Sorry for those who had like 3 update alerts for the last chapter, I tried to edit it after I had updated but fanfiction was messing up, so sorry if that annoyed you.

Anyway, here is Confessions Part 2!

Confessions Part 2

Sherlock didn't looked pleased about my response of denying rest and instead demanding answers, but he carried on anyway.

"It wasn't just Molly who helped my fake my death, I had the whole of homeless network working with me as well. Turns out they don't like the idea of me dying, so offered their services. I got them to place an old truck just where I planned to jump, after deciding right next to a hospital would be the best place to fake a suicide just in case anything went wrong. I didn't die because I didn't land on the concrete, instead the blow was softened by bags filled with clothes that I landed on in the truck, and where Molly was also hiding, trying to keep out of sight. As soon as I landed she tipped out the dead fake version of me onto the concrete and the truck drove off."

"I still don't understand how I didn't see any of that." I admitted, my head was still spinning.

Sherlock gave a small, knowledgeable smile. "Because you were standing just in the right position so the truck blocked your view, and I had the homeless network make sure you were distracted so you didn't suspect anything was wrong." He suddenly looked a little guilty. "I told them it was a desperate situation so they should try anything, but I didn't really mean for you to be run over by a bike, that may have been a bit much..."

So everything that I had seen and believed was wrong. Like everything that Sherlock does it was all planned out and managed to deceive those with a 'simple mind', even being hit by the bike. I had spent all this time thinking my best friend was dead, but really he was alive and well and hiding somewhere. I glowered at him, feeling more anger building up in my exhausted veins. If I wasn't so tired I might have already knocked his teeth out.

"You could have come back," I mumbled, "why did you not tell me you were still alive? Did you not think about what I was going through believing that you were dead?"

I've never seen Sherlock look so guilty until today. The emotion that flickered over his face was close to sadness.

"I couldn't John," he murmured, "it was for your own good, I couldn't come back."

That was no excuse. He could have a least given me a hint if he couldn't come back to Baker Street, just a small sign that he was OK would have just made my life seem a little bit easier for the past twelve weeks. But instead he had left me in the pitch darkness that I had fallen into. I don't think I could ever forgive Sherlock Holmes for that, but I still had questions to ask.

"So where have you been all this time?" I demanded, "while you were pretending no longer to exist, what have you been doing?"

"I've been staying with Molly." Sherlock admitted. "She let me live in her house, and I've been watching you ever since. Don't let yourself think that I just forgot about you for the past twelve weeks. I didn't follow you around all the time, but I wanted to keep an eye on you to make sure you were all right."

So that was why I was seeing a tall, dark figure every now and then, I knew it was him, but of course at the time that seemed impossible. It was some relief that I wasn't going insane, if Sherlock really was standing in front of me, anyway.

"You even went to your own funeral?"

Sherlock nodded, "yes, that was a little strange. I was surprised that was one of the few times I managed to see you, you never seemed to leave Baker Street. After a while I was beginning to get worried so I asked Molly to check up on you. I was devastated when she told me you were in a really bad way so I started to keep a closer eye on you, I didn't realise how bad things had taken a turn for you. And then I saw you leaving Baker Street in the middle of the night and followed you to the park..."

He stopped then, because we both knew what was going to happen next. Despite my memory still being hazy about last night (if it was last night, I had no idea how long it has been since I jumped off the bridge) there was no doubt that it wasn't a dream anymore. It had actually happened, and I still remembered a cry of my name that I thought was the wind, an arm grabbing me under the water and Sherlock's terrified voice.

"And you followed me into the river?" I prompted.

Sherlock seemed surprised at this question. "Of course I did, I couldn't let you drown."

I could picture it now, Sherlock must have been standing in the darkness not far from the bridge, watching, wondering what I was doing, then he saw me jump. I knew what he must have been thinking, because I had been in that position before, complete disbelief and horror at the sight of his friend falling. As soon as I fell into the water he must have run forward, thrown off his coat (I remember feeling something dry attempted to be draped over my shoulders) and dived into the water after me. He could have caught hypothermia swimming into the freezing water, Sherlock would have known that, but still he did it. I suppose that shows how many times I may argue against it, he did care about me.

I must have fallen unconscious pretty quickly after I had been pulled from the river, Sherlock must have taken me all the way back to Baker Street through the dark, alone. There was just one more thing I considered as I looked down at what I was wearing.

"Sherlock, how did I get into these clothes?"

"Oh don't look so embarrassed John!" Sherlock said with a wave of his hand. "You couldn't stay in those wet clothes. It was fine, Mrs Hudson helped."

"Mrs Hudson?" I repeated, but then I paused, forgetting my embarrassment. "How has she reacted to all of this?"

Sherlock frowned for a moment. "Well she slapped me, and then there was a lot of tears and hugging. It was a little strange."

No I could understand exactly why she did that.

"So...you're not a fraud?" I asked slowly, "and you can't lie to me now Sherlock. You have to tell me the truth now you've come back, you faked your own death, what else is fake about you?" The number of kitchen utensils I was tempted to throw at his head now depended on his answer.

But Sherlock replied with the response I knew he would. "I'm not a fraud John. Moriarty was real and wanted to make me seem like a cheat. I had to tell you I wasn't who I really was to stop you thinking I was still alive and coming after me. I needed to make everyone believe I was a liar..."

We both suddenly fell into a long silence. Sherlock still stood in front of me on the other end of the kitchen table, with wide, worried eyes, I thought I'd never see him look so...frightened. But I didn't feel any sympathy towards him, I just sat there and glared at him. He had been hiding away and lying to me all this time, he made me doubt who he really was and if he was still here I might not have been driven to the edge. Why should he deserve my sympathy?

"John I can understand if you don't want me to stay here," Sherlock began. No matter what happens it's still unnerving when it seems like he can read your mind. "If you want me to go after all I put you through..."

"Sorry no, but you can't stay here." I told him bluntly. I couldn't have a dead man walking around in my house. This was all too much to bear. I didn't want to throw Sherlock Holmes out of my life forever when I had spent weeks thinking he was still going to come through the door, but now he was here I felt like I was drowning in confusion. You have to walk before you run, and right now I couldn't even get standing on two feet. Perhaps when I decided to forgive him he could come back, but that wasn't going to be for a long time, so he couldn't stay here. "I don't think I can even look at you right now, let alone have you living here." I admitted aloud.

But Sherlock's eyes turned to stone. "Sorry John, but I'm not leaving you, not in the state you're in. I'm going to be stay here until I fix what I've broken, and then you can decide whether to chuck me out of Baker Street or not. In the meantime, I'm going to make you some breakfast."

Well those were my thoughts of what might have happened to Sherlock at the end of Reichenbach, obviously I have no idea how he actually survived etc, I'm really looking forward to having it all revealed at the beginning of the next series! What do you think happened? :) Apparently it's going to be something really obvious so we'll all be kicking ourselves! Lol

Please review! :D