Hi, sorry for the delay. I have been a bit caught up with other stuff, like Mass Effect 3 and I may have just gotten the first 6 seasons of Supernatural. Good times. Just another reminder, this story is completely separate from all my other Sherlock stories. There will be stories that can link to it, but it won't be necessary to read those. That said, enjoy.

Closing the lid of his laptop and shoving his phone into his pocket, John limped downstairs, pausing only to leave a note for Mrs Hudson, who was at church. Locking the door behind him, he barely glanced at the beautiful woman in front of him.

'What does Mycroft want?' John said calmly, not expecting a real answer.

'Get in the car John,' she said, not bothering with politeness and John got in, deciding then that he would have to ask Mycroft for some sort of code so he knew it really was Mycroft asking for him and not someone else.

The drive was relatively long and the house he arrived at was rather grand and completely unfamiliar. Of course, John had sort of lost his appreciation of grand houses when Sherlock decided not to bother dressing to go to the palace, so instead he just glanced around and wondered why Mycroft would decide to contact him now and here of all places; though as Sherlock wouldn't likely be following John, the abandoned warehouse was probably unnecessary.

Shuffling out of the car, John followed the woman inside, her hands typing rapidly on her blackberry, not bothering to look up as she led him through the house and to a closed door. As she walked away, he wondered if he should follow her, before realising that he was probably meant to enter the room and opened the door and walked in. Mycroft was standing at the far side, a small amused smile on his face as he looked at John.

Crossing the room John heard the door close, but ignored it and said, 'Mycroft, what…'

'John.'

A cold shiver ran down John's spine as a smooth voice interrupted him. He couldn't move. Everything was…

'John, turn around. It's much easier to talk to you when I'm not looking at your back,' the voice continued and John felt his heart begin to race and he could barely breathe.

'No, no, no, no, no, it can't, it's impossible, no, no…' John muttered and he heard the person coming closer and distantly noticed Mycroft nod and leave the room.

'John stop being pedestrian,' the man said and John swallowed before turning around and faced his miracle.

'Sherlock, you're alive?' John said, his mouth suddenly dry and he stared, eyes soaking in every detail, yet observing nothing.

'Obviously,' Sherlock said and rolled his eyes, so he was completely taken unprepared when John's hand lashed up to punch him in the face.

John shook. Every emotion, every sleepless night, every nightmare, every prayer, every restless day for the last twenty months that had been because he had thought he had lost Sherlock forever and all he got was 'obviously'. It had nothing to do with the fact Sherlock was practically screaming 'punch me'. No, nothing at all… ok, maybe a little… or a lot… The thing is he deserved it. On the other hand, the question about the articles suddenly appearing and the question of who had orchestrated everything, a question which he kept getting the wrong answer to, suddenly made a lot of sense and John didn't care in the slightest.

'Sherlock do you have any fucking idea of what I have been through since… since…' John's voice shook and in that moment he finally found himself hating Sherlock for reducing to this; hated him more than he did for leaving him.

'Since I faked my death?' Sherlock supplied, sounding as though he thought he was being helpful, massaging his face and John's glare intensified. 'Not good?' Sherlock said after a moment, confused.

'No shit Sherlock,' John spat, before repeating his question, his voice stronger this time. 'Do you have any idea what I have been through since you decided to make me think you killed yourself?'

'Yes, I believe I have a fair idea,' Sherlock said calmly and that stopped John in his tracks.

'What?' John said, sitting down, his legs barely able to hold him up by that point and he collapsed into a nearby chair.

'I am completely aware of how you took my apparent decease, I was rather flattered actually,' Sherlock said and John could feel his mind overloading with information, not sure how much longer he would be able to continue processing anything.

'How?' John said, exhaustion from days of reduced amounts of sleep catching up on him.

'All those texts and emails I kept receiving,' Sherlock said as though it should be obvious and it was.

'But I only sent the texts,' John said, resting his eyes for a moment.

