I've decided that i'm going to do this story by passing it from John to Sherlocks POV, so just clearing that up! enjoy!
Also I'm sorry the chapters are short, but I'll try to make as many of them as I can, so hopefully that will do.
Sherlock walked away from his old friend into the fog, his heart almost beating out of his chest.
"That didn't go very good, did it?" he muttered to himself.
When he walked into the restaurant, he expected a bit of violence, but in no way did he think John would make a scene inside.
He planned everything: made sure he knew where John was, planned what he'd say, thought out as many reaction scenarios as he could (apparently not enough), and still, none of that had helped him at the moment of truth. His lip felt swollen, he could taste blood in his mouth and his ribs ached. Oh, and Mary! John was engaged! How did he not know that? He knew that his blogger had gone on a few dates, he'd even had tabs on this certain woman, but his homeless network had told him nothing about engagement. He felt slightly… betrayed. He stayed up in his hotel room all night, running the scene in his head and thinking about it, until at about half past 10 his phone rang.
"Hello?" he answered in a cautious tone. He hadn't switched his phone number, and he was getting called by teens who had went to the detectives site after his death and wanted to know what would happen.
"Hello, Sherlock, it's Mary, John's-"
"Yes, I know. Hello." He cut the feminine voice off before she could finish her sentence.
"yes, well, I told you I'd call, to, Er- set up a meeting for you boys. Tomorrow?" she asked sweetly. Sherlock could hear John sigh in the background, muttering something about not wanting to go. Sherlock cleared his throat.
"Yes, I'd like that very much," he said in an emotionless voice.
"So, John will meet you at half past five at Baker street?"
"Oh, you two still live there?" he asked naively. Of course he knew where they lived.
"Yes. I'll be out of the house, so you two will be able two talk."
"Thank you." He said, putting his phone down. He picked up his violin, playing a song he had written many weeks ago.
John paced around the living room of 221b Baker street, hands fiddling with the edge of his jumper.
"Really, Mary? I am not a toddler, I don't need you to set me up on play dates," he said.
"Well, apparently you do! You aren't grown up enough to meet your supposedly dead best friend!' she answered, throwing her hands up in the air, a tinge of annoyance in her voice.
John stopped his pacing, looking his fiancée dead in the eye.
"He was gone for over two years. You saw the state he had left me in, and he picks now to tell me all my grieving was for nothing? How is that in anyway okay?!"
Mary pursed her lips.
"I know it isn't what you want right now, but it is what you need, trust me." She said, advancing towards him and hugging her man tightly.
John relaxed, hugging her back.
"Fine, I'll go." He said, his words muffled by her blond hair.
"I love you."