I am not dead, are you? (SherlockXMoriarty PostRBF)

Sherlock frowned, he knew he had to tell John the truth, even though he didn't wish to find excuses for his awful deductions. John deserved the truth, just so he could understand everything that had happened, everything that was happening now.

"The reason I had to fake my death, John, was that Jim- Moriarty, Moriarty had snipers-" he felt his voice shake, he couldn't believe he was talking about Jim, about the person that was now his lover.

"He had snipers ready to kill you, he had three targets, you, Mrs Hudson, and Lestrade... you see now, John? It had to be me... I had to be gone... and it had to be real, otherwise they would have killed you anyway..."

His fingers wrapped around John's wrist, his touch delicate but shaken with emotion. "I didn't want to leave, God knows I have missed you every single day until-" he stopped, frowning. Until Jim came around.

"I have been away, to try and dismantle Moriarty's organization... I've done a lot... I did... but even now getting sighted in London might alert the cells I still haven't found..." he confessed, bowing his head. "I really thought I was doing the right thing... I am sorry John..."

John had started crying a long the way. He could not believe that Sherlock gave up his own pride in order to save one another. He was touched and felt a warm feeling of peace wash over him. This had not been a selfish action, one of many that Sherlock pulled on, no this was different, this was real.

"Oh god." He murmured. "Jesus, Sherlock..." but he lacked any other words as he felt the other's hand wrap around his wrist. It felt strange but ever so good.

John swallowed loud and cleared his throat once more. "I missed you so much." He started, voice lowered and raw. "I got lost along the way. Without you, I couldn't give meaning to anything. I could not get you out of my mind Sherlock. I'm a failure, I'm sorry I failed." John'd emotion broke lose and he tried to fight off the tears. "I missed you. Every minute, every hour, week, year." He sniffed. There were so many different things he wanted Sherlock to know, more then words could even show him.

"And what about him then? Moriarty?" John asked eventually, his tone turning cold as he mention the enemy's name.

((Oh John >< wrong question >> XDD))

Sherlock could feel the anger in John's voice fading, there was just hurt left, this overwhelming horrible pain he had caused his best friend, and he had no idea how to deal with it, he felt his own eyes fill with tears.
God, he had never cried so much like in this week. First Jim, now John, it was driving him crazy, his heart had no idea how to deal with this.

"I put you through this... I am to blame John... and I am so sorry..." he apologized again, leaning on the other's chest, burying his face in the linens. "And I am so sorry I am late... I had no idea this was happening to you... I should have been there... by your side..."

He swallowed hard at the last question, his ears ringing painfully. What was he to reply to that?
"I've met him again. Recently. He... he promised he wasn't going to hurt you any more..." he lied, even though Jim had said something vaguely similar. He couldn't help but wonder whether he was being a fool.

(( He had to!! I find it difficult to play him in this situation, but I'm trying my best. ))

John once more was taken by surprise as Sherlock threw himself on him. Though, he could not deny that it felt good. Really good actually. His hand reached up and stroked through his best friend's long dark curls. "Shhh. I'll be fine. You're back." He said and for a moment he felt weightless. Sherlock was back, nothing could hurt him now. Nothing?

The happy warm feeling got overwhelmed by a heavy angry one, heating up his chest area. His hand slowly moved away from Sherlock's hair and he did not want the detective on him like that anymore.
"What?" He said sharp, raising his eyebrows. "I've been dying a little more every day. I've gone through all of this and you? You went out for a cuppa tea with Moriarty to discuss my matters?" He snapped. He did not recognize the man in front him anymore. He first gave his own life, sort of, to then go and have a nice chat with his enemy? The one that wanted him dead? "Why didn't you shot him? If he'd been standing right in front of you Sherlock, why didn't you kill him? You're taking down his network but accidentally forgot to take down the main engine?" John's face looking puzzled, he could not wrap his thoughts around this. Somehow he got the feeling things were much more complicated. He never really understood why Sherlock had always let this man lived. He had been given so many chances, yet he never did it. Especially now, after all that Moriarty had put both of them through...

((gjrehnjgr? You find it difficult? You are doing great!! As always ^^ *hugs* You always amaze me! ))

Sherlock didn't have the time to take in the soft touches to his hair that they stopped, John's voice a bundle of anger and he had to pull away, sitting up to look at him.
Of course John would react like that.
It was the mirror of his own reaction at the beginning when Jim had tried to get close.

He had not meant to tell him so soon though.

"Moriarty is not a menace any more," he muttered, his voice shaking slightly, he prayed John would calm down, he prayed John wouldn't ask an explanation.