'Really John, I could have hacked your email account in my sleep,' Sherlock scoffed and produced a handful of folded and slightly damaged sheets of paper from his coat and passed them to John, who recognised them as being the emails he had written to Sherlock and from what he could tell they had been read often.

'How many times did you read these?' John said incredulously, handing them back to Sherlock whose hand was held out in wait for them. John's anger had receded now and numbness had begun to set in, leaving him with a distant feeling of relief and he wondered idly if this was what it felt like for a cancer sufferer to find out they are in remission after being given a death sentence; to be in pain for so long that for a while relief is more unbearable than the pain.

'Enough,' Sherlock said evasively and actually seemed a little embarrassed. 'There was no internet connection in some of the places I visited and I wasn't sure how long you were going to leave them stored.'

John waved it off and said, 'So I take it you have been staying here for a while?'

'On and off, yes, Mycroft has been unbearable, truly,' Sherlock said and John chuckled and the exhaustion from everything finally sunk in.

'Will you show me to your room then?' John said, though it wasn't really a question.

'Why…?'

'Not a question Sherlock,' John said and Sherlock nodded and swept out of the room his coat flaring dramatically in a way that John knew was at least half the reason Sherlock wore the thing, and John was at his heels, as it should be, John thought with a slight smile playing on his lips.

Opening the door Sherlock led him inside and John closed the door behind them.

'Now what?' Sherlock said and John ignored him and took off his shoes and jacket, making a small pile on what looked like a very expensive chair and walked over to the bed.

'Now I go to sleep and when I wake up, you had better be in this room, I don't care what you do while I'm asleep, but you are not leaving this room,' John said and pulled back the sheets and sat down on the bed.

Sherlock cleared his throat and John looked up at him a little startled. 'I do believe you threatened me with a hug in one of your texts,' Sherlock said and John laughed quietly, surprised that Sherlock was the one to bring it up.

'Can't wait until after I sleep?' John said amused, standing up and Sherlock shook his head. 'Alright then, come here you.' Sherlock barely hesitated to cross the space between them and wrap his arms around John's waist, he face buried in John's shoulder and John reached up to wrap his arms around Sherlock's neck and held him tightly. There would be more hugs later, John was sure. Once he gave his mind a chance to catch up, but for now, this was nice.

About seven hours later found John lying comfortably on the bed, consciousness slowly seeping in, leaving him blanketed by the haze created by sleep. Gradually he realised that he had an arm wrapped around 'something', which then turned in 'someone'. This 'someone' was hard and a bit bony, but completely comfortable, so John let it be. Yawning quietly, John's eyelids fluttered as he prepared to open them and he shifted his head to look up at the person who was kind enough to serve as his pillow. Opening his eyes, he barely managed to prevent himself from jumping as he realised he was lying on top of Sherlock.

Sherlock, as in his friend Sherlock.

Sherlock, as in his friend that he thought was dead for the past twenty months Sherlock.

Forcing himself to calm down, he stared up at his best friends face in wonder, only now recognising the slow rise and fall of the chest beneath his arm and he raised his hand to check for a pulse, needing to know for certain that he was really there. Feeling the thrum against his fingers, John let out a small relieved breath and went to get up, only to find an arm wrapped around his own waist still and he smiled that, for once, was not tainted with guilt.

Sherlock's face was smooth in sleep and John could tell he had been getting as much sleep as John had, though knowing Sherlock; it was likely to be a lot less and a lot more often.

'If you would stop staring at me it would be much appreciated,' Sherlock mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, and his eyes opened slowly, allowing John to see the sparkling blue-green eyes.

'Like you don't enjoy being the centre of attention,' John said grinning and that was it and they were both laughing harder than they had in months and every time their eyes met only sparked another burst. If John noticed the arm around him tightening, he didn't mention it. 'I really did miss you Sherlock,' John said as they were gradually able to catch their breath.

'I noticed your absence as well,' Sherlock said and looked offended when John laughed.

