Next chapter. Sorry for the delay here guys, I am struggling to find time to write at the moment, but I have no shortage of ideas! Its a bad combo! I'm thinking I might stretch this one out a bit further, to include an encounter with the final assassin... Not sure though. Let me know what you think.

Also reviews make me very happy and spur me on even better than caffeine.

As ever I don't own any rights to Sherlock or the original ideas of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Lestrade steered Sherlock to the side of the road, presumably to give him the talking to I usually would've given him. I leaned against the car and stared into the middle distance.

Sherlock was alive. I had doubted his death despite seeing it with my own eyes. I was so sure, for a while, and then grief and loss took over and I realised that it was much more likely that I just wished his death to be false. I had made myself believe the painful truth that my best friend was gone and not coming back, this 'truth' had driven me to the edge, literally. Now what occurred to me was that Sherlock's death was a lie.

I heard my own voice in my mind saying, 'No-one will ever convince me that you told me a lie.' I looked up and jumped slightly as I found myself staring into Sherlock's eyes.

"John?" He looked concerned, my eyes were probably glazed over. He checked back over his shoulder and Lestrade nodded at him. "I owe you an apology." I blinked at him, he looked unsure as how to continue.

"You lied to me, Sherlock." There was no tone in my voice, no expression, just the words, so its not altogether surprising that he mistook my meaning.

"I'm sorry John but in order to keep you safe I needed you to parrot Moriarty's story. I had to make you believe that I was a fraud." He seemed relieved as if a burden had been taken from him.

I closed my eyes and shook my head, "No." I took a deep steadying breath, "Your death was a lie." I turned my back on him and heard an increasing buzzing in my ears. Lestrade approached but I only opened my eyes when he laid a hand on my shoulder. I felt drained, exhausted and when Lestrade asked, "Want a ride back into the city?" all I could do is nod.

Sherlock reached his hand out towards me and even through my numb shock, I pulled away and told him forcefully, "Don't touch me!"

He took a step backwards looking stunned and after taking a moment to recover, in a low calm voice he said, "I know you hate me right now John, but please take care of yourself."

I meant to tell him that I didn't hate him but all I could manage in response was another nod.

Seemingly satisfied with this he turned to Lestrade, "Greg, please take care of him. It's not safe for me to return yet but I want... I need...," As I listened to him speak, showing such hesitation again I wondered to myself if our time apart had affected him as badly as it had affected me, "Greg, I did what I had to in order to keep you all safe, so until it is safe for me to return please ensure my efforts were not for naught."

Now it was Lestrade who was lost for words, he muttered under his breath and I, being closer than Sherlock, caught the words 'has a heart after all'. When I looked up the two of them were searching each other's faces with a look of determination. Lestrade pulled his gaze away first, looking down to meet my eyes, "Come on John." He opened the passenger side door and steered me inside, just before the door closed I heard him state plainly, "I'll look after him, but you look after you. Stay clean." Sherlock nodded and raised his hand to wave to me, I turned my face away, simply unable to process any more. In fact we were almost back at Baker Street when Lestrade's voice brought me back to my senses, "So what are we going to do with you, eh?"

I turned slowly, blinking at him, trying to figure out what he was going to say next. I was fully aware what his training would be telling him to do as in this case my training was the same. Any persons at imminent risk of harming themselves are to be put under 24 hour supervision, indefinitely until it is shown to be no longer necessary. Aside from all the other implications this would have on my life, the one that occurred most pressingly to me was the loss, at least temporarily, of my medical license. Strangely as lost and as desperate as I felt this thought worried me.

"John?" I'd apparently been silent awhile, I met his eyes again and waited for the blow to fall. "Listen," Lestrade sighed, looking more worn and tired than he had at any point before Sherlock's 'death'. "I don't want to lock you up or anything like that, but if I don't and then you try that again... Well I'd never forgive myself." He paused before adding in a slightly more cheerful tone, "Plus I think Sherlock would kill me!"

I nodded slowly before stating, "I can't promise not to feel that way again, the way I've been feeling the way I still feel. I mean, things have changed but..." I left my sentence hanging hoping he would understand.

He nodded too, "Yeah things have changed, it can take a while to sort it all out in your head though, eh? I know I'm going to need some time to take it all in myself." He stopped, rubbed his hand across his face as he thought how best to speak his mind. "Well, no you can't promise how you're going to feel," He fixed me with a stern look, "But... You can promise to call me if you do feel like that again, or call Molly or Sally, anyone really... I mean, is talking to your sister an option?"

I sat and considered this, I knew what answer he wanted to hear but I wasn't sure if I could promise him. I also knew, perhaps because we had shared so much together or because he had seen me in such a vulnerable state, that I couldn't lie to him. "I dunno, Greg..."

He held up both hands and continued, "Honestly John,day or night, any time, you can call me. And I don't know for certain but I'm pretty sure Molly would make the same offer to you."

I looked down at my lap, feeling overwhelmed. I swallowed and tried to find the right words. Eventually I settled for "Thanks, I will."