The Reunion

by amiluna

A year since the fall, and John returns to 221B Baker st. He gets a surprise visit from someone believed to be dead. Domestic johnlock. Enjoy and please review! (:

3. Chapter 3: Sherlock

It had been a year. A year since the fall. A year since he had seen John. Sherlock couldn't wait any longer. He had to find John and tell him the whole truth.

That night, the detective had arrived in London. He spent the night at a small hotel, and then went off to see his dear friend again. Sherlock had seen John standing outside,across the street from where Sherlock was standing. John had looked at him. He had looked at Sherlock but not seen him. It hurt Sherlock. To be looked at but not seen. He hated it. He wanted to run across the street to John and tell him that he was alive and everything was okay. But he had to wait. He waited patiently for what seemed like hours. Long, painful hours. At around 12:15, Sherlock saw a cab pull up in front of the corner of Baker street. He stood up and waited. He saw the door of the cab open. A man with dark black hair stepped out. Sherlock stopped. It wasn't John. Sherlock took a sharp breath, and walked out of the deserted store anyway. He glided across the street to his flat, making sure to not be seen.

The detective then reached into his coat pocket and fished out a small key. He inserted it into the keyhole and pushed open the door. He smiled and looked around. It was so good to be back. He made his way up the staircase and stopped in front of the door. He pushed it open slowly. The hinges creaked a little bit. Sherlock stood in the doorway, staring and, of course, deducing. He walked into the bedroom and found John's suitcase. The bed was messy and there were some clothes sprawled on the floor. Sherlock could tell that he had been here for 2 days, and mostly slept through the days. He picked up the bed sheet from off the floor. The scientist strode back into the living room and suddenly remembered something. He began frantically searching the room, knocking over books and throwing papers and pillows.
"Where could John have put it?" he asked aloud. "Where could- OH." His eyes grew large and he ran back into the bedroom. He lifted John's suitcase onto the bed and began to look through it, tossing clothes everywhere.
"Here!" he announced as he spun around, holding his old violin in his hands. "Oh I knew John would never throw you out!" he laughed and walked back into the living room. His smile faded as soon as he saw the blond man standing in the room, gaping and unable to speak or move.
"John.."