He sat there, waiting for the doctors reply. Sherlock was willing to do anything to come back. The wind cut through his jacket, chilling him to the bone whilst John sat up in the flat near the fire, hands trembling. Unwilling to believe what was happening, but wanting it to be more than anything. He had imagined this scenario a million times over in his head, each time requiring him 3 more appointments with his therapist. He had to reply, he had to.
Tell me something only Sherlock would know –JW
There were many things that everyone knew about them, like how John would always eat and Sherlock would not and how John would spend hours trying to get him to take care of himself. These things everyone knew. It had to be personal, something only himself and Sherlock had been through, done together. He cast his mind back, trying to remember things that would have happened. He had no idea that Sherlock was waiting outside, and he merely needed to open the door to prove this all reality. If he didn't have his limp he could have left the moment he clicked send, walked to door and opened it to see the phone go off in Sherlock's hand. He would have seen how the smile emerged on his face, knowing the memory he was going to use, knowing it was one they both laughed about time and time again. He would see how Sherlock stood against the cold wind, and the rain that started to fall soaking him, he would see how he stood here waiting for him. His phone went off in his hand again, and again, and again. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. This could all be saved if he only walked downstairs he would see Sherlock chuckling to himself over this little fact.
You shout at chip and pin machines- SH
You are an amazing friend –SH
The day I died. The last thing you said to me 'you are a machine' –SH
If only John had walked to the door, he would have seen how those words still stung Sherlock. He would have seen the pain from that moment relive in his eyes. John sat there bemused. These things he said... those words. No one else was in that lab the moment he said it. Those words he had hated himself for saying to Sherlock, for being the last thing he said to him, for it being a pure lie. There's no way this could be real though, actually real. This had to be a strong hallucination. It had to be, he had watched Sherlock fall, watched him die. Yet as he sat there he knew, he knew at the bottom of his heart that no one but himself and Sherlock knew of these. That compliment, Sherlock reiterating himself after that case with the dog.
Stop... Sherlock? Is it really you? –JW
Sherlock felt himself smile, he knew he had gotten through to John, knew he was nearly there. He had to be honest though, he had to tell him how these times hadn't been easy on himself. He wanted to go up now, and hold the doctor, tell him he was alright, that everything was alright now. He wanted to stop John shaking as he was now, cure him of that awful limp. He wanted to wipe away those tears from his face, for once Sherlock had no idea what was going on.
Those words hurt John. From any other persons mouth it wouldn't have hurt, but from yours... John you mean so much to me. I died for you, and I would die for you again –SH
Sherlock could feel the tears build, remembering why he had done this. Why had protected John. He knew John had no idea, that he had never had the smallest idea of how much he had been through for him. John sat up in his chair, feeling these words hit home. He read that text over and over again. Trying to make sense of it, the questions that formed from it. All the underlying contents of the words. John had no idea how to react. He knew Sherlock was alive; this was all too... private to be fake. The texts where to formatted to be his mind creating this up. He couldn't go through this again, if this really were Sherlock, he couldn't go through this again. The rain got heavier against the window, and he wondered where Sherlock was texting him all of this. He hoped he was safe.
Don't ever die again –JW
John was shaking worse than ever now. Sherlock was alive, and he was talking to him. This wasn't a trick, he needed to know where he was. As John sat there debating about what to do, Sherlock struggled to text back to him, the rain falling on his phone causing his screen to becoming wet, his gloves were soaked, and he had no dry clothing on him. The wind now stronger cut through him worse than before, yet he refused to move. He would not enter until John was ready, but this was painful. Standing in this weather, standing out here, so close to John, so close to finishing this plan. Sherlock managed to wipe the rain drops off the screen, he was shivering. His reply was re-written many times before there were no spelling mistakes, or double letters. This all had to be perfect, he couldn't seem weaker in his absence. The words that John had sent ran through his head repeatedly. He still didn't understand, Sherlock was upset and angry, how could John not have worked out it was all for him. He couldn't help but snap slightly at Johns words.
Moriarty... he...he had a sniper on you. He... unless I died, he would have you shot. John I couldn't let you die. –SH
I died to save you, can't you understand that! –SH
Sherlock was shaking he was angry, the weather worsening, if he was paying more attention he would have noticed the thunder slowly starting to make itself known. John mean while took his words as a relief, it was all the conformation he needed. Admittedly he was a little taken aback, he wasn't aware that Sherlock had done all this for him, that he was willing to do this for him. Yet the mention of Moriarty made everything fall into place. It all made sense now. This really, one hundred percent was Sherlock Holmes and he was alive. He didn't care how Sherlock had done it, but he survived.
Moriarty... I should have known. –JW
He tapped the words out much easier than Sherlock. His fingers were slowly losing feeling, the blood circulation cutting out from the extremities to keep the important organs working. He knew he had to get into warmth soon, yet he refused to go in, this had to be done properly. Sherlock could barely feel the phone beneath his fingers as he tapped out he question he needed answering more than anything. He needed his only friend to still believe in him.
Do you believe me? Do you believe it is me john? –SH
Sherlock held his breath as he waited for the reply, hi whole body shaking visibly now. The weather getting the better of him,. He huddled against the wall, gaining the little protection it gave from the wind and rain, the thunder fully audible now. Sherlock looked up, his arms crossed, lightening would arriving soon. He had to hurry this up. Yet John was unaware of the situation Sherlock was in, he had no idea he was baring himself to the weather. He knew it was Sherlock, he always had, he had never stopped believing, he wrote his reply quicker than he expected. He didn't even think twice about the answer, he knew it whatever was to happen. It would always hold true.
Yes, Sherlock. It must be you. It can only be you. It has to be you. –JW
Sherlock released his breath, he had the relief he needed, he was so close to coming home, so very close. He could no longer feel his feet, the leather shoes held no protection against the storm. He was so close to coming home. Having a good cup of tea with John. Pretending to be bored just to gain his attention.
Oh thank God. John, when can I came back? Mrs. Hudson isn't aware I'm alive... –SH
This was true, he couldn't enter the flat if Mrs. Hudson was home, the sight of him alive would be enough to give her a heart attack, he couldn't do that to her. John sat there bewildered, he was too shocked to reply. Sherlock grew impatient, the weather making him more irritable than his usual self. He had to hurry Johns reply along.
John? Can I come home? –SH
The first flash of lightening filled the sky.