'So you did notice,' John said grinning. 'You know I'm not actually attached to you or anything, occasionally I do go out and do things.'

'It would be better if you didn't,' Sherlock muttered and John ignored him.

'So you actually missed me,' John said pulling away and this time Sherlock let him go, he did pout a bit though, not that he'd admit it.

'I didn't say I missed you, I said I noticed your absence which isn't the same thing,' Sherlock said stubbornly.

'For most people it wouldn't be, but you're not most people and for you it's practically synonymous,' John said, enjoying the ease he found in just talking to Sherlock again. 'So whose idea was it for you to come back on Christmas?'

Sherlock scowled and John knew who's it was before Sherlock even muttered the name.

'Mycroft.'

'Really? I would have guessed Molly,' John said and grinned at Sherlock's moment of surprise. 'Of course she knew. Who else would help you to fake your death?' Turning serious, John stared into Sherlock's eyes, needing the truth from him.

'You were right,' Sherlock said before John could ask the question and scowled.

'You know you could actually let me ask the question before answering it,' John said.

'But that's boring,' Sherlock whined and John rolled his eyes.

'So?'

'Oh, you want details,' Sherlock said, his voice changing from whiny to suffering in an instant.

'Yes, I want answers and not only that, but I deserve answers,' John said, almost daring Sherlock to contradict him. Sherlock didn't, all he did was sit up and stare at John for a long moment.

'Ok then, short answer, Moriarty had three assassins each with a specific target, you, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson. I realised he would have a code to make them stand down, but as you deduced, he shot himself before I could find out,' Sherlock said in a rush and John could feel the familiar tug of awe that he got whenever Sherlock explained something to him. 'You also deduced that my fall was a way of saving you and the others. That was the only way of calling off the assassins. If Moriarty hadn't been so determined for me to fall, I may have actually died, however, I was aware of his preferred method of my death and so was able to plan accordingly. After I was believed to be deceased, I knew that wouldn't be the end of it and so I have been working together with Mycroft to discover and eliminate anyone and everyone involved with Moriarty…'

'Wait, wait, wait,' John interrupted, his glee evident and Sherlock frowned. 'You mean to say that you and Mycroft worked together voluntarily?' John's following laugh blackened Sherlock's face.

'Yes and it was every bit as painful as it sounds,' Sherlock hissed.

'Then why did you do it?' John said, laughter lingering in his voice

'Because I couldn't leave you in danger,' Sherlock said his voice gaining speed again with each word, eyes narrow, killing any joy left on John's face. 'You are all I have John. Don't you see? You look at me and say I'm special and wonderful, but I was alone before you and will be alone again without you.'

John laughed, low and humourless. 'If this deception of yours has shown anything, it's that I am nothing without you.' Realising then that the mood was far too bleak when John finally had is greatest wish come true, he added, 'No seriously, how on Earth do you put up with me?'

'It's been difficult,' Sherlock mused, 'but apparently you're the only that can recognise how amazing I am and that I can actually put up with.'

John's smile returned and a murmured, 'Sherlock' was all the warning the detective got before John's arms were once again wrapped around him.

'Best Christmas present ever,' John said and they both laughed.

'If you think about it though, you're the one who was saying that you belong to me, not the other way around,' Sherlock said, quite content to just sit there and be hugged this time.

'Since when have I ever not belonged to you?' John said smiling, drawing back a bit to see Sherlock's face. 'I mean you have practically had me do whatever it is you wanted since we met.'

'You are rather good at that, though it does take you an awfully long time for you to do some things,' Sherlock said.

'Well that's because sometimes I'm not there when you…'

A sharp rap on the door cut John off and without waiting for a response, the door opened and Mycroft strolled into the room, only raising an eyebrow at how close John and Sherlock were.

'And here I was so enjoying pretending that you don't exist,' Sherlock said as John scrambled to move away.

'Evidently,' Mycroft said and John didn't like the knowing tone in his voice. Maybe it was just his loyalty to Sherlock, but being around Mycroft never quite sat well with John.

