This chapter is rather short and it only takes place in Sherlocks mind, which is a world quite interesting to determine. ;) So there will be no dialogue at all. Hope you like it anyway. ;)

Chapter 4

Plans for resurrection

Resuming this whole business again had been Sherlocks idea only. He had spent the last few months in constant disguise. That didn't mean he was wearing a mask, he just hadn't been visible. He'd been not more than a shadow, somebody who watched quietly and unseen.

What he'd been watching was John. His actual plan had been to leave the town, leave all the people who knew him. To forget.

Actually this wasn't a hard task for him. He never forgot facts and formula, but he easily forgot sentimental issues, for they never really were issues to him.

But somehow he couldn't forget John, couldn't forget his face when he looked up to him standing on the top of that roof. The way he screamed „Sherlock!". It echoed through his head all the time. It was a scream that made his blood freeze in his veins. It gave him nightmares.

And this was absolutely disconcerting. Sherlock never had nightmares in his life. He usually slept like a dog. The only things that sometimes kept him awake were the fascinating mysteries and puzzles of a case. But he'd never paid attention to something as ordinary and stupid as dreams.

And now he'd fallen prey to their claws.

And to the claws of boredom. During the last months, the only puzzles his mind worked on were how to roam about the city without being recognized by anyone and how to get the things he needed for his everyday life.

And of course how to move on.

He'd moved to a small flat that only consisted of a tiny bedroom, a bathroom and a fitted kitchen that only contained a fridge and two hotplates.

Molly had organised it for him and it was acceptable for the moment, but he wouldn't be able to bear this narrowness in perpetuity.

Another reason he chose that place was that it was just two blocks of flats away from Baker Street. So sometimes he could walk over and look up to the illuminated windows of their former flat.

So many times he'd been on the verge of ringing the bell. Just pushing the button and waiting for John to open the door. And then explaining everything to him and hoping he forgives.

But with his finger hovering in front of the button he paused every time. And then walked back to his flat.

Day after day after day.

So the days trickled away as stringy as honey while nothing happened at all and the need to return to his old life became stronger.

Sherlock had learned that this wasn't done by just turning up at Baker Street saying 'Hello! I'm back.'ve never been dead as a fact. How about getting ourselves a new case?'

He didn't want to hurt John no more, this was of top priority of whatever he was planning to do. But he'd probably be hurt anyway, after all Sherlock had made him belief he was dead for months and left him alone in his grief.

On that account Sherlock felt guilty, really deeply guilty.

Damn, this sentimental business was rather hard to handle!

Maybe the reason therefore was that Sherlock had no experience in it at all. He'd never seen the point of comforting someone.

He was clever, all others were stupid, no exceptions, no connections, case closed!

He'd thought that he was happy sticking to this rule. Well, he'd actually never felt something like real happiness, but he'd been feeling fine, there'd been nothing he missed, nothing at all.

Once one allows feelings to take control, it was so hard to get rid of them. For Sherlock it was a quite unfamiliar situation and so he first decided to ignore them and look forward to beginning a new life somewhere else.

There surely would be work for him to do outside of London as well. There were murders and mischief everywhere and if not as a detective, he could also work as a forensic or a chemist. Somewhere far away, at some place that the gossip didn't reach. Well basically a place that didn't receive the main British newspapers.

When he realised that he couldn't leave London, for reasons of sentiment and worry about John, it made him feel angry and annoyed first and then somehow sad. There was no place he could go to without the memories haunting him and even his 'mind palace' wasn't safe from them.

So his only opportunity was to return and unravel all the lies that had been spread about his 'suicide'.

Scotland Yard was the place to start. It had surely been the hell of a shock for Lestrade, but, as Sherlock assumed, he'd finally helped him to get one step closer towards his final aim: The resurrection of Sherlock Holmes and the total restoring of his reputation.

The next step actually should have been meeting John again and apologizing to him for all the pain he had to go through. This part didn't work that well.

He'd been aware of the difficulties that would appear if he tried to confront John at a place so openly as a crime scene, but he'd hoped to have a moment with him in private, he hadn't expected Lestrade to get that much officers on a case so unimportant.

So Plan B: Become visible to John and hereby give him a clue, that you're not dead as a matter of fact, so the full reappearance later won't be such a great shock for him.

This part probably succeeded. John had definitely seen him, he could tell that from his face. And Lestrade said so, too.

So how to proceed now?

His first idea had been to follow John on his way back home and somehow show up to him, but his plan had been scrapped by John being taken home by some officers and there was no point in running after them.

So he decided to wait for him somewhere near 221b Baker Street and then follow him without attracting his attention until the right moment.

No excuses today! He had to do this. He simply had to.

This is the first chapter I wrote in English right from the start. Do you approve it? Thanks for any review! :)