A/n: I can't believe it's already chapter 4! I would like to thank my lovely reviewers. I love you guys ^_^ . I'd respond to your reviews via message like I used to once upon a few years ago, but I don't know just how weird that is... O.o Now, without (much) further delay~

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Changing into other people isn't an attribute I have, and I certainly haven't developed it in the last week.

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My Absence, Hardly Worth Noting

Chapter 4

The two spent a moment exchanging glances until John broke the silence, "Why, Sherlock?" Brow furrowing, he stared at his younger friend, waiting for an answer.

Play dumb. "Why what?" Sherlock replied with a confused look on his face. The better question is what he is even doing here...Breathing slightly exasperated (though his level of fitness has decreased), warm coat off (clutched), partially running on his way. No phone, no keys, no wallet. Left in a hurry. Shoes, the mud, he traipsed around the whole park. Mrs. Hudson talked to him no doubt...John came looking for me. Why?

"That is probably the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say," John rallied, annoyed at how daft and unobservant his friend thought he was. "You lied, and I want to know why. I don't know what part of it, but I know you played me like your damn violin."

Sherlock stood in a numb silence, his right hand clutching the strap of his violin case. Did he really think he could pull something like this over John? The person who knew him better than he knew himself. What aspects about his own personal attitude had he forsaken for this ploy? How did he act around John? It's just so natural...

John sighed, slipping into his coat after the heat from his jaunt wore away. "You're Sherlock Holmes, not some bloody doormat," he grumbled in a low tone to avoid letting the passers-by in on the conversation, "You just don't lay down and take anything. I knew you were lying...You wanted to come back. But what was that little show you put on towards the end there? I didn't recognize it at first, but the Sherlock Holmes I know would have defended himself somehow. Try to clumsily talk his way out of everything to make it all okay. But that, that was planned."

As much as he didn't want to confirm John's assertions, Sherlock wanted to applaud him for being so observant of his proclivities that he could apply them in practice (though with a delayed reaction). He knew he wasn't good with social situations, and the best advice he'd gotten on damaging relationships in the last few years was from crappy, over-dramatized telly (which was more often than not in language that he didn't fully comprehend at the time). Sherlock knew how to get what he wanted from people he didn't know, but John seldom gave him exactly what he wanted without a grain of salt. Why on Earth did he think he could simply just pull the wool over his only friend's eyes? John wasn't most people.

"Dammit, Sherlock! Speak!" John snapped in a hushed voice. After another moment of silence, he took Sherlock by the arm and led him out of the park. "We're going to the flat, and we're going to figure this out," he decided.

"What if I had somewhere else to stay?" Sherlock asked, allowing himself to be pulled. In his state, there was no use in fighting him.

Rolling his eyes, John tugged the injured man a little harder and recoiled, "Your first instinct was to stay in the bloody park. Unless you have an informant for whatever reason, which you don't...You wouldn't let me drag you along if you did. You've no where to stay and it's getting cold. Now come on. I know it's getting dark, but I'm not yanking you along the whole way." John released the younger man's hand and watched as he fell in step with his own.

Sherlock didn't know whether to be pleasantly surprised with John or if he should be irritated at his plan's failure. It's like he is some temperamental wife who just ran home to Mummy and Daddy, waiting for her husband to come get her for some sense of how much she is loved. But not, Sherlock didn't want to be retrieved yet here he was, walking back with John. How contradictory, he noted. Fussy things...emotions.

Aside London's bustling, their walk continued in silence, and before they knew it, they were climbing the seventeen steps to 221B. Turning the doorknob, John pressed in against the unlocked door and opened it for the younger man. Sherlock took a step inside and took a deep breath. Mere hours ago he had said he would never see this place, let alone John, ever again. And here he was, breaking the declarations of his past self. What was he? Some sort of overweight, down-on-his-luck, middle-aged man at New Years, promising that he would exercise more, work harder, and do better with the ladies? Might as well be...

Stomach growling, John opened the fridge only to find a box of baking soda abandoned in the back. Closing the door, he searched the cupboards and was rewarded with an opened package of stale crackers. As he turned to yell towards the common room, he saw Sherlock standing in the doorway. Jumping slightly, John polled, "Chinese sound good?"

Though he had lived on properly-made Chinese food for a few months, Sherlock nodded. He hardly ever tasted it anyway, and meals were few and far between. As John set to the phone, Sherlock set the electric kettle to boil and pulled the box of tea bags from their usual place. If there was one thing stocked in the flat, it would be tea. Sifting through the varieties, Sherlock was comforted by the brands he couldn't find elsewhere. He plucked two bags of his selection, set them on the counter, and gingerly took two mugs from the cupboards, placing them before him. Ripping both baggies open, he dropped a teabag in each cup for good measure.

After ordering the food, John turned to face his younger companion. "Let's just eat and sleep tonight, yes?" he suggested, offering the best compromise he could manage. Sherlock agreed and continued glaring at the clear kettle as if his gaze could somehow increase the temperature of the heating element. Chuckling, John watched as Sherlock grimaced at the kettle, his lengthy, stray curls winding around his face. I wonder if he's cursing it for its impudence...He really looks like a kid. "When was the last time you cut your hair?"

Without looking up, Sherlock answered, "A few months, probably."