'What do you want Mycroft?' Sherlock said impatiently.

'Only to tell you that dinner will be shortly and that mummy is dying to meet John,' Mycroft said and identical looks of horror passed over Sherlock's and John's faces. 'See you downstairs in twenty minutes; you know how mummy hates waiting.' With a positively cheerful smile, Mycroft left and John turned back to Sherlock to see him thinking intensely for a few moments before he leapt of the bed and began gathering his things, shoving John his jacket and shoes on the way past.

'Sherlock, what are you doing?' John said, putting his shoes and jacket back on and Sherlock pulled on his shoes and coat.

'We are leaving and we don't have a second to lose in doing so,' Sherlock said, checking that he had everything and gently opened the waved John over, mouthing 'hurry'.

The cab ride back to Baker Street was mostly quiet, John feeling the full amount of happiness at his friend's return.

'I suppose I should probably ask what you were up to in my absence,' Sherlock said finally breaking the silence. 'You were rather vague as to your activities, apart missing me of course.' Sherlock's tone was smug as he finished and John new he deserved it. He had been a wreck after all.

'There really isn't that much to say,' John admitted. 'I got a job in a clinic, started dating Mary, lived with Harry for about seven months, moved back to Baker Street at the start of the year and that's just about it really.'

'Huh, you were right,' Sherlock said and John gave him a questioning look, 'how do I put up with your level of dull?' he said in his most teasing voice.

'I don't know,' John said mock seriously, 'but we have more important things to worry about at the moment.'

'Like what?' Sherlock said, leaning back in the chair.

'Like how we are going to tell Mrs Hudson you're alive without giving her a heart attack?' John joked, but it fell flat at Sherlock's smirk.

''We?' No, I was going to leave it all up to you,' Sherlock said, laughing as John growled.

'Why me? If you don't remember, you're the one she thinks is dead,' John argued, but he knew he was losing.

'But you're better at this people thing than I am,' Sherlock said and then looked horrified at what he said. They had arrived anyway and John paid the fare and the hopped out.

As it turned out though, they didn't need to bother with telling Mrs Hudson as she burst through the door a second later.

'John where have you…' The yell died on her lips as she caught sight of the man behind him. '…Sherlock?' She whispered and collapsed in a faint, only barely caught by Mary, who stood there confused.

'John, what's going on?' Mary said, before she turned to Sherlock and said, 'Oh, hello again.'

John's brain died. Rebooted and tried to process that piece of information again.

'Wait, you two have met?' John said, looking back and forth between the two.

'John, Mrs Hudson,' Sherlock reminded him and John pushed that thought aside for a moment and helped Sherlock to bring her inside.

When Mrs Hudson was on the couch with her legs propped up, John rounded on the two again. Mary looked horribly guilty and Sherlock looked… Like he wasn't paying attention.

'How and when did you two meet?' John said, trying to stay calm.

Mary seemed to have decided to go first, and she drew in a deep breath to steady herself. 'Well John, you know how I told you my father died when I was younger?' John just nodded. 'Well there was more to it than that and Sherlock agreed to help me find out what was going on.'

'A rather fascinating case on the surface, but child's play once a few details were cleared,' Sherlock said dismissively. 'You would have loved it.'

'I'm sure I would have,' John said, knowing he would have to wait for another time for the details from Mary.

'Anyway, when I asked how I could repay him for helping me, he only asked that I meet you,' Mary said, looking alarmed when John's frown grew.

'Wait, so you're…'

'No! No John. It was nothing like that. Is nothing like that,' Mary said alarmed and looking like she was only barely managing to stay in her seat. 'He only asked me to meet you. He didn't… I didn't think that anything would come of it and then I met you and you were so wonderful…'

'Oh please,' Sherlock mumbled.

'…I didn't expect that and I really hope that you believe me, because I mean it,' Mary said and John felt his face soften.