"You need to calm down John, you need to rest, let's think about getting you healthy again, and then I will tell you everything, I promise," he said, even though he wasn't sure he could keep it.

(( Awww! Thank you. <3 But yes, I indeed find it very difficult haha.))

John was shaking, he had no idea why but he was. "I am perfectly calm." He yelled as he tried to sit up more straight, but failing at it. "I am calm." He once more said, this time his the volume was dimmed, though you could still hear the anger coming through.

What was Sherlock on about? First saying he hadn't kill Moriarty and now he's claiming he's no menace anymore. Perhaps he'd manage to defeat him, to silence him with whatever information or threat he'd come up with. "So you did take him down than?" He said confused. When in a normal state of mind he'd always found it difficult to follow Sherlock's mind twists. But when ill and weak, everything was even harder.

Sherlock promised him. That meant he'd stay, he would not go any time soon. Another weight fell off his shoulder and he inhaled deep a few times. The emotions, tension and stress were taking their toll on his still weak body.

--

Just outside the hospital door James was leaning against the corridor wall. He had been there all the time, though he could not hear a word the two were saying inside. One thing he did hear: John screaming out he was calm. It made him wonder what Sherlock had told him...

Sherlock gasped when John tried to sit up, instincts moving quicker than his mind, he stood closer, trying to keep him down.
His eyes turned dark, his hands settling on his shoulders.
"John, you are weak, you have to stay still," he ordered, his eyes intent on the other's face.

"We'll talk about everything in due time, okay?" he muttered and cupped his cheek, making him look at him. "Let's concentrate on your recovery now... we need to get you back on your feet..." he felt his eyes water again.
"John I can't believe you did this... why John? I really thought you could be happy without me..." he whispered, his eyes restless on the other's face.

John had to agree with Sherlock. There wasn't anything else he could do. Sherlock wasn't going to tell him what was going on at this point. "Okay." He just nodded.

It wasn't until Sherlock cupped his face that he noticed how close Sherlock actually was. Their eyes locked and the water filling Sherlock's eyes was undeniable. John swallowed loud. He regretted what he did at this very moment.

"I tried to be happy Sherlock." He began, leaning in to the hand on his cheek. His voice very soft. "But I just felt so empty all of the time." John sighed, thinking back at the past 3 years and how dark they had been. "There was this shadow hanging over me. Nightmares hunting me every night. Your voice, visions..." He started crying while he was explaining everything. "I missed you so terrible." He said, his voice sounding higher because of him being emotional. "I looked for you everywhere. When the phone rang I hoped it was you. When I heard someone at the door, your face came to my mind. I even started walking with a stick again." Heavy words kept falling from his lips, the first time ever he could let this out, it felt so relieving. " I saw no way out anymore, sherlock. I was exhausted, I was broken. I was alone and empty. I had nothing to look up to, nothing to keep me going. You were...you are my life. My everything. Sherlock. I am so sorry for disappointing you. I am weak, I am useless, but I need you. Please, don't ever leave again. Please." His wet, red eyes had kept locked on the other's the whole time.

"Don't say that, you aren't weak, you aren't useless, you didn't disappoint me, John, I understand, I'm here regardless, there is nothing that could ever change this, I am not angry," he mumbled, his voice shaking, trying to be reassuring, his heart clenching in pain, he knew he couldn't leave John, he couldn't possibly leave him to himself. John needed him.
But what about Jim? He needed Jim.

"The only thing that was driving me on, John, it was the knowledge that I had to protect you... and I was so sure you would be okay, I thought that coming back would only upset you... and I didn't want that..." he confessed, for a long time he had doubted it was a good idea to go back even after being done with Moriarty's organization.

"You can't do it again, you can't ever do it again, John. You have to get better now," he said, his thumbs stroking his cheeks. "I had no idea... this... it's all my fault... I should have considered all the options, I made my research, statistics said people with a dead friend took 1 to 2 years to recover, I trusted those data," he grimaced at his own stupidity.
Of course statistics didn't apply to them.

John kept crying while he listened to the words of reassurance. It managed to calm him down just a little. Regret was tearing his heart out, why did he had to be so god damn weak? He had seen people dying before. Even friends, good friend! Why did this effect him so much? John had never realized how strong his feeling for Sherlock were, until he had been gone.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered, lost for other words. "Sherlock, I am so sorry." He lifted his own hand and placed it over the one lying on his cheek. Somehow he still could not believe his best friend came back. Touching him though, was the best evidence he could get. And it felt so good to touch...

John couldn't help but smile slightly. How typical of Sherlock to believe something written in some scientific magazine. Or even written in hospital notes. There's always an exception, even John knew some. And seeing their history together, they /always/ were that exception.

