He did it for you

Back to Baker street

So before I start this fanfic I'd like to say a few words, so please read this.

This is my first published fanfiction and I am terribly nervous. I have written other fanfics,not Sherlock ones, but at the time I didn't think them to be to my best capability. I usually get off track with my writing, and get writers block. It just seems like any idea I have, someone else has too. I will try to write in chapters, so if anyone has ideas or suggestions please feel free to tell me. Thank you and enjoy the read! -Kaylee

In a dark dingy room sat a man. A well known man, who risked his life for the greater good of his friends; and in return he was given the best gift of all. A second chance.

He sat in a chair, hands folded in a steeple under his chin watching his impatient brother.

"London's terror level is-"

"I know."

Mycroft stopped in his tracks and glared at his brother.

"Oh and I suppose you know about John as well dear brother mine?"

The tall man sat up, buttoning his purple dress shirt.

"Do not take me for a child My-croft, of course I know. I was planning on surprising him at-"

"He's getting married Sherlock."

Sherlock furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Your point?"

"He fell in love. Do you know what love is Sherlock? Do you know what it means?"

"Yes, but I don't see the point. I'll meet John, he'll have his sentimental episode and then we'll get back to work."

Mycroft breathed heavy and leaned on his umbrella.

"He won't be happy that you're back. You've been gone two years Sherlock, imagine the pain you've caused him.

"I'm sure he'll change his mind." Said Sherlock, putting on his all too familiar coat.

"And what makes you think that?

Sherlock turned up the collar on his coat and smirked at Mycroft.

"Because I'm Sherlock Holmes."

Apparently Sherlock had been wrong.., how so? Apparently he wasn't welcome in his own flat. After the near heart attack Ms.Hudson had, Sherlock sat down in his chair and blew off the dust from his laptop. A few comments about his "death"; tarnishing the intellect he had tried to maintain on his website. He shut his laptop and went to grab a book when the door creaked open, revealing a small blonde haired man wearing a jumper. Sherlock froze in place and put his arms behind his back awaiting his long lost partner.

John stepped out from behind the door frame looking right through Sherlock.

"You know I'd appreciate if you'd stop showing up at random times Sherlock. It's bad enough I have nightmares about you."

Sherlock walked towards John and pressed the back of his hand softly to Johns forehead.

"Are you sick?"

John jumped and his hair stood on end.

"Sher-lock?"

"Yes John."

John clenched his hands until his knuckles turned white.

"Two years."

"Yes."

"No text, no call, no letter, no nothing for two years."

"Well yes I thought that was rather obvious John."

"Shut up."

Sherlock started at John stunned but kept quiet.

"You let me grieve. For two years you let me grieve. Do you know how many nightmares I've had of you, the bloody genius you are throwing yourself off the roof?!"

Sherlock went to place a hand on Johns shoulder but John stepped back to stop him.

"I visited your grave... every day. There wasn't a day where I looked at that grave and didn't think 'I wonder where I'd be if he were here'...Well I eventually stopped wondering. I eventually convinced myself you were dead."

"John I... I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it Sherlock!"

John breathed with staggered breaths until he turned on his heels and walked towards the doorway. Before he exited he swung his head and spoke in a soft tone.

"Why Sherlock?"

Why?
Why what? Why he had gone? Moriaty's men were spread out all over the world so it wasn't at all surprising that it took him so long. Why he hadn't told John? He talked too much, risks of not being dead could be easily spread...Why he had thrown himself off of Barts? That should have been fairly obvious.

He had done it to save his friends, and the only man who mattered the most.

His John.

John and Mary's flat

"I can't believe him! The nerve of that man to come back after two years of being 'dead'".

John paced through the room with closed fifts as Mary watched.

"You can't stay mad at him forever you know."

John stopped pacing and let out a shallow breath.

"No, you're right. I'm not letting that pshycopath get to me. Not with our wedding a coupke weeks away."

"Are you going to invite him by the way?

"No. I don't know. Maybe? How can I? He's been gone for two years he feels like a stranger."

"Oh you know that's not true. The way you talked about him, he sounds like a genius."

"Well he is a genius. A genius that threw himself off a building..."

John sat on the bed beside Mary and she grabbed his hands.

"He did it for you, you know."

"I know."