'Ok then, well in case you didn't know this is the flatmate I was telling you about,' John said and was surprised to see Mary's eyes widen in shock. 'Wait, you didn't know he was Sherlock?'

'Alias John; a name like mine tends to stick out,' Sherlock said absently, walking over to where his violin still rested on the chair where he had left it many months earlier.

'But you said he died,' Mary said confused.

'I thought so too, until this morning,' John said, a small smile creeping onto his face unbidden as the first few notes were plucked. 'As it turned out that he only faked it.'

'How do you fake jumping off a building?' Mary said incredulously.

'Wouldn't you like to know,' Sherlock said mysteriously and drew his bow across the strings and for a few moments, John and Mary simply listened to Sherlock play.

'Sherlock…?' Mrs Hudson called out, sounding quite terrified and the music cut off abruptly, the violin swiftly placed on a chair and Sherlock knelt at her side. To John's surprise, Sherlock gently took a hand in both of his.

'But you… but you died…' Mrs Hudson stammered, sitting up and on the verge of tears.

'A necessary deception in order for John and yourself to be safe,' Sherlock said quietly, letting go of Mrs Hudson just in time for her to fling herself at him, bawling her eyes out.

'Oh Sherlock… Sherlock… My boys back together again… Oh, this is the best present you have ever given me…' Mrs Hudson said and Sherlock turned his head to meet John's eyes and mouthed, 'help'. John just laughed and shook his head and was rewarded with a mouthed, 'sadist'. Shaking his head again John pointed to himself and mouthed 'masochist' and then back at Sherlock and mouthed 'sadist'.

When it became clear that Mrs Hudson wouldn't be moving any time soon, John finally walked over and placed his hand on her shoulder.

'Mrs Hudson? How about you go and have a lie down for a bit, ok?' John said gently and she nodded with a final sniffle and let Sherlock go, who immediately raced back to the safety of his chair.

When she was gone, Mary seemed to perk up again and said, 'You are very lucky to have so many people who care about you Sherlock.'

'Yes, I am,' Sherlock said and John was surprised to find Sherlock watching him. 'Very lucky indeed.'

'So, John said that you can tell everything about a person just by looking at them,' Mary said and John didn't like the way she phrased it; she wouldn't actually…

'Yes, though it's possible for me to do that with less,' Sherlock said, not bothering to hide the size of his ego.

'Would you be able to read me?' Mary said, her curiosity outweighing her good sense in John's opinion.

'I could, however, I believe John is quite annoyed at me as it is and I would rather not test him at the moment,' Sherlock said and John let out a sigh of relief.

'He also told me that you are a bit of a show off and will do so at any opportunity,' Mary persisted and Sherlock gave John a look and he caved.

'Fine, do whatever you want, I'm not going to listen' John said and walked towards the kitchen, pausing at the door and looking back at Mary. 'New Years is at your place this year isn't it?'

'Yes, of course it is,' Mary said confused. 'We planned for it a month ago.'

'Just checking. I guess I will see you then,' John said and looked at Sherlock. 'Don't be too hard on her; she doesn't know what she's in for.' With that he walked into the kitchen and began making a cup of coffee.

The kettle had just boiled and John was pouring the hot water into his and Sherlock's mugs when he heard the slap and the door slam a few seconds after. Placing the kettle back, he added sugar and stirred it into both cups.

'You don't have sugar in your coffee,' Sherlock said and John swallowed.

'No, I didn't,' John said quietly, passing a mug to Sherlock and took a sip of his own.

'Oh,' Sherlock said and John knew that he had worked it out.

'So…' John said slowly, not really sure what he was going to say, only that something needed to be said. A glance at the fridge gave him an idea though, 'I just realised that neither of us have eaten dinner yet, and knowing you, you probably haven't eaten today either, so is Chinese good?'

'It's fine,' Sherlock and John was surprised to hear the curiosity in his voice.

'Ok then, I will be back soon,' John said and grabbed his wallet and keys. 'If Mrs Hudson comes out while I'm away, tell her that her dinner is in the fridge and she just has to heat it up.'

