A/N: Thank you to all those people who've favorite/followed/reviewed this story
I go to 221 B. I thought I would black out or plunge into a hole of depression again. But surprisingly, I felt nothing. I realized 221 B was just another flat if there was no Sherlock in it. Mrs. Hudson is surprised to see me, but doesn't say anything.
From the way she is banging the plates and the cups, it was obvious that she was very angry at me. And, I don't blame her.
Oh no, you don't take it do you?
No.
You forget a little thing like that.
Yes.
I knew what Mrs. Hudson was referring to.
You forget lots of little things, it seems
Uh-huh
I play dumb. I had no intention of walking down the memory lane.
Look
I decide that Mrs. Hudson deserved an apology. She had been a rock and I never did thank her for the things she did for me. However, she cuts me off.
I'm not your mother. I've no right to expect it. But, one phone call John! Just one phone call would have done
I know
I felt guilty. Very guilty.
After all we've went through
I am sorry.
I know how difficult it was for you, after…after
I let it slide, . I let it all slide.
The words reverberate around my head. It was the first time I acknowledged verbally that I was permanently moving on from Sherlock. For the first time, I realize the weight of the ring in my pocket.
SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH
I decided that moving on from Sherlock meant taking that walk down memory lane. I summon up my courage to go into our flat.
I stop at the doorway, fighting the rush of memories that were trying to overpower me. It was too much.
So, why now? What changed your mind?
Her words help me realize what I had come here for. That I needed to move on from Sherlock. Mary deserved that.
Well, I've got some news.
I'm moving on.
Moving on from Sherlock. The most incredible man I knew.
You're emigrating
The thought that I met someone does not even cross Mrs. Hudson.
Er, no. I've…met someone
Oh, how lovely!
She seemed genuinely pleased that I met someone.
So soon, after Sherlock?
Hmm, well, yes.
Mrs. Hudson is confused, though she is trying her best not to show it.
What's his name?
It's a woman.
I wasn't gay. Sherlock was just special, that's all. Even Irene fell for Sherlock, even though she was a lesbian.
A woman?
Yes, of course it's a woman.
You really have moved on, haven't you?
It was her way of subtly reminding me of my hallucination. And, it was my time to reply.
Mrs. Hudson, how many times? Sherlock wasn't my boyfriend!
The sadness of the truth hits me.
Live and let live, that's my motto
I'm not gay!
SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHShSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH
I arrive at Marylebone Road an hour before I was supposed to meet Mary. I was that nervous. All my nerves were tingling with anticipation. Sadly, it was not due to the fact that I was proposing. No matter how hard I try to convince myself, I knew the state of my anticipation was due to the end of two years. End of waiting. It was Sherlock's time to keep up his promise. Ninety nine percent of me was telling me (in a voice very much like Sherlock's) that I was stupid. But, there was that one percent that was feeling justified in keeping my end of the promise, no matter how ludicrous. I sat, contemplating as to how to propose. Clever as she was, she must have already figured out that I was going to propose to her.
SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS
John Hamish Watson. It was all for him. All the things I had done the past two years. They were to ensure he was safe. I was an idiot to let my emotions to take over me at the wrong moment. Months of planning could have been ruined. Proposing to John was one of the best moments of my life, but it was the wrong time. I and Mycroft spent months to plan the perfect fake suicide. The entire thing was staged so that John would believe that I was dead. And, I, the idiot I was, went back to John the same night. Well, I had to. His entry on Reichenbach Fall made me forget everything.
It broke my heart to see John on the hospital bed. He really cared about me. I understood then how hard it had been for John to see my "dead" body. I had to show him that I wasn't dead. That impulse had completely ruined John. I only hope that he would forgive me for playing with his mind.
Mycroft knew something. There were always pointers. Three, in case of Mycroft. Thirteen in case of an ordinary person. Thirty for John. I hated not knowing. Well, I would think about it later. Right now, I had bigger things at hand.
I go to Marylebone Road twenty minutes before whatever John was going to do there. I make my way into the restaurant. My mind was telling me that John made a reservation knowing that I would be back.
The man takes my coat. Baby clothes catalogue visible in the inner coat, both for a girl and a boy. Expectant father. His phone rings, special alert noise.
Your wife just texted you, possibly her contractions have started.
He leaves. It is always nice, knowing your deductions were right.
I see him. John. Alone at the table. He was early. For one moment, my façade of calm disappears. I am scared, very scared. For the first time, I wonder:
"What if he doesn't?"
I knew I didn't deserve John. I only hoped he would love me still the same.
This moment vanishes soon. Mycroft always told me that I lived in a state of denial. Well, why worry about things that haven't happened yet? I decide to have some fun with John. I disguise myself as a French waiter. My disguises always amused John. Here I come John, keeping my end of the promise.
Can I help you with anything, sire?
I control myself from talking to John. It had been two years since I was this close. Part of me hoped John would see me and thus see through my disguise. But no, he is too busy looking at the menu. Food. Seriously, John?
Hi, yeah. I'm looking for a bottle of champagne. A good one.
I gasp inwardly. I see a ring box in his coat. John was going to propose to me! He is ordering the champagne to celebrate! My heart is racing and I do everything I can to stop revealing myself to him. I am giddy with joy.
These are all excellent vintages, sir.
It's not really my area, what do you suggest?
It was time to show John who I was.
This last one on the list, it's a favorite of mine. It is in fact, you might say, like a face from the past.
I take my glasses off in a flourish.
Great, I'll have that one please.
JOHN! LOOK AT ME!
It is familiar, but with the quality of surprise
My last attempt.
Well, surprise me.
I'm pissed.
I am certainly endeavoring to, sir.
SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS
I go out and buy a bottle of champagne. I take my time, planning to be exactly on the time his reservation was made. I can't not be happy. The love of my life was going to propose to me. It is all fine.
I go in. There's a woman sitting beside John. Must be a friend, chance meeting at the restaurant. I go there with my bottle of champagne.
Sir, you will find this vintage exceptionally to your liking. It has all the qualities of the old with the color of the new.
No, sorry, not now, please
Like a gaze from a crowd of strangers, suddenly one is aware of staring at the face of an old friend
No, look, seriously could you just….
Interesting thing, a tuxedo. Lends distinction to friends and anonymity to waiters.
John gets it.
Well, short version: Not dead
A/N: This is going to end soon. As is, will continue if anyone reviews blah blah blah