John Watson and the Sociopath

Chapter 7

Sometimes my heart still breaks when I think about how I hurt him. I left John, my best friend, to believe me dead. I could never tell him what I really did during those three years; he would be so angry.

I drank.

I drank myself into oblivion, until all I could do was sit and cry. On more than one occasion, Mycroft sent Anthea to take me back to Molly's. I was staying there until I could knock out every remaining strand of Moriarty's web. After he died, many of his minions, ones he had created a new life for, became very angry. I don't think any of them considered John, but still I could never let it happen.

A few months after I "died," John came to my grave with Mrs. Hudson. She talked about how angry she was, but I could deduce that she was trying not to fall apart for his sake. Then she left, and John was alone. I seriously considered stepping out, pretending to be an angel, ghost, anything. But I knew It would be too soon to return.

That was the first time in nineteen years that I cried.

He said things like I was a good man, that he owed me... Typical stuff. And then he said, "Sherlock, please... One more miracle, don't be... Dead... Just stop this, stop all of this."

And then he cried. No one had ever cried for me, not even Mycroft. That was when I knew.

I knew that when I returned, I could never leave again. I knew I had to find a way for me and John to be together. I knew how much he meant to me.

And I knew I was in love with a beautiful army doctor.