'You learnt how to cook?' Sherlock said, the shock making John laugh.

'Rather a necessity when you live with Harry,' John said, and then added, 'be back soon.'

Sitting on the couch with Sherlock, eating Chinese as they watched some ridiculous show and listening to him yell at it every minute or so and then later watching as Sherlock exploded into animation again explaining to John all the cases he had been working on in his absence forced John to remember just how Sherlock had so completely drawn John into his life and he was happier than he could ever recall being.

'So you're saying they just gave them to you?' John said, eyes almost watering from laughter. 'They didn't ask for ID or anything?'

'What can I say, I am very convincing,' Sherlock said and for a moment John was almost sure he had a fond expression on his face.

'You must be; Jesus Sherlock,' John said and wiped his eyes.

'Yes, people do seem to get us confused,' Sherlock said dryly and John just shook his head in exasperation.

'You know, I should have had my laptop, or at least something to take notes down, in so I could post some of these in my blog eventually,' John said and Sherlock cleared his throat, looking a little self conscious… Or it might have been the lighting, John didn't bother to check.

'I may have taken the liberty of writing down a few of my cases for you, in your absence,' Sherlock said and John grinned, already looking forward to reading them, if only to potentially get back at Sherlock for all the cracks he made at his own writing.

'Wait, in my absence? You're the one who left Sherlock,' John said laughing.

'Yes, you were absent and therefore it was in yourabsence not mine,' Sherlock said, only acknowledging the first half, though he had a small smile. John's eyes drifted for a moment, he started when he saw the clock.

'Is it three AM already? We really should be going to bed, after all, we have to bring you back from the dead tomorrow and I'm trying to work out how we should tell everyone,' John said, only realising then how tired he was, even if he had slept far too much earlier. Rubbing his eyes, he stood up and stretched. 'Come on Sherlock.'

Walking towards the bathroom to clean his teeth, something felt off, like it had when he went to get dinner earlier and it continued to bug him until Sherlock came over and grabbed his tooth brush too, looking so normal as he squeezed tooth paste onto the brush and began to clean his teeth that it was almost laughable. Waiting till Sherlock had finished, John said goodnight and headed off to his room.

Lying in bed, John suddenly felt wide awake, ears straining for any sound and so he nearly jumped when he heard the door open and looked up to see Sherlock standing there and without pause, Sherlock crossed the room and climbed into bed beside John.

'Sherlock, this is my…'

'Go to sleep John,' Sherlock mumbled and surprisingly, for John at least, that's exactly what he did.

As he got so much sleep earlier, John didn't sleep as long as he usually would and got up only a little bit later than he normally would have. Rolling over, John was once again met with the sight of Sherlock's sleeping face and Sherlock's hand, which had reached out to rest on John's side was now lightly pressed against his stomach. Relief that it really hadn't been a dream nearly overwhelmed him for a moment and John fought the urge to cover the hand with one of his own. Slipping out of the bed, John headed to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and wash his face.

It was half way through his cup that he realised why Sherlock had stayed with him, though he really should have known earlier. In one of his emails to Sherlock, he had mentioned the reoccurrence of the nightmare he had of Sherlock falling and him being helpless to stop it. Sherlock must have then guessed that John may have the nightmare again and need the reassurance of his presence. Smiling to himself, he was once again surprised when he saw his laptop open and plugged in and an unfamiliar screensaver playing. It was a simple one, just a black screen with three words bouncing around the screen, changing colour with each bounce.

Good Morning John

Curious, John walked over to the laptop and moved the mouse to make the screen saver disappear.

For some reason every time I imagine Sherlock revealing he is alive to John I pictured him getting punched in the face and I think that may be why I wrote this, since no one else seemed to have the same idea. I also couldn't resist the 'no shit Sherlock' line. Anyway for anyone who is reading this, I hope you are enjoying it so far. The third and final chapter will be up soon.