[John]

As that stupid, insignificant man begged for his life having just let go of Sherlock, I was overcome by an immense amount of anger. Although, thinking about it, anger was not the word I would have used to describe the hot fury that was making my blood boil. It didn't even begin to cover what I felt in that moment, but i didn't exactly have the time to come up with a better one. I almost smiled in glee as I raised my gun and shot the bastard, but I felt any show of emotion would ruin the moment, so I kept my face blank. To think that he had attempted to keep Sherlock down there in that dismal room, away from all he knew, was sickening, and I cursed Mycroft for not keeping a better eye on the detective. Frankly I was surprised and completely disappointed that Mycroft had not yet shown up with a rescue party, but it was probably for the best as I didn't know how he would react to me being there. Maybe he would have one of his men 'accidentally' shoot me in the head, though I doubted Sherlock would be very happy with him.

After the light left the criminal's eyes and his body hit the ground, I saw Sherlock was attempting to stand. Pride had always been one of his weaknesses, and even though we could both tell he was under a heavy amount of drugs, he did not want to lower himself by asking for my help. I rolled my eyes and walked closer, pulling him up and allowing him to use my body as a means of support. He didn't look at me, but I was sure he knew who I was as he leaned in closer to me, and I felt him shaking slightly from the chill in the room. It made me wish I could offer him some sort of comfort, but I didn't have an extra jacket and I thought bringing him closer to me would just be awkward.

"Thank you," he said suddenly, distracting me from my thoughts, and he said it so softly that I almost didn't catch it. I wasn't completely sure how to respond, as I hadn't expected such a show of gratitude. The detective was famous for his lack of manners, and I was certain he'd never really meant any of his quick 'thank you's, not like this anyway. I attempted to play it cool with a low "You're welcome," but it sounded so corny that I had to chuckle slightly. Sherlock's head had been against my shoulder until that point, but the vibrations from my laughter caused him to raise it and stare into my face, taking in every detail and no doubt deducing all my little secrets. He must have been satisfied with what he found because he grinned at me with that crooked smile of his.

"That was pretty impressive you know," he said and I couldn't help but return his smile with one of my own.

"They had it coming," I replied simply, and his smile fell a bit. A look of sadness passed through his eyes but was gone before I could interpret it. There was a moment of silence where we both considered what we were going to say to one another, before Sherlock finally filled the room with his deep baritone.

"What happens now?" He asked quietly, and I let out a frustrated sigh. There was nothing I would have loved more than to go with him, but as my breakdown just hours before had shown, I was not fit to be around society anymore. I attempted to tell him this but he interrupted me half way through my explanation.

"Look, John! I don't want to hear any of this about how you're dangerous and shouldn't be around me. I'm a grown man as I have demonstrated multiple times before, and I can take care of myself-"

"Evidently," I said drily. He chose to ignore my comment.

"I can help you. You get better every time you're around me, and this whole situation is proof that you still respect and even care for me. Sometimes, yes, I need protection, but you can provide that! No one in their right minds would attack me with you around." His eyes pleaded with me, and I felt my heart melt just a bit with that familiar look.

"You know why I can't, Sherlock." It hurt me to have to spell it out for him, and annoyed me that I needed to do it again, but if it would stop him from trying to convince me to go back with him then I would do it. "I killed Mrs Hudson. I hurt Donovan. I attempted to execute Mycroft in front of a crowd, for goodness sakes! I can't forgive myself for my actions, and you just proved you can't either! Can't you see that?" I was on the verge of tears now, but Sherlock just looked even more determined, and even slightly smug.

"John, you cannot have possibly expected to be in your right mind after my death, and considering what I jumped off St Barts while making you watch, I am as much to blame as you are in this situation. We will work through this. Years ago, when you first found me, my life was slowly descending back downhill, and I surely would have returned to the drugs again sooner or later. However, you and your silly little jumpers changed that for me and I couldn't have been happier. You saved me, and now I feel it's time for me to return the favour. Please, let me do so." His voice was barely at a whisper by the end, but his words still had me frozen in place. The speech had moved me, and just for a second I allowed myself to consider the impossible. I considered returning with Sherlock, attempting to resume our previous lives before his fall, and realised something. I realised that I had never wanted something so much as I wanted to be John Watson again, loyal flatmate and best friend to the incredible Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective.

And so, with that in mind, I made the best and probably worst decision of my life.

"Okay," I said.

Oh dear! All I could think of while writing this chapter was 'Stop making it so fluffy! We are not going for Johnlock here!' But I just couldn't help it! Don't worry for those of you who don't like that kind of thing, this story will be purely friendship based, as I have no extensive knowledge of relationships in general! And don't worry, this is not the end, in fact there's probably at least another five chapters depending on where I take this, and I shall give you one spoiler that will hopefully make you squeal in anticipation:

Moriarty.