"You're just an idiot." He joked, still holding Sherlock's hand. "Don't worry. I'll get better. Hell, things will be better then they ever were now you're back."

Sherlock smiled slightly when John cupped his hand, finally the doctor was actually reacting to this, he was already on his way to getting better.
Even though it seemed John was counting on his staying, something that he couldn't really promise.
Things were never going to be the same.
He had changed.
And he had Jim now.

The priority at the moment was John's well-being though, it was Sherlock's responsibility and it was going to be his mission.
He was sure at the moment that when John would get back on his feet, he'd find himself a good girl to marry, and then maybe he wouldn't be so much opposed to Sherlock moving away again.

He was snatched away from his thoughts when he felt the insult, he frowned and then pouted. "Hey!" he protested, and then laughed a bit. "Now I recognize you," he teased him, slowly moving his hand away.
"I am counting on you to get better in no time, you have to do that for me... and maybe in exchange I will try not to meddle too much in your dates," he joked, winking at John.

John laughed slightly, it all felt so familiar. As if nothing ever happened. His hand let go of Sherlock's, even though he wouldn't mind holding it a bit longer. Playfully he nudged Sherlock's shoulder. "Dates?" He laughed the word off. "Won't have much time for those. If we're picking up the business, taking cases, moving back to Baker Street." And now hope and happiness were audible in his tone. He was already looking forward to having his old life back. It made him all warm on the inside.

"I can't wait to see Lestrades face when he hears this." He said, imagining the inspector's face. He would be pissed, but he would also be relieved and happy Sherlock was back. Scotland Yard had never been the same ever since he had been gone.


((Hhaha. Poor Sherlock. But little does John know!))

"It never stopped you before, John," he pointed out, remembering how jealous he had been back then. It was when he had realized he loved John more than friends would do.

The plans John was putting forwards though, they were bounding Sherlock and he knew there wasn't much of that that he could actually do. "My reputation is still in shatters John, I doubt I can go back to my old job..." he whispered and kneaded John's shoulder a bit. "But we'll see what we can do... first we have to think about your health... I am staying in a hotel... I take it you moved out of Baker street?"

John was living in the past, he realized, he had done the same for so long.

John didn't really let Sherlock's words come through. He was already picturing the rest of his life. No more Moriarty, just him and Sherlock trying to put back together the shattered pieces. "We'll fix it. We'll sell out Moriarty, tell the papers how he made you do this. They will take this. It's sentimental, Sherlock. You always told me it was easy to manipulate people with sentiment." His eyes still flickered with hope.

"I did move out." He nodded slightly. "But I kept the place. Mrs.Hudson understood." He shrugged. He had never been able to step inside the flat again, though he had never been able to get rid of it either. "You don't need to stay in an hotel. Mycroft could fix you an extra room or bed here. Though the food might not be as good." He joked with the last comment, but was dead serious about having Sherlock staying over here. There was no need in being apart ever again. "Right?" He tried to look for any kind of agreement from Sherlock's side.

--

Outside in the corridor James was becoming impatient. Sherlock had been in there for oh so long and he had no idea what was going on. The only thing he had heard was John screaming he was calm but James could fit it into so many situations. He was now pacing back and forth, his face looking down at his own feet. Come on Sherlock, before I run in there myself...

"I haven't told Mycroft I am back, you are the only one who knows... other than Molly," he muttered, his eyes moving on his friend's face, he could see the hope in his expression and the last thing he wanted was to break that hope. He needed to bring John back to earth though, certain things they just couldn't do.

"Let's take things slowly, John... I... already paid for the hotel and I have a few things to do..." he admitted, keeping his hand on him, trying to sound as reassuring as he could.

John was being impulsive, as usual, but he couldn't possibly think it'd be that easy! "I am not sure about the papers, we have to act subtly John, there are parts of Moriarty's organization that are still active, and we would become a target very quickly... we can't have that considering you aren't well yet..."

He needed to go, he realized, Jim was waiting for him and he wanted nothing but burying himself in the other's arms, letting go of the tension John's expectations were putting on him.

"Molly?" John repeated, feeling a bit let down by her now. She knew all along, she had visit him a lot, she knew he wasn't okay. But at this moment he couldn't blame her. If it wasn't for her, Sherlock would probably not be sitting on the edge of his bed.

John nodded. He understood Sherlock was being worried about his condition at the moment. His hand stretched out, taking the IV line with them, and rested on Sherlock's shoulder. His one hand nearly touching the back of his friend's neck. It felt so good being able to touch him like this, just being able to know he was sitting there. "I understand." He said, still nodding.

