Hunter (Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 18: Return

I woke up the next morning, sweaty with no energy. To freshen myself up a little bit, I went to go shower. But when I opened the door to the bathroom, I screamed at the sight of Sherlock, dressed only in a light grey t-shirt and some shorts, shaving the stubble that he had on his face. He looked at me, confused and annoyed.

"Why are you screaming, you're going to wake the rest of the hotel up." He sighed.

"I-I thought last night was a dream..." I stammered, realizing how weird he must think I am. But over the past two years I was used to having plenty of dreams about Sherlock, and when I woke up I had to live with the reality and nightmare that he was gone. Which is why I loved to sleep so much over the past two years because I had seen him most nights in my dream, but also why I dreaded waking up.

"You thought that it wasn't real and just in your head?"

"Look, I know I sound mental but over the past two years I dreamt of you almost every night. We were back in Baker Street, everything was ok. But when I woke up, every morning for over two years, I would have to face the reality that you were gone." I closed my eyes and thought back to some of the dreams. Some were pleasant dreams, like memories of the date Sherlock and I had, others not so much. Such as the recurring dream I had when I had to relive Sherlock jumping down that building in my head. Sherlock brought me into a hug and let me rest my head on his shoulder.

"I'm real this time, I promise."

"Can you pinch me? Just to make sure?" I asked. He squeezed the skin of my arm hard between his thumb and index finger, making me yell in pain.

"OW! ARSEHOLE!" I jumped out of Sherlock's hug and glared at him. 

"You asked for me to pinch you, did you not?" 

"Yes, not that hard though!" I groaned, rubbing at the now red mark on my arm "At least I know you're real then."

"I don't think ghosts or anyone in a dream could pinch that hard, even if they tried." 

"Thank god. So, what now? What do we do from here?"

Sherlock zoned out, thinking for a second before answering, "We go back to Baker Street, Mycroft said that there's a huge terrorist threat, London's threat level has been turned up to critical."

"All this because an egoistic detective in a funny hat jumped off a building..."

"Oh don't worry, Mycroft said you made an excellent substitute when you took over. Not as good as me of course, but better than the average human."

"Of course, no one comes close to the infamous Sherlock Holmes. You don't think this could be... you know, the curators planning the attack?"

"I've had my suspicions of course, but after carefully evaluating the eighteen possible scenarios and eliminating fifteen of them, the remaining three don't involve the curators." 

"Eighteen scenarios? When did you think about all this?"

"In the past minute." He said seriously. I looked at him for a second before we both burst into laughter. 

"Seriously Sherlock, you can't just turn up to Baker Street after two years like this. You destroyed John, I doubt he's going to slap your face then forgive you." 

"Well we're going to have to try. Will you look at that! The private jet Mycroft booked for us will be arriving at the airport in an hour, we should get going." He said cheerily, glancing at his watch. I went to pack the little stuff I had and we headed off to the airport. 

*****

After a long, fourteen hour flight, we landed back in London. Specifically in Mycroft's garden. I was more than pleased to finally get off the plane and be able to stretch my legs a bit, but my legs had a different plan and I fell down the stairs leading down from the plane. Sherlock walked past me and laughed.