Today had been a long painful day, as had most days for the last two years, you knew it wasn't a smart idea to stay living in your ex-boyfriends flat after his death.
You and John had stuck around here for a bit after Sherlock died, neither of you did much, it hurt too much to live your lives without Sherlock Holmes in it. But you both realised he was never going to come back, you would never see the man you loved again and John would never see his best friend again.
John went back to work at the hospital, met a woman named Mary and they had hit it off instantly. Although he officially still lived with you at 221B, he was rarely there, always at work, or staying with Mary but he paid the rent meaning you could keep the place.
It took you longer to move on. You took back to work soon after John had, but you spent most of you time at the flat, unable to do much but think about Sherlock.
Today was a normal day. You suffered through work and then went home. It was different now. Not body parts hidden in the fridge, no 1 am violin music and no more annoying comments. You went home and went back to your flat, avoiding Mrs Hudson.
She was a sweet woman, but she pitied you and you wished she wouldn't.
As soon as you got into your flat you dropped your bag onto the floor. Then you made you way into the kitchen wanting food. There wasn't much food, you bought what you needed and you had a few things that lasted some time hanging around in the cupboards.
Yesterday you had bought a box of sugar puffs. Although you were a semi-functioning adult, you liked your childhood cereal. Opening the cupboard, you grabbed the box but it was empty. You hadn't eaten the cereal. John hadn't been home in a few days, so who had eaten it?
John must had come home and you never noticed.
As you span around placing the box on the side you were surprised with what you saw. There in your living room stood the tall consulting detective you had seen die.
"Sherlock?" you gasped.
"Hello Y/N," he smiled.
Emotions flooded through you. Shock, happiness, betrayal, sadness and finally anger.
"What the hell are you going here? You're supposed to be dead. Did you eat my cereal?" You frowned, anger filling your voice.
"I am sorry. But I have a good reason. And yes, I was peckish, you were two hours late," he shrugged.
"What the hell Sherlock? You faked your bloody death? I've been doing overtime at work so I can afford this place, without John having to stay here," you shouted, "Why are you here?"
"Why are you angry?"
"Who wouldn't be angry you ate all of my cereal and faked your death for two years!?"
You shouted at him, but he slammed his hand over your mouth.
"Keep your voice down. I did it to keep you safe. I have missed you so much. It probably isn't safe for me to be here, but I needed to see you, I needed to let you know I am alive," he sighed, "I'm sorry."
~*~
Written by Charlotte.