"Slow doesn't really sound like something you'd do. But you're the genius, I trust you." He admitted. Sherlock was never wrong, so if he thought taking things slow would be the right way, John would blindly follow. He figured the things Sherlock had to do were informing his brother and therefor trying to make him fraud his paperwork again. After all he was still reported dead and that needed to change.

"I needed Molly's help to fake my death... she was the only one who never got targeted by Moriarty..." he explained, the tension clear in his voice.

Sherlock felt himself smile in relief when John said he understood. Thank God. He was starting to run out of ideas to keep him calm.
He leaned just slightly towards the touch, he realized he needed reassurance as well.

John was here, he was still alive.
"I just want you to be okay, John," he said, sighing slightly.

"I don't like slow, but sometimes it's the only way to go," he said with a grin, the trust John put on him made him feel slightly guilty, because he knew he had done things John would not approve of.
He had John's well-being in mind now though, so he wasn't going to despair.

"I'll get better as fast as possible." He promised Sherlock while his hands pulled him closer onto his chest again. He did not care about Sherlock not liking these kind of things. To him it meant a lot. A simple hug, the simple thought of being able to do this.

"God, I'm so happy you're here." He admitted, tears coming back to his eyes. He might have sherlock back, but he suffered 3 years of depression and one hour was not going to be able to get him out of his mentally unstable state.

Sherlock knew it was going to be difficult, that three years couldn't be undone in a few hours, his only hope was that the process wouldn't involve losing Jim. He didn't want that.

He laughed a bit as he was pulled closer, John was always so impulsive, the hug would have made him uncomfortable a few months before, now touches weren't unfamiliar any more and he welcomed his friend's warmth, wrapping his arms around his neck.

"I am happy to see you again, John, even though the circumstances..." He muttered, emotion thick in his voice.

John closed his eyes, letting the tears come out, taking in the warmth of Sherlock's body. At the moment he was lost for words, he still felt the need to apologies, to make up for any kind of pain he made Sherlock feel. Sherlock did feel pain? Did he? He at least know the man cared and he had came back just for him.

A weak smile formed on his lips as Sherlock spoke. He indeed hoped to see him in a different light, but there wasn't anything they could change about that now.

--

How much longer did James had to wait? It was taking him every bit of self control to hold back from storming in that room.

Sherlock slowly pulled away from the embrace, his hand caressing the other's hair for a moment. "You should rest now... I will be back tomorrow and we can talk more, I know you like to talk," he said with a smirk.

"I will arrange something for when you get discharged..." He brushed the tears away again. "Don't cry for me John, I am not worth your tears..." He whispered, biting on his lower lip.

John agreed on the fact he needed some rest, though he had thought Sherlock would be back sometime later this day.

His heartbeat raised, clearly visible and audible on the monitor next to John's bed. He had started panting and sweating heavily. "It's okay." He managed to bring out. By now he was getting used to these so called anxiety attacks. The thought of Sherlock leaving him alone was too much. His unstable mind could not place it in the right perspective's just yet.

The beeps of the monitor made Sherlock panic, he didn't let it show on his face, but his heart was beating suddenly just as fast. "Would you prefer I come back later?" he asked, and grabbed the other's hand, he needed John to realize he was with him now.

"I will stay until you fall asleep, how about that?" he continued, trying to tell himself he needed to be the first to calm down if he wanted John to get better.
He had no idea how to deal with this.
True, he had been on the verge of a similar crisis himself, but it had never gotten this bad, it was like John's body got in control of his mind.

((I sent you a pm >>))

John was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down from his face. "I.. I'm alright." He said once more, but clearly he wasn't. This happened before, at night it would wake him up. It happened in public, it happened anytime it felt like happening. John had no control over it, his therapist said it was normal, a sort of respond of his body to adjust to the crucial differences in his life.

"Sherlock." His hands gripped really tight around his friend's wrist, once more he was unaware of that fact. "It's ok. Go if you need to." John inhaled deep before exhaling, repeated in a fast pace on the edge of hyperventilating.

Sherlock felt he wanted to cry.
He had broken John.
John was the strong one, John was the one who knew how to deal with feelings, Sherlock knew nothing at all, and he had destroyed his friend, his first love, it was all his fault.

He had to do something though, he had to be strong, because otherwise they would both spiral out of control.

He leaned closer to John, pressing their foreheads together, looking at him, his grey eyes intense.
"Look at me John," he whispered, his hand moving to cup the one that was squeezing his wrist painfully.

"I am here... and I will stay until you go to sleep... and I will be here again when you wake up... I am here, John... for you..."