A/N: Ok so there wasn't as much swearing in that last chapter as was apparently in my head! This next one is mostly about John. I had a hard time writing what was in my head. I'm nervous about this & I don't want to mess anything up. So if I make any glaring mistakes about British culture, please forgive me & let me know. I'm apparently terrible insecure!

Chapter 3 – 2 months after RBF

He was tired. Not just in body but heart, soul, spirit. He could have handled the physical aspects of tired. It was normal for him to be physically tired. It was the other three that were so detrimental.

John walked toward the park in the predawn light. It was chilly and damp. Spring was hovering on the edge of appearing. He had been up for at least an hour; he still wasn't sleeping through the night, either from repetition of thoughts that wouldn't still or from the nightmares. Most nights it was from the nightmares. Nightmares of the fall.

He still woke up from them screaming Sherlock's name, pleading with him once again to listen, telling him he couldn't be a fake. He awoke as Sherlock was falling and John couldn't reach him, just after the last words he heard from Sherlock's lips.

Goodbye John

It was the guilt that was the most crushing, that made it hard to move some days. He believed in his head and heart and his soul that he had failed Sherlock in every way conceivable. He also knew that Sherlock had lied to him on the roof when he told him he had faked everything, that it was a magic trick, but he wasn't entirely sure why. He suspected Sherlock had been trying to protect him some how, but everything surrounding that day made it so hard to think and even though he remembered every bit of that horrible last conversation he couldn't get through the emotions to the heart of the matter. It was like it was buried in a thick covering, a blanket, opaque and he was not able to see clearly through the turmoil. He was afraid to look to closely. He might not like what he found underneath.

His friends had been trying to convince him otherwise and had done their best to help him through…everything.

Mike - John was living in Mike Stamford's brother's flat. Mike's brother had a girlfriend, soon to be fiancé, he had moved in with and Mike had asked his brother if John could have his flat for now. John had been grateful. It had simply been too hard to stay at Baker Street and being away from there had helped, somewhat. It was easier to pretend things were becoming more normal away from Baker Street. He was going to have to make a decision about going back or leaving forever. He had been and still was far too tired to think about it. For now.

Sarah - Some things were getting easier. He had managed to get a few shifts a week at the surgery thanks to Sarah. Mike had mentioned there was a job opening up at St. Mary's A & E that he was seriously thinking about applying for. He was finding it a lot easier to get through the days when he was working and while he appreciated everything Sarah had been doing for him he needed something to help keep his mind off of…things. Emergency work should help with that. Thinking about Sarah reminded him he was taking her out to dinner as a thank you. They weren't dating or anything. That ship had sailed. She had simply been there after Sherlock had died. She knew enough about what had happened to keep up with the conversation. She had been sympathetic without being cloying. She didn't judge. And most importantly she listened.

Mrs. Hudson - He did talk to Mrs. Hudson, but that was invariably hard as he couldn't promise her that he would be able to move back anytime soon and the conversation usually ended with her in tears, but he knew he would continue to be there for her in other ways. They were the only two people left who had loved Sherlock for being Sherlock.

Greg – This had been the hardest to reconcile. It had been tense during and after the funeral. Greg had seemed as lost as John, but John hadn't been quite ready to forgive Greg at that point, for what John had felt was a betrayal. Greg hadn't given up, however, calling John every couple of days or so to ask how he was doing and to invite him out for a drink. John had eventually said yes in the hopes of ending the incessant phone calls and because he felt bad for Greg underneath it all. The first meeting had been awkward and stilted, but by the end of the evening they seemed to be able to be friends again. John had mostly forgiven him, because he knew that Greg hands had been tied and the man was, after all, only human. Greg had also been instrumental in getting all charges against John dropped, including the one for "chinning" the Chief Super Intendant. John suspected that Mycroft might have had a hand in that as well, but John had difficulty thinking about Mycroft in a calm and rational manner. He was sure he would never forgive Mycroft for letting Moriarty have access to so much information about Sherlock. With Mycroft even more so than his brother, the ends justified the means no matter who got hurt.

Some of these thoughts were flickering through his mind as he walked. He tried to keep his thoughts as mobile as he possibly could, because if he didn't they might never move off from thinking about Sherlock and he didn't think he could recover from that if he dwelt there too long.

