Author's Note: Sorry for the wait, as usual. I'm terrible at keeping up with this, but I'm trying. :) Let me know what you think!
Three days pass before John works up the nerve to visit 221B. He'll speak with Mrs. Hudson. It's the least he can do. He knows Sherlock's death… absence wasn't easy for her either. He spoke to her only a few times after it happened. Then he moved out and lost contact completely. It was selfish of him, he knows, to hide away. But he couldn't be there. Couldn't bear it. Now, knowing Sherlock is alive, the idea seems more manageable.
"Mrs. Hudson," he says with a nod when she opens the door. She doesn't look much different. A bit older. Well, she is a bit older. She pulls him into a long hug.
"John, dear." Her grip is strong. John had imagined she might cry, but she doesn't. Strong, strong Mrs. Hudson. Much stronger than he was.
"He's told you then," she says when she releases him and invites him in. They don't go into 221B. John still isn't sure he can. He follows Mrs. Hudson into another flat. Her flat? How strange he's never seen it. Maybe he has. He can't remember. They each sit on opposite couches in the main room.
"How long have you known?" John asks, his voice sharper than he intended.
"Not long." She shakes her head. "One day he was dead, and the next he was in my kitchen, demanding I let him move back into the flat."
John runs his hands over his face. "Yes, that's basically how he told me, too."
"I'm so sorry, dear," she says, reaching across to take John's hand.
"You're sorry?" he says, letting her hold him but hardly squeezing her hand back.
"I'm sorry for what you've been through. He didn't know," she says softly. "He never knows. Can't see what's right in front of him. Doesn't understand love at all, poor boy. He feels it but he doesn't understand…"
"Mrs. Hudson." John shakes his head. "Please. It was never like that."
She eyes him knowingly. "Of course not. But you were friends. And Sherlock Holmes doesn't truly understand friendship either, does he?" She drops John's hand and stands up. She walks into the kitchen. "Tea?"
"No thanks," John mutters. He has no appetite. Not even enough for a drink.
"You'll be moving back in then?" she calls from the kitchen.
"No," John says shortly. Mrs. Hudson sets down her cup in the kitchen. The porcelain clank against the counter is loud, harsh. She steps back into the sitting room.
"No," she repeats, her eyes narrowed.
"I don't know." John presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He shuts his eyes, willing away the tears that threaten to fall from them. "I don't know what to do," he says after a moment.
Mrs. Hudson sits next to him. She wraps her arm around his shoulder. "Sherlock is a stupid man." John catches her eye. She smirks. "Brilliant, of course. Absolutely brilliant. But stupid."
"Yes," John mutters bitterly. "Yes, I agree."
"But he means well. John Watson, you know he means well. He always has."
"He can't," John stops. Draws a sharp breath. "He can't just come back and act as if nothing's happened. He let me think he was dead."
"I know," she says and nothing more.
"I'm sorry," John says, recognizing the pain in her eyes. "God, I'm sorry. Listen to me. He let you think he was gone too and here I am rambling along. I'm a right mess."
"I think you should move back in," Mrs. Hudson says after a moment.
"Do you really?"
"It would be good for everyone."
John sits beside her for what feels like hours before he stands and heads for the door. "I'll move back in," he says before he leaves. "But I don't want him here, Mrs. Hudson. Not yet."
She nods and gives him a small smile. "Of course, dear."
He leaves.
John hears from Sherlock again the next morning. He doesn't arrive at his door as he's done before. He sends John a short text.
You're moving back in. – SH
Yes.
Good. – SH
John doesn't answer Sherlock's second text. He stares at it, clenches his fist at his side and focuses on his breathing.
John, you should initial your texts so the recipient knows that you sent the message. – SH
Who else would answer my texts?
You still didn't initial the message. – SH
Fine. – JW
Are you happy? – JW
The happiest I've been in quite a while. – SH
John doesn't know how to respond, so he doesn't. Sherlock doesn't text him again that day. John boxes up his belongings and begins moving them back to 221B. He doesn't have much these days. Sherlock was always the one with the clutter. John's never needed much. By the end of the day he's already moved most of his things. Only a few more large boxes to go. He'll get them tomorrow.
He dreams of Sherlock again. He dreams that they're back at Baker Street. Home. He dreams that they're together in John's bed, wrapped in each other's arms. And though John is somehow aware that he's dreaming, he doesn't pull away from Sherlock; instead he pulls him closer. He feels the rise and fall of his chest and he pushes his face into Sherlock's hair. He breathes him in. Time slips away.
When he wakes the next morning his bed feels too empty. But that's nothing out of the ordinary. It always feels too empty. He prepares his final boxes for 221B. He hasn't eaten in days. He isn't hungry.
He's completely moved out of his small flat by midday. Despite being filled with boxes, 221B hasn't changed. It's exactly as he remembered. Mrs. Hudson left the large furniture in place. Sentiment, John thinks. He winces when he realizes that he can clearly hear the word in his mind in Sherlock's questioning voice.
John sits in his old chair and tries not to think about the days he spent here following Sherlock's jump. He pulls out his phone.
Back in 221B. Mrs. Hudson didn't move a thing.
Sentiment. – SH
John smiles at his phone. The movement feels foreign on his face.
Probably.
John waits for a reply but doesn't get one. He grows impatient.
It's not the same without you.
He sends the message quickly, before his brain has time to register that it's a terrible idea.
Are you asking me to move back in? – SH
No.
I'll come by tomorrow. – SH
No. Not tomorrow. Have to unpack.
I'll help you. – SH
You'd hate it. Only be a nuisance.
True. – SH
You still don't initial your messages. – SH
Bugger off. – JW
See you tomorrow. - SH
