John and Greg flashed looks at each other, while Sherlock was staring in the direction where the voice came from. Both of the other men were both trying to mask their panic from Sherlock but were failing miserably. They both looked over and saw Sally marching over with a sort of bewildered look on her face, along with the look of hatred coming back to her face.
'You have all the press surrounding you and yet you're coming over here?'
"Are they coming over here?" Sherlock asked John.
As Sally neared, her eyes widened in amazement, she was staring right at the deceased Sherlock Holmes! She was completely unaware that the reporters snuck inside of the crime scene because she turned around to see that they were following after her like a pack of baby ducks would their mother. Greg got John's attention and said, "Hurry."
John grabbed Sherlock's arm.
"Time to go, Sherlock."
"But we've only just gotten here."
"We'll come back later...just...not right now."
But it was too late. All three of them could hear several voices shout, "IT'S SHERLOCK HOLMES, BACK FROM THE DEAD!"
John had to brace himself and his friend for what was about to happen. He could hear Lestrade yelling at them to take one of the cars back while holding Sally by her arm as if he was ready to give her a verbal lashing. It was all too much, everything seemed to be moving slowly, they were surrounded by flashes of white and questions asked all at one time. John could only catch a few.
"Why did you fake your death?"
"You look a little pale, are you back on drugs?"
"Was this all a set-up just like Moriarty?"
"Were you ever going to reveal to us what actually happened?"
"Sherlock do you understand that many people hate you for making Moriarty up, right?"
John couldn't explain how sorry he felt for his friend, he looked like a deer in headlights. He was so lost and confused, and he even looked scared. He was getting ambushed by these people and John knew that Sherlock's anxiety wasn't always the best so he could only imagine how he felt. Eyes darted back over to Greg who was shouting at Sally but she was too busy talking about 'The Freak' being alive to hear a word he was saying. He heard Sherlock responding to the questions.
"What?"
"Who's Moriarty?"
"I don't know what you're talking about?"
The John heard him flat out begging.
"Please leave me alone. John I want to leave."
But like the vultures they are, they wouldn't let up. Clearly they can't tell that he was in distress and was overwhelmed and probably on the verge of passing out but they didn't care about that. They only want just enough to get their paycheck and to become more famous than the night before. John never liked reporters, and from what he was experiencing now made him loathe them. He gave another tug on Sherlock's coat sleeve and those grey eyes met his own. They were blue now, with a hint of gold in them. That was John's cue to rush him out of there. Everything sounded distant to John. The incessant shouting of the ravenous journalists with Greg's own shouts blending in with them, they all sounded so far away. It was Sherlock's and his own breathing that he could hear clearly. Each heartbeat. John could hear his breathing and Sherlock's as if it were in his own head. That's all that mattered, just the two of them. He needed to get Sherlock home, he needed to shut the curtains, tell Mrs. Hudson to not come upstairs for a while and if he needed to, hold him. He would hold Sherlock all night. At this point, he doesn't even care if it's gay or not, Sherlock needs him.
It seemed like an eternity before they finally made it to the police car that was waiting for them, John swung the door open and let Sherlock crawl inside first since he was the one they were after. As soon as John was able to go inside and closed the door, the horde showed up with cameras, notepads, microphones, anything they needed to get Sherlock to talk. They looked like zombies, they were literally smashing their faces onto the window and trying to catch photos of the both of them, and no doubt at least all of the photos were going to come out blurry because the car was already in motion. John saw that Sherlock seemed to be in the midst of an anxiety attack and the best he could offer right now was his hand, which Sherlock gladly took. He rubbed the younger's man hand with the pad of his thumb and never lost eye contact with him. They were both staring at each other now, and for a moment, nothing else was there. Their surroundings were out of focus, but they were both clear as day. Sherlock's eyes seemed even brighter, even though they still held the fear and desperation of the attack that they experienced. His breathing was unsteady, and he was trying his damnedest to not break down right then and there, but there was something about staring at John that brought a certain peace to him. It was a mutual effect.
"Alright, we're here."
Both of them jumped and John immediately moved to console him, he was already jumpy from the whole ordeal and he doesn't need to get worked up anymore.
"Shh...We're here, Sherlock."
"Home?"
John was so glad that he started referring to 221b as his home now. That's what it should be, and that's how it will remain. Sherlock grabbed John's hand and slowly started exiting the car, only letting go for a few moments. John let their hands reconnect because it made Sherlock calm down, and he ignored the looks the cop was probably giving him. He gave a curt nod and then opened the door to their flat and made their way up the stairs.
~~~~~~
"Well well, the great detective is back from the dead."
"Yes, he is, as I am sure you are watching the news right now. Quite the story."
"Yes, the news stations are going mad with this new story. Sherlock Holmes back from the dead."
"And what do you think of it?"
"...I don't."
"Well surely this has some sort of effect on you. I mean, after that whole fiasco with Moriarty..."
"I don't think it's any of your business."
"It is now, whether you like it or not."
A deep sound that passed for a chuckle was heard.
"I am feeling a bit drained so I'm afraid I'll be hanging up now. Take care, and I'll see you soon...Mycroft."
The call was ended.