Not One of the Angels Anymore

Everything's changed

As they locked eyes again John Watson couldn't believe the sight in front of him. Sherlock Holmes, once his best friend now just a stranger, was standing in front of him. As his own eyes were the reflection of anger his however were cold, distant, completely uncaring, as though their past friendship had long been forgotten. He stared back at him, studying, examining how the years had taken their toll on him. For a moment he had even forgotten what the man had done to him, what he'd cost him. He'd cost him the love of his life, and now he just stared back at him, unmoving, like he didn't remember a thing.

"What are you doing here?" John asked through gritted teeth.

No answer.

"I asked, what are you doing here?" John asked again, trying to keep his voice even and not let his temper show.

Sherlock only slightly tilted his head to the side. Examining the outcome this situation could have.

"Answer me you bloody idiot!" John yelled at him, not caring what his answer would be anymore.

But again, the younger Holmes only stared back with him. His expression that of cold stone.

"That's it." John muttered under his breath and then charged at him. Sherlock Holmes may be trained in many fighting techniques, but he hadn't had years of military training.

However John was surprised, when Sherlock didn't move at first, only jumping out of the way at the last second, letting him hit the garbage cans without a warning.

John rubbed his head in annoyance to the unexpected defeat, but he nonetheless got up again and was prepared to charge when he finally spoke "You've gotten slow."

He immediately halted and just stared. "What?" He asked though he heard exactly what the consulting detective had said.

"You. have. gotten. slow." He repeated, punctuating every word.

"Is that all you have to say you git? After all these years?" John growled at him.

"Oh I could say many things, but I don't think you'd want to hear them." Sherlock said, with an all-too-familiar twinkle in his eyes and a smirk decorating his features.

"Hear what? There's nothing that would astonish me about you. I know you." John said matter of factly.

"You used to know me. You don't anymore." Sherlock said coldly.

"Oh really? I don't see anything that's changed about you since our last meeting." John retorted.

"Either you're just stupid or your deductive skills are worse than I imagined." Sherlock said seriously.

"Amuse me then, what has changed?" John finally asked, voice full of annoyance.

"Everything." The other man answered with a smirk.

And just like that, out of some darkened corner came to view none other than Irene Adler. Looking as though time couldn't touch her or the man standing next to her.

"My, my, my isn't this a pleasant surprise. John Watson, I never thought I'd see your face around this part of London." Irene smirked, holding onto the man on her left.

"What are you doing here? And why are you with him?" John asked, confused, but not any less angry than before.

"My, my, you really are a dumb one if you can't figure out this simple, little, tiny thing." She said, her face never loosing the smirk.

"What is going on here?" John asked, now simply irritated.

Sherlock exhaled sharply, then asked "Do I need to spell it out for you, Doctor?" Though the sentence sounded more like an order and less a question. Especially because he spat the last word, making it sound like some sort of disease.