"Probably?"

"I didn't particularly pay attention to time. There was no need." Pulling at one of his own curls, he commented, "I suppose they are getting long." Tugging at another, he straightened and released it, watching as it sprung back into its original state.

The conversation growing awkward, John had no clue what to say in response. Small talk with Sherlock Holmes was, well, previously unheard of; he always had something to prattle about whether it be to himself, the nearest inanimate object, or John. Irritated by the silence, Sherlock interjected, "I was thinking about calling Mycroft."

"You told me he doesn't know, right?" John recalled, thankful for Sherlock divulging both a legitimate topic and talking a bit about himself.

Sherlock nodded and continued, "He may, but I sincerely doubt it..." The kettle beeped, confirming it had reached the desired temperature.

As Sherlock grabbed the handle and poured the water into both cups, John questioned, "But wasn't he your archenemy?"

"Recent affiliations have forced me to reconsider that moniker..." Sherlock trailed off as he focused on bobbing his tea bag in the hot water. No, Mycroft wasn't his archenemy. Mycroft was pleasant by comparison to the cretin he dealt with in the last few years. Peachy even.

John took his own cup. "'Recent affiliations'?" he probed, wondering just how much of the puzzle he would get tonight.

"Correct," the detective stated without further elaboration. "He is my brother, after all..."

Completely floored by the sudden sincerity, John pressed, "So you miss him?"' What happened to him? I swear he'd never get rid of his distaste for his big brother...

"I suppose that would be the word for it." Opening the cupboard once more, Sherlock pulled down the light sugar jar. Lifting the lid, he scowled at the empty container and promptly shoved it back on the shelf. "We need sugar," he declared, taking a sip of his overly-bitter tea with a grimace.

"We need a lot of things," John commented, remembering how bare the fridge was. "There's nothing but baking soda in the fridge...And the best we have for food around here is a couple of stale crackers..."

What has John been eating? He never skips meals...He's not as healthy as he was the last time I saw him...

The doctor watched his friend's eyes scan over him. Chuckling, John explained, "I buy food at the hospital usually. I've been eating too many muffins lately, getting a bit chubby, I know."

"Ah," Sherlock breathed in relief.

Back to the awkward silence...Mycroft. Right. "So do you think you're going to call Mycroft?" John asked, trying to keep the conversation alive until at least the Chinese arrives. Eating excuses the need for conversation, right?

"I don't know," Sherlock replied, shocked by his own words. But I don't. What on Earth do I say? 'Hello, brother, guess what? I'm not dead.' And then Mummy, she'll cry. I don't want to deal with that.

"Well, if you plan on living your life as Sherlock Holmes again, you're going to have to deal with the consequences of the people you've left behind..." John lectured, counting himself in that category. For the meantime, he just had to keep Sherlock at bay and figure out what he was doing before he fell right back onto his doorstep. As much as John wanted to completely flip, he knew Sherlock needed the help more right now.

Sighing, Sherlock mumbled, "I didn't plan on coming back."

"What were you going to do then?" John asked, draining his cup. He didn't plan on coming back. Did he really just do it to leave because he wanted to? But wait, Sherlock was a disgrace after his death, but his reputation partially returned once some of Moriarty's men spilled the beans to authorities. Did he have something to do with it? But that would mean that he wanted to come back...That or his ego was getting to him...

Before Sherlock had the chance to answer to his uncertainty, the deliveryman knocked on the door, and John fled to pay for and retrieve the food. A moment later, John returned, bearing a bag full of take-out boxes.

Sitting down at the table, they sorted out the boxes, and began eating. John shoveled his chow mein into his mouth unceremoniously while Sherlock poked at his teriyaki beef. At this point, he was more tired than anything, the wear of today's events finally getting to him. After eating a couple pieces of meat, a few vegetables, and a couple of scoops of rice to satiate his stomach, Sherlock stood without a word and put his remaining share of food in the fridge. Flopping on the couch, Sherlock soon found much-needed sleep.

Following the gradual rise and decline of Sherlock's chest, John's eyes strayed back to his food. He wasn't particularly hungry anymore. Slipping out of his place, John, too, stuck his leftovers in the empty fridge. Dropping into the chair opposite the couch, the doctor propped his head on his hand to find a comfortable spot to watch the resting detective. Even in their prime together, witnessing Sherlock sleeping was a rare occurrence.

The day's tire grating on him, John refrained from sleep. For once, heading upstairs to his room was the last thing he wanted to do. From upstairs, he couldn't necessarily hear Sherlock leaving. He'll just wake up and think it was just a hauntingly horrible dream, reminding him of what he missed but couldn't have while the real, living Sherlock skulked off into the night. He got his miracle. Three years late, but late was always better than never, he figured. Without Mrs. Hudson's prodding, he still probably would have gone after the man. Losing Sherlock again for good just might be the end of him.

The other man's light breathing soothed John, and he gradually succumbed to sleep in turn.

A/n: Hello, sorry, it's a filler chapter (after a week's wait *cringes*)...If I were actually into writing smut of this fandom, you'd have a bit of a more interesting read, I suppose. But ah well! Hopefully you enjoyed. Please review! I'll probably be up with the next chapter in a few days (my busy week is coming to a close!), so please make me happy in the meanwhile~ Bye!