There is a loud rustle behind John and Sherlock charges out of the trees, shouting in panic. "JOHN! NO! STOP! JOHN, I'M ALIVE! JOHN DON'T!" John stops. He lowers his gun, and looks behind him. He sees his best friend, Sherlock Holmes. Standing behind him. Not six feet under the ground he kneels upon. John's face contorts into a war of emotions and he freezes on the spot.
Memories flood into his mind. Sherlock when they first met. Deducing his family just by glancing at him. Them, solving their first case together. {A Study in Pink} John had blogged. All the following cases. The laughs they had shared. How well they had gotten along. John was the only person who saw Sherlock for who he was, and not a psychopath, or a freak. Sherlock was brilliant. Amazing. And now he had returned. From the dead.
"Sherlock? H... How? How did you? What?" John finally manages to splutter out. Sherlock runs towards him and rips the gun out of his hands; just like how John had done to Sherlock so many years ago when Sherlock had been 'bored' and had shot the wall in 221B. Sherlock stares at him. John knows this look too well; Sherlock is deducing.
Sherlock starts his deductions, "John, you haven't been sleeping well, you have very dark eye bags and your eyes are red, which means-" John stalks over to Sherlock, half in rage. "SHERLOCK! YOU PRETEND TO DIE, THEN YOU COME BACK AFTER THREE YEARS AND THE FIRST THING YOU DO DEDUCE ME. WELL IF YOU WANT TO DEDUCE ANYTHING..." John leans close to the man he had always loved so much. He looks him deep in his grey-blue eyes. "Deduce this." And he kisses him.