Y/N's P.O.V.
"Oh my god!" John yelled, moving away as Sherlock began pacing.
"Why didn't you call the police?"
"Can you just-"
"Why do you never call the police?!" John yelled at Sherlock and I sat down, rubbing my temples.
"Well, it's no use now." Sherlock muttered.
"So you can't switch the bomb off and you didn't call the police?" John paced.
"So this is how I die." I spoke to no one in particular.
"Not how I was expecting to go, but I can't complain that I had a boring death."
"Go, both of you, now." Sherlock pointed towards the door and I scoffed.
"There's no time to get away and if we don't do this, other people will die!" John yelled at Sherlock.
"Mind palace! Use your mind palace!"
"How will that help?" Sherlock pulled a face.
"You've salted away every fact under the sun!"
"Oh, and you think I've got 'how to defuse a bomb' tucked away in there somewhere?" Sherlock shouted back.
"Yes!" Sherlock looked between us, before nodding slightly.
"Maybe." He mumbled, before placing his fingers against his temples once more. John shouted at him, telling him to think as Sherlock hummed, clearly struggling under the pressure.
"I can't!"
"Oh my God." John walked to the other end of the carriage as Sherlock pulled off his scarf and knelt next to the bomb. He gestured for me to come over and I knelt next to him. He winked at me, before flipping a switch and my eyes widened as John had an existential crisis, his back turned.
Sherlock began to frantically mess around with the bomb as if he hadn't just switched it off.
"I'm sorry." Sherlock looked up at John.
"What?" John asked.
"I can't do it, John. I don't know how." Sherlock whispered.
"Forgive me."
"What?" That really must have been John's favourite word because hearing him repeating it was starting to get on my nerves.
"Please, John, forgive me." Sherlock begged.
"For all the hurt that I caused you."
"No, no, no, no. This is a trick." John shook his head.
"Another one of your bloody tricks. You're just trying to make me say something nice."
"No." Sherlock denied and I rolled my eyes, standing up and moving away from the pair.
"Not this time."
"It's just to make you look good, even though you acted like..." John sighed heavily.
"I wanted you to not be dead."
"Yeah, well, be careful what you wish for. If I hadn't come back, you wouldn't be standing there and... you'd still have a future with Mary."
"Yeah, I know." John snapped at him.
"Look, I find it difficult. I find it difficult, this kind of stuff."
"I know." Sherlock sighed and I looked at him. Sherlock was genuinely upset. It wasn't acting. He knew the bomb was disarmed, but he still looked sad. It all clicked together in my mind suddenly and my eyes widened.
He wasn't doing this to screw with John, he was doing it because he needed John to forgive him for faking his death. He felt so guilty that he had to force John into forgiving him.
"You were the best and the wisest man that I have ever known. Yes, of course I forgive you." There were genuine tears in Sherlock's eyes and John sucked in a breath as he closed his eyes and Sherlock looked at me, smirking ever so slightly, before he looked back at John and began giggling.
"You're a bastard." I spoke up as Sherlock's giggles turned into full laughter as John looked over at the bomb, seeing the countdown had stopped.
"You..." John began.
"Oh, your face!" Sherlock laughed.
"...utter..."
"Your face!" Sherlock repeated, laughing so hard that he struggled to stand.
"You cock! I knew it! I knew it! You..." John yelled at him.
"Oh, those things you said, such sweet things. I never knew you cared." Sherlock grinned, glancing back at me.
"You knew he was doing this..." John pointed at me and I gave him an apologetic look.
"You know, I will kill both of you if you ever breathe a word of this..."
"Scouts honour." Sherlock giggled.
"... to anyone! You knew! You knew how to turn it off!"
"There's an off switch." Sherlock pointed out and John's face went blank for a few moments.
"There's always an off switch. Terrorists can get themselves into all sorts of of trouble if there's not an off switch."
"So why did you let me go through all that?" John looked at him.
"I didn't lie altogether. I've absolutely no idea how to turn any of these silly little lights off." Sherlock smoothly changed the subject, laughing a little.
"And you did call the police?" John asked as the sound of police radio caught my attention as several officers came down the tracks.
"Of course I called the police." Sherlock scoffed.
"I'm definitely going to kill you." John sighed.
"Oh please. Killing me, that's so 2 years ago." Sherlock walked past me, leaving the carriage and John laughed a little, shaking his head.
~
"I never would have guessed, the great Sherlock Holmes has a heart." I smirked as I hung up my coat next to Sherlock's.
"What are you going on about now?" Sherlock sighed, dropping down in his chair, picking up a newspaper.
"You and John." I looked at him carefully.
"That whole thing you did back there, pretending you didn't know how to turn off the bomb? I know why you did it."
"To mess with John. That's it." He answered dismissively.
"Come on, Sherlock. I'm not stupid. You needed him to forgive you." He put the newspaper down, looking at me with a glare.
"You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know anything about me." He replied defensively.
"I know everything I need to know about you, Sherlock." I sat opposite him once again.
"You claim to be a sociopath and maybe you used to be one, but John changed you. You care for him more than you want to admit. Back there, you needed his forgiveness and you'd do anything to get it, even if it meant convincing him that he was going to die." He narrowed his eyes at me.
"I also know that you can't figure me out."
"You're wrong." He leaned forward.
"You're an only child, who got out of a long-term relationship probably just before I faked my death. You have some kind of criminal record, something serious enough to catch Mycroft's attention, but not enough for you to be locked up. The criminal record that ties you to Moriarty. But you had a change of heart. Instead of working for Moriarty, you turned against him. I just can't figure out why. Maybe he did something, or maybe-"
"You couldn't be more wrong." I smiled.
"The only thing you did get right was the long-term relationship, it ended a week before you faked your death and I can assure you it wasn't wasn't with Jim Moriarty."
"Then what is your connection to him? Why go through the trouble of dismantling his network?" He questioned and I sighed.
"A story for another time, perhaps." I stood up and I felt his eyes following me to the door.
"I should get going. I'll be back tomorrow with my stuff." I pulled my coat on, before giving him a small smile.
"Goodnight, Sherlock."
"Goodnight, Y/N."