By this time, he had reached his favourite bench, in front of the duck pond. The light from the sun was creeping up over the tops of the buildings. Those times when he knew he wasn't going to return to sleep he went for a walk. It was becoming more common, not less for him to visit the ducks. He had several hours to kill before he had to show up at work and he liked the solitude of the park in the early morning hours. He liked watching the ducks. They also didn't judge.

People who didn't know John would have remarked that he seemed to be handling everything and to be picking up the pieces. He was able to keep a mask on in front of most people, but he was really just going through the motions. People who did know him had only to look in his eyes to see how much had been destroyed the day that Sherlock had jumped. The pieces were not gong to be easily picked up. His friends Mike, Sarah, Greg and even Mrs. Hudson were afraid they might never be.

As he sat there he gradually noticed an increase in human activity. People were slowly making their way through the park. Some like him were early morning risers. Hopefully their insomnia wasn't for similar reasons. Some were cutting through on their way to work and of course there were the ever-present joggers. He wondered if he should start running again. He certainly wasn't getting the same kind of physical exercise anymore, not like before with all the running around with…

And there it was. Everything led back to Sherlock. He sighed. It was so hard to go more than five minutes without Sherlock or reminders of Sherlock getting into the conversation in his head. It didn't help that every time he turned around he kept expecting him to be there and he wanted to tell him about his day, ask him if there were any new cases. He felt his presence everywhere and hear his quiet surprised chuckle. He missed his arrogant verbosity especially when the silence surrounding John was too loud. On days when Sherlock was bored, but they were out and about, Sherlock would tell John everything about everyone. For fun. For John.

Look at the ducks, Watson. Ducks aren't people and people watching reminds you of that brilliant bastard.

He sighed again and stood up. There was no point in sitting here being morose. He had to get back to the flat. There was work to go to and he had to get cleaned up and get ready for the day.

Not watching where he was going he almost ran onto a young woman who was out jogging.

"Sorry. I am so sorry." She smiled at him, nodded as if to say it was ok and kept running. He supposed she was trying to keep up her pace and didn't have time to stop. Shame she didn't stop. She was quite pretty. He had always liked red heads.

Nice, Watson, best mates dead, but you still have space in your head to think about pretty girls. He grimaced to himself and moved off.

oOo

Most of a day later and now on this side of dark, he was heading back to the flat (not home, home was in limbo right now), to get changed and ready to pick up Sarah. His day had been pretty uneventful, but at least it was better than sitting around the flat, not doing anything. He had spent enough days like when he first came back from Afghanistan and then after Sherlock had died.

He was deep in thought, once again not paying any attention to his surroundings, when he ran into someone. At least this morning he had managed to avoid the jogger. Not this time. The other person slammed into him hard enough that John actually staggered.

"Sorry. I am so sorry." he replied automatically. Dick was what actually went through his head. The other man just grunted, said nothing and shambled off down the road. John mentally shrugged, got his keys out and let himself into the building and into the flat.

As he removed his coat, he heard the rustle of paper. He paused, thinking that that was odd, and searched his pockets. There was a piece of paper in the right hand pocket that he knew he had not put there. He opened it and read it.

It would be beneficial to your continued good health to become more aware of your surroundings. Pay attention. Someone has been following you. Do try to stay alive.

What the fuck?

He stood there, stunned, looking at the paper in his hand, slowly blinking as his brain, which seemed to be moving slower than normal tried to process the writing on the paper.

He slowly sank down into the chair, coat and paper still in his hands. His first thought was that he was finally cracking up. It was Sherlock's handwriting and most definitely his tone. Was this some cruel joke or was it simply a piece of paper from before that had been in his pocket all this time. It couldn't be that. Sherlock never wrote a note when he could have texted. He shook his head, extremely puzzled and possibly beginning to hyperventilate.

Although he didn't have Sherlock astounding recall he also never remember getting a note like that from anyone, let alone Sherlock.

He looked at the note again and finally took in the meaning. Someone was following him. Did that mean what it seemed to mean? Was someone really following him? Was he in danger? Or was it simply some twisted reporter after him again trying to get more information about the fake genius? He thought that was behind him as most newspapers had finally switched topics to whatever was the latest scandal. Sherlock was yesterday's news for most people.

He sat there looking at the piece of paper for the longest time and then came to a decision. He picked up his mobile and called Sarah.

