I hadn't really paid any attention to where we were going but we soon found ourselves at Speedy's. We took a quiet booth along the wall and ordered. In the meantime I peppered Sherlock with questions while he texted John to meet us there.

Soon we got our drinks and after I took a long drink and settled back into my seat I told him, "You know, Anderson always believed that you were still alive. He was always trying to convince us."

Sherlock nearly choked on his drink he was so shocked.

"Anderson?". He asked incredulously, full of doubt. "No way. Not Anderson."

"Yeah. Seriously. Anderson."

"How the hell did he figure it out? Better yet, if it was, apparently such an obvious strategy that he, of all people, got it, then why couldn't you and John get it?"

While Greg was floundering with his answer, John walked in. He spotted the pair and headed in their direction.

Before John could say or do anything, even sit down, Sherlock closed his eyes, scrunched up his face and said, "John, please tell me that it really wasn't Anderson that was the only one who knew I was alive that whole time."

John stole a glace at Greg who shrugged at him. John grinned as he proceeded to take off his jacket and slide into the booth next to Sherlock without answering. Leave it to Sherlock's pride to be offended by that.

But it was Greg who spoke up first with an exasperated sigh. "You know you are making us feel like foolish asses, right?"

"But I don't understand Detective Inspector," he emphasized, "how Anderson, of all people, was..."

"Look," Greg interrupted. "After your funeral, Anderson got really obsessed with you and how you had to have survived the fall; and some of his theories were pretty far out. It got so bad he couldn't do his work and he had to resign. He took a job at a newspaper stand so he could keep track of your movements he said.". At this point Greg looked at John hoping for some help with this part. "He tried to convince all of us; he even started a Sherlock Lives group." Greg continued. "And if you hadn't done such a bang up job to make everyone believe you really did kill yourself..." Greg trailed off when he got a look at Sherlock's face right then. There was a mixture of sadness and pain in his eyes as he absent-mindedly toyed with the condensation on his glass.

There was an awkward silence for a minute.

"I didn't want it to have to be that way.". Sherlock said quietly without looking up. "I wanted to come back sooner...I wanted to at least send you a message that I was alive...but I had to stay away and take down everyone I could of Moriarty's network...I had to know everyone would be safe again.".

"For two bloody long years.". John said with a bit of anger in his tone.

Sherlock winced.

Greg wanted to change the dark mood that had come over them. "But you're back now.". He said as he playfully slapped the back of Sherlock's shoulder. "Time to celebrate. And we have a lot of time to make up for."

That got a weak smile from John and Sherlock both.

"Cheers to life.". Greg toasted as he raised his glass in front of his friends.

"Cheers.". John and Sherlock repeated and raised their glasses to meet Greg's and the glasses clinked together.

For a fleeting moment it came into Sherlock's head the complexity of their friendship dynamic. He never thought he would have such close friends. He thought he would always make enemies instead of friends. Enemies were certainly easier to make. But these two men...he trusted them implicitly, wanted to protect them (unfortunately, that's what the whole charade of his death had been about, protecting them) and over the course of time he could see the changes for the better that they had brought about in him as well. It had been a necessary, but very hard, two years. He had missed them, even their faults. What he still found strange though was how much they had seemed to miss him too.

The purpose of his life was to solve any puzzle, play any game, catch any criminal...but they put meaning behind that purpose. They reminded him to be human. It warmed Sherlock's heart in a strange way.

Sherlock shook his head to clear it from the comforting, yet unfamiliar, feelings. And he finished his drink all at once.

"Time to go." He said as he proceeded to start pushing John out so he could get out.

Rather than be pushed into the floor, John stood up and let his friend out.

"What? Why?". John asked confused.

"Yeah. We just got here. We've got a lot of catching up to do.". Greg added.

Sherlock turned back to them. He had that I'm-going-to-cause-havoc look.

"I need a newspaper.". He stated and turned on his heels and walked out.

John didn't sit back down but turned to Greg and asked, "Do you think we should follow him?"

Greg threw down the rest of his drink really quickly, grabbed his coat and as he got out of the booth he said, "Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss Anderson's face for anything."

And the both ran out after their favorite detective.