Note: Very short, I´m afraid. Next chapter may be longer.
Chapter Two
Breathing hard, John stood outside 221B Baker Street. He tried to calm himself down, think this through and hear Sherlock out. But he couldn´t. The anger was still too immense, disappointment overwhelming the joy of having Sherlock, his best friend, back.
Stop being dead.
The words John has spoken nearly three years ago, echoed through him. Of course he wanted Sherlock back, wanted him to be still alive and yet John regretted answering the text the detective had sent him before they met.
I´m still alive, meet me at Baker Street if you still care. SH
At first the doctor believed this to be an ill-fated joke. But something inside him wanted it to be true. And it was. But seeing Sherlock sitting so calm in one of their old chairs in front of the fireplace, barely looking up when John entered the room, made him furious. The former soldier launched himself at Sherlock, dragging the chair with him. They landed on the floor and John dealt two quick blows to Sherlock´s face, who didn´t resist.
Satisfied for the moment the doctor stood up and just stood there, his breathing irregular. After Sherlock sat down again he started to explain, John still could not fully understand how Sherlock had survived this. And he still hadn´t explained why he faked his own death.
Because I didn´t let him.
John shoved that aside.
Doesn´t matter. It´s over, you have moved on. He´ll always lie to you and let you down. This has to end.
With one last look at the front-door of the house he thought of as home, John turned around and hailed a cab.