Warnings: Johnlock slash (Rating could go up), Unbeta'd, I'm not British, Bullying Mentions of drug abuse, AU
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.
More notes at the end of Chapter.
When Mycroft had finally came to collect Sherlock, he had been beaten, bloody, and a little worse for wear, but as they boarded a plane back to their beloved city, Sherlock knew it was all worth it. He knew John was safe and protected from the wicked spiders he had been fighting this whole time.
As Sherlock lay getting his haircut and wounds tended to, Mycroft told Sherlock, two years and three days into his hiatus away from John, about his soul mate. At first, 'the pompous git', didn't explain any of the details and had led Sherlock to believe that it was someone other than John. Of course the consulting detective refused any other mate other than his beloved blogger. He has finally found, in his opinion, his soul mate, and doesn't need a red thread to confirm it.
Mycroft, (again) the pompous git, only smirks and then proceeds tells Sherlock that his mate is John. If he didn't have control over his facial features, he would have grimaced and blushed. The detective then lashes out in his embarrassment, due to showing his heart to his insufferable older brother. The British government then tells Sherlock that John has moved out of Baker Street and has 'moved on' with his life. That stops Sherlock for a moment, but no matter, when John sees Sherlock he'll move back in and everything will be like it was before.
When he finally leaves one of Mycroft's many houses, the consulting detective springs into action. He begins packing his meager belongings 'This is it! Finally!' Sherlock had been fighting so hard these last two years to come home. He hadn't meant to be gone for so long, but Moriarty's web had stretched all across the globe. He would have given up so long ago if he hadn't had someone to come home to. 'John...' He smiles when he thinks of his beloved blogger. 'Finally..' He can go home to his soul mate.
John had decided to move out of Baker Street because even though Mycroft was paying for his living arrangements and he no longer had to worry about money, everywhere he looked, Sherlock's possessions and his memory still lived in the now dismal flat. So, we now find John back in a small, tidy (boring) flat that is devoid of bullet holes and a watchful yellow smiling face painted upon the wall. He 'lives' his life. He wakes up every day, limping around the confined space, just going through the motions.
But on one sunny day in January, Mrs. Hudson calls him and asks him to remove some of Sherlock's old book. So, with a heavy footsteps and heart, John travels once again to 221B Baker Street. When the cab drops him off at the front of the building, he reaches one shaky hand forward, turns the doorknob, opens the door, and continues up the stairs to the familiar flat. Instead of a cheery Mrs. Hudson, he sees a man that invade his dreams nightly and was said to be dead. "Hello John."
The man before him, who has always appeared so sure and confident now stands unsure, fiddling with his hands, waiting for the blogger to say something. When the silence weighs too heavily on the consulting detective's shoulders, he begins to ramble useless nonsense. When John steps forward, on slight uneven steps, Sherlock's maundering speech comes to an abrupt end.
When John is a few feet away from the uncomfortable detective, he stops and stares up at him with widened eyes. "John, I-." Unfortunately at that moment, John decides to move and proceeds to do so by punching him in the face. Both individuals land on the floor with a loud thud, John on top of Sherlock. "WHO THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" Sherlock scrambles back from where he had fallen to gape at the angry army doctor. "John, it's me! Sherlock." He laughs bitterly and his voice becomes biting and cold when he answers, "Sherlock is dead. I watched him fall. You are not him." At that, John tackles the offending man, raises his hand, and brings it down to to strike him again…yet, this time he stops. Before his fist can connect with the angular features before him, he remembers another time when this same face lay bloodied and lifeless on the stony streets of London.
John's eyes widen and fill with tears as he scrambles backward and away from Sherlock. A half-choked off sob escapes involuntarily from trembling thin lips and arms come up to hide his face from the shocked, slightly bruised face in front of him. When the sobs subside momentarily, John looks up with red-rimmed eyes and whispers, "Why? I don't care how. I just want to know why."
"I promise, if there was another way in order to keep you safe, I would have taken it! Moriarty had snipers placed on all of my friends and if I didn't jump, he would send out the word and all of you would have died. Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade…..you… Either I die, or you die."
John's face has taken on that blank, emotionless mask he has perfected these last two years. "Why didn't you come back when the snipers had been taken care of?"
"There was always someone else! Moriarty's web had spread all across the globe. I have fought to make my way back home. I've just finished. If I could have gotten home sooner I would have taken it, but, while there was another member still alive, you and everyone else remained at risk. I couldn't come back until it was all taken care of."
