembered her easygoing nature, how she used to readily forgive him anything. He was hoping some of that forgiving nature was still there.

"I'll talk him round."

Sherlock took the napkin from under his nose and he cast her a curious glance. "You will?" he asked in astonishment.

Mary smiled at him with the self-assurance of a woman who knew how much she was loved and valued. "Oh yeah," she said.

He took a closer look at her and suddenly he noticed stuff that he hadn't notice before. He saw that she was an only child, a linguist... she was clever... oh yes, she was very clever... part time nurse, she was short-sighted and she baked her own bread, like Kyrie... she loved cats and clearly she was a romantic. Somehow he sensed she was hiding things as well. For John's sake, he didn't dwell too long on that thought.

"Mary!" John called out at her. Sherlock looked up and saw John had managed to get them a cab. She gave him a quick smile before she turned away and joined John. Sherlock stared after them until the taxi drove off.

With a resigned sigh, he started moving. Well, his reunion with John hadn't exactly gone as he'd hoped. Now it was time to see what his reunion with Kyrie would bring.