"W-what the fuck?" John said quietly.
"John? John it's okay…"
Sherlock said as he stepped closer to the other man who was standing in the door way of the living room.
"Get away from me!" John shouted.
Sherlock felt his words cut through him. He stepped back, raising his hands as if he were surrendering.
"John, I'm sorry, please, please just listen to me."
"No, Sherlock! You are supposed to be dead! Where the hell have you been? Why did you leave?"
John began to raise his voice, feeling the tears spill out of his eyes and roll down his cheeks.
"John, I know it's hard for you to understand all this and that you've been hurting but it has been hard for me as well."
He tried to keep his voice calm and steady but he could feel the anxiety building up inside of him.
"Then where have you been for the past three fucking years? Hard for you? Hard for you! You didn't have to deal with thinking your best friend was dead!"
John began to sob, slouching against the door frame to stop himself from sinking to the floor.
"J-John, I'm so sorry. I have missed you so much."
He stepped closer to John and placed a pale hand on his shoulder. John lifted his head as Sherlock wrapped his long arms around his broad shoulders.
"I hate you Sherlock…"
John murmured into Sherlock's chest
"No you don't, John. But you have the right to be angry at me."
John stepped back and looked Sherlock in the eyes then slowly raised his fist. His knuckles making contact with Sherlock's cheek.