John wipes his eyes on his jumper, stands up, and watches as Sherlock clambers his way up. When they stand face to face, John pulls him in for a hug. The sleuth melts into the familiar embrace only briefly until the blogger is gone and is replaced with a quiet click of the front door. The hug, although brief, had told Sherlock enough to know that he was not completely forgiven. There were still many things that needed to be settled between the two.
Communication between the two had become stilted and awkward because John no longer knew what to say and Sherlock didn't know how to fix the barrier between them. John still lives in a cramped flat on the other side of London but will join Sherlock for the occasional case. This particular case, three months after Sherlock's return, was at least a seven and the excited detective wanted his loyal blogger by his side. Unfortunately, said loyal blogger was currently at work.
Sent To: John Watson, 2:06 p.m.
I need you. -SH
Message Received from Sherlock Holmes, 2:08 p.m.:
Come at once if convenient or not.-SH
Message Received from Sherlock Holmes, 2:11 p.m.:
It's a 7 John. 7!
John hears his phone vibrating in his pocket, excuses himself from the other doctors and checks his messages. He rolls his eyes and quickly typed out his reply.
Message Received from John Watson, 2:20 p.m.:
I'm at work, I'll see you at five. -JW
John pockets his phone and goes to take his next patient.
Sherlock pockets his phone 'It's not as fun when John isn't here.' The irritable sleuth took his frustrations out on the Yarders by the usual comments of 'Idiots' or 'What is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so vacant.' When it was finally time to make the arrests Sherlock and Lestrade chased the villain throughout the streets of London. Sherlock, 'the idiot', tackled the masked man to the ground. But unbeknownst to the armature detective, the man had knife and had managed to stab his lower abdomen. Greg, before the man could escape, had handcuffed him and ziptied his feet together. He then rushes to Sherlock's side, takes the Sherlock's blue scarf to stunt the bleeding, and then calls for an ambulance and other Yarders
The ambulance arrives eight minutes after Lestrade finishes giving his orders to Sergeant Donovan. When and only when the suspect gets placed into the police car, Sherlock then allows himself to be strapped into a gurney and placed into the medical vehicle.
At 3:54, John takes out his phone again to check the time and sees 3 missed messages.
Message Received from Sherlock Holmes, 3:23 p.m.:
John! -SH
Message Received from Sherlock Holmes, 3:25 p.m.:
I'm dying. Bring biscuits.
John of course snorts out a laugh at the second one but continues on with the third and final message
Message Received from Greg Lestrade, 3:30 p.m.:
John, Sherlock's been stabbed in his stomach. The ambulance is taking him to the hospital now.
When he sees the last message his blood turns to ice and freezes only momentarily before he makes an excuse to Sarah and quickly leaves the establishment. He then texts Greg to find out where they are. In the cab ride over to the hospital, John can feel this odd tingling sensation in his left hand. Without looking down, he knows what he will find there: an unmistakable crimson, fiery red thread connecting him to the man not even two miles away.
Notes: I'm sorry for the Angst guys! Next chapter WILL be fluffy. I promise! Another thing... The threads are back! (They are staying too! :D) I'm not sure if I have mentioned it to you all, but I have to move the update days to Wednesday and Saturday. My life is going crazy and I've got too much on my plate at the moment. I hope, when all this junk is over, that I will be able to update sooner. Until then, please bare with me! I'm working on the story I swear! :D (p.s. I found that text about dying and biscuits on tumblr. I didn't come up with it unfortunately )
randomplotbunny: I know! Poor John! Those geniuses need to learn how to take care of other people! :/ We'll just have to give John lots of hugs
Kestrel98: Mycroft knows EVERYTHING! ;) I'm glad you like it! Thanks for such wonderful words! :D Here you are dear! :D The next chapter (just a little late :D)
TheMysteriousGeek2345:Mycroft is very cleaver :D. He is omniscient and we all know he flaunts it :). Here you are! Chapter
Emlock: *hands tissue* I'm sorry I made you cry! I'm glad you like it though! :D John's going to be upset and sad for a while but, Sherlock will make it all better. :)
Guest Reviewer:Here you are! A new chapter (just... later than normal *sweatdrop*) I'm glad you like it! :D It's always lovely to hear such wonderful things! :D Yes, Poor John :(, but, Sherlock will make him all better (It'll just take a little while)!