"Yeah, hi Sarah. It's John. No everything's all right. It's just that something's come up and I need to reschedule. I am really sorry. No, no really I'm fine." He paused. "I may be better than fine. Look I have to go. I'll call you tomorrow. Ok. Thanks, Bye."

He hung up and stood for a minute more. Then…

"Right"

He put his coat back on and headed out the door. There was something he needed to check out and he was trying desperately to not get his hopes up.

oOo

She had been following Dr. Watson since early morning. She was beginning to wish he would get some sleep, because all the early mornings were starting to take its toll. She had insisted on taking long shifts when she and Mycroft had set up surveillance, because it was her assignment. She was in charge. That and because the longer she watched him the more curious she became. He appeared so unassuming and ordinary, but what she saw and what she overheard from how he interacted with friends and strangers and what they said about him showed he was far from ordinary. She was beginning to see what had intrigued Sherlock so much.

But she was getting tired and she was going to have to switch things around with the rest of Mycroft's teams. She was going to make mistakes. She had almost done that this morning when she had almost, quite literally run into him while out jogging. She hadn't really been out for a run. She was just doing a sweep check, when she realized he was already at his bench. The night team had been getting ready to hand him over to her, but they hadn't radioed in yet to let her know he was already at the park. That was one of the other things she needed to speak to Mycroft about. Some of his team had difficulties following protocol. That was sloppy.

She also wanted to talk to Mycroft about slapping some sense into John Watson. She was beginning to think that they needed to let him know what was going on and why they were tailing him, because he was not being careful. He stuck to the same routine every day, walked the same places, never varied any of his habits, he wasn't paying attention and it was going to get him killed. Someone was very interested in killing him and she was very interested in preventing it.

When Mycroft had come to see her that first night she had arrived in London, he had discussed the whole situation about Moriarty and all the events leading up to Sherlock jumping. He had not held back his own involvement and she had been interested to see how genuinely sorry he appeared. She had never thought she'd live to see the day that Mycroft Holmes would be sorry. Mycroft had also discussed the situation that had led her to being here.

"Sherlock was certain that Moriarty would eventually try to kill him. He was worried that if he died or if Moriarty died there would be repercussions and John would bear the brunt of them. He wanted to ensure John's protection. We discussed various ways we could arrange this. Sherlock felt that John would chaff at being followed around, so we decided to do so without his consent. We discussed various people we could use, but your name kept coming up. Sherlock was adamant. He felt you are the best considering your experience and your other," he waved a lazy hand in her direction, "attributes, which would, shall we say, soften the blow if John found out you were protecting him"

She must have looked puzzled at that last statement because he rolled his eyes at her and then said, "My dear you are not unattractive. In fact you are a singularly striking woman. John Watson is something of a ladies man. Your petite stature should also make him feel protective of you. He probably won't shoot you should he find you following him." He smirked, "At least not right away."

It was her turn to roll her eyes, but she filled that particular bit of information away in case she ever needed to use it and they finished their discussion.

Since she had arrived, Mycroft had received intelligence form someone, that there was an assassin in London with his sights set on Watson. They didn't have a name…yet.

She had followed John around all day, had seen him head back to his apartment (flat she said to herself – she was trying to learn), and was getting ready to turn him over to the night team when he came out of his flat again. She knew he was suppose to have dinner with Dr. Sawyer tonight, but he didn't hail a taxi and he appeared to be heading in the opposite direction. He seemed to be in something of a hurry. Something had clearly happened and she wanted to find out what it was.

As she pulled away from her hiding spot she noticed movement between her and Watson. She stopped and assessed the situation. Someone else came out of the shadows and appeared to be tailing him. She debated whether to call it in, but decided to see how it was going to play out. She wanted more information first.

oOo

John hurried down the road. Mike's brother's flat wasn't terribly far from Baker Street and he felt the need to go on foot. He didn't want to catch a taxi. He was practically running anyway and he would take some of Sherlock's short cuts. In his hurry he forgot about the note's warning. He didn't look around, he didn't observe his surroundings and he didn't notice the two people who were following him, one out of concern, one with intent to harm.

A/N: I hope to have the next chapter up in a couple of days. It should be action packed and probably bloody. Thanks for checking out my story. Special thanks to hjohn302 and sneakysnakes for following along!