Chapter 2: Sherlock's Question
Two weeks later:
Sherlock started taking cases again and Lestrade was happy to see him alive for John's sake.
John couldn't be better, he was back to his old self, but was still watching over Sherlock as he never explained why he faked his own death. He would ask him about that later.
But now he was making tea to drink while he updated the blog.
Sherlock lay on the couch in his robe thinking about a case when he turned to John. He then studied him. His breathing, normal; his eyes, locked on his computer screen.
Then Sherlock decided. He would finally ask what he couldn't deduct.
"John"
"Yes Sherlock?"
"When I was gone… why didn't you give up? Why didn't you try to move on?"
John froze. Could he tell him? Would this be the right time? No. At least, he wouldn't put it out bluntly. He thought of ways to stay calm. But he knew, once he spoke those words, he will start unraveling.
"Because. I care about you Sherlock. I care."
"Well, people care for friends but why didn't you stop after I 'died'? People usually are sad for a bit, and move on with their lives."
Friends. He said friends. Well that's what they were after all. No use in coming clean now.
"Because I did Sherlock. I cared. And I still do."
"But John-"
"Drop it Sherlock."
"John-"
"I said drop it."
And with that John closed his laptop, rose from his chair, and left for his room where Sherlock wouldn't see him so upset. Not upset with him, but with himself.