John sat at a table by himself at a Mexican restaurant, he never went to the Chinese place anymore, after what happened with Sherlock. He sighed and drank the last sip of his coffee. An unfamiliar waiter approached him. John looked at him apprehensively . "Hello." he said with somewhat of a british accent- it almost sounded faded, or maybe like he was trying to cover it up for some reason . "You're John Watson. Aren't you?" it was more of a statement not a question. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. " he says. "but I read your blog." he pauses. "I'm really quite a fan. And it's a shame what happened to Mr. Holmes. Isn't it?"
"I prefer not to talk about it." John muttered. He was getting a bad feeling about this guy.
"Why not? Are you still in baker street? If you don't mind my asking." he smiled tentatively.
"I do mind actually. And Sh-Sher-Sherlock is a part of my past. I don't wish to bring it back up." he struggled getting this out. The waiter looked slightly hurt for a moment but the look vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "You should go back to baker street this afternoon. Im sure your house keeper wouldn't mind you coming back for a while." he suggests.
"Actually, she's not my housekeeper. She was my land lady, an her name is Mrs. Hudson. It would be too much of a bother." John lifts his coffee to his lips, only then realizes that it's empty. " if you'll excuse me, I've got to go." he stands up to leave.
"Certainly. But do think about it." John leaves a check at the counter and heads to the grocery store.
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He grabbed a jug of milk and went to the check out isle. But all that happened was the machine saying repeatedly "unknown item in bagging area. Please try again." "Aw, hell. Screw it." John exclaims as a hand grabs his elbow. "let me get that for you . It looks like you might need some help." John turns around, surprised to see Greg Lestrade beside him. He scans it easily and hands it to John. "Show off-thanks." John mutters. His phone goes off in his pocket. John let his mouth open in shock at the message he saw. He made no attempt to hide it, so Lestrade could read it. It read: "if convenient come at once. If inconvenient, come anyways. I've bought milk, and Mrs. Hudson is making a pot of tea.
-SH"
John couldnt believe what he saw, he read it back over 3 times to make sure. "Is this a joke?" Lestrade asks appalled. "Let's find out. Do you have a gun on you?" John asks leading the way out the store. Lestrade pats his holster.
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John and Lestrade bust open the door and run upstairs inside the flat. Guns drawn, Expecting a mad man to be a waiting them . And indeed there was. Before them sat Sherlock Holmes.
"Sher-Sherlock?" John asks, afraid to believe what he was seeing. After all, this was his former best friend that he had seen commit suicide. "Hello, John. Lestrade." he nods casually as if just running into them somewhere in town. How? John started to ask. Sherlock cut him off. "It was quite simple, actually. All I had to do was get Mycroft to clear the street, blow up a mattress , hire make up artists, make Moriarty kill himself, make sure you didn't get killed, and jump." Sherlock summed up his fake suicide. "And, John, I'm sorry." He says hestitantly. He sounded vulnerable. "Sherlock..." John starts. He stares off into space for a moment. "How did you know I would come back?"
"You're a creature of habit, you'd end up coming back eventually anyways to check up on Mrs. Hudson, or plain curiosity would drive you back. It's obvious."
"You were that bloody waiter, weren't you?" John asked. Though Sherlock laughed a little, he lowered his gaze. John law his gun drop to the ground, he couldn't stand the look of hurt and vulnerability on his face- the face of a genius with only one friend, who could mask any emotion. This was his best friend after all. He took a quick couple steps forward and wrapped his arms around Sherlock, in a best friend manner. He tentatively hugged back. He pulls away. And takes a few steps back. "Damn, Sherlock. How could you do that to me? For God damn sake? Im your best friend? You know how many friends I've had to bury, to see get killed? Too many. You just about did me in." he shakes his head in disbelief and lets out a string of cuss words. "Im sorry, John." Sherlock says, looking hurt, sympathetic, and guilty at the same time. "I had to keep you, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade alive. I did it so none of the people close to me would suffer." Lestrade looks up at his name. "Oh, I'll explain everything later." Sherlock says.
"But we DID suffer Sherlock!" John busts out. Sherlock's face was down cast. "I'm sorry, I just..I've been so tense and depressed. I don't want to make you feel to awful." John realizes how his words affected Sherlock and pulled him into another hug.
"It's okay Sherlock, just tell us how you did it, yeah?" John asked, leading his best friend to the couch in the living room and the trio sat down, sinking into the cushions. Lestrade and John listening closely, with absolute attention and fascination as Sherlock relayed his story of how he faked his own death.