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“I need to get back to London.” Sherlock said decisively as he put on his suit jacket.
“Of course,” Mycroft responded nonchalantly.
“How does this suit look?”
Mycroft raised an eyebrow.
“And what about John Watson?”
“John?”
“Hmm, have you seen him?”
“Oh yes, we meet up every Friday for fish and chips.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked back at the mirror. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Mycroft almost looked sad. But that didn’t make sense, so Sherlock let it slide.
~~~~~
When he visited Molly she just cried. He thought she would have been happy to see him.
~~~~~
Mrs. Hudson looked disappointed and angry. She made tea for them. No sugar. Like John takes it. He smiled fondly at the thought.
She refused to give him any biscuits and sent silently forced him out of her flat.
~~~~~
Greg punched him.
“Fuck you Sherlock!”
“What the hell, Greg?” Sherlock held a hand to his hurting face. He expected Lestrade to either be angry at being deceived, but he hadn’t expected a punch to the face.
“You utter fucking bastard!”
Sherlock watched him, confused but the extreme anger. He watched as Lestrade seemed to realize something. He grew sad for a moment, and then he was all the more angry.
“You don’t even know do you?”
“Know what?” Sherlock tried to deduce something anything off of him. But nothing seemed to explain what was going on.
“Come on,” Lestrade waved for Sherlock to follow him. As they got into Lestrade’s car his confusion grew.
~~~~~
The car stopped in front of 221 Baker Street. Lestrade led him up to flat B. The flat Sherlock shared with John. He was a little surprised when Lestrade unlocked the door, but it made some sense that John would have given him a key.
Everything was the same as how he left it. Well except for the small things John would have moved as he went about his daily business or Mrs. Hudson would have moved to clean. But it didn’t look like John had been living there for months now.
“Why did you bring me here?” Sherlock turned to Lestrade.
“You still don’t get it do you? He hasn’t lived here for months.”
“Yes. After years of me being gone I expect he moved to a new flat that he could afford without feeling like he was living off of Mrs. Hudson’s kindness. Which is ridiculous. I made sure Mycroft was paying rent for both John and I.”
Lestrade’s eyes widened at that. He hadn’t known Sherlock had done that for John and Mrs. Hudson. Then he looked sad again. “You still don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?” Sherlock was starting to get very irritated with Lestrade.
Lestrade just led the way back out to his car and started driving him somewhere else.
~~~~~
When they stopped at Bart’s, Sherlock looked up at the roof. “This is ridiculous Lestrade. I’m not going to tell you how I did it.”
Lestrade just glared at him and took him into the building and straight to the elevator. They took it as far as it would go then walked up the stairs to the roof.
Sherlock looked around it. There was the spot where Moriarty had threatened his friends. There was the spot where Moriarty had forced Sherlock to fake his death by shooting himself in the head. There was where he had given John his note. It still hurt a little to think of how John had sounded. Desperate, terrified, helpless.
Sherlock pulled at his hair. He was missing something. There had to be a reason Lestrade brought him here. “I don’t understand!” He growled. “Why are we here?”
Lestrade sighed and seemed to steady himself. “Alright, alright. I guess we will have to go there then.”
And again Sherlock followed him in frustrated confusion.
~~~~~
They stopped at the graveyard where his empty grave was. Sherlock stepped out of the car and headed in. He knew that Lestrade was just going to take him to his gravestone. He had figured it out. Lestrade was trying to make him feel guilty, which was idiotic. He knew the others would be upset when he ‘died’. But he hadn’t really so Lestrade needed to stop with his pathetic tour of death.
Sherlock was so irritated that he didn’t notice the new head stone next to his own until he was right in front of it.
It stopped him dead in his tracks. No. No, it couldn’t be. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Sherlock collapsed onto the ground and just stared at it.
Lestrade caught up with him and stood a few steps away.
“No. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was stronger than this. He was always stronger than me.” Sherlock couldn’t look away.
“Even the strongest have their limits. You broke his limits.”
“No, no, no. He was supposed to be blindingly angry with me. Then he would forgive me like he always did and I would explain everything. Then I would try to convince him to love me. If he didn’t then I could try to live without his love but at least I would have his friendship.”
“He already loved you. He told everyone that would listen that his greatest regret was that he hadn’t gotten the chance to tell you. He wrote in his note that he wanted to follow you like he always had.”
Sherlock stopped listening. “No, John please no.” Sherlock noted somewhere in the back of his mind that he was begging. John was the only one who could make him. “This was for you. I had to for you. He was going to kill you if I didn’t die.” Tears started to roll down his cheeks. “Please! John I can’t live without you in my life.” Twice Irene had said. Sherlock would beg a lot more than twice if it would ever bring John back to him. Sherlock continued to cry and beg as he pressed his hand to the name on the headstone.
CAPTAIN JOHN H. WATSON