I'm not dead. Let's have dinner. - SH (Johnlock)

Disguised as a hipster student at Uni with big sunglasses, a beanie, a tighter than usual T-shirt and brightly colored skinnyjeans Sherlock pretended to work on his term paper sitting outside Speedy's. With his laptop open in-front of him he sipped his coffee supposedly in thought while he rifled through various textbooks and papers laid strewn across the table. Out of the corner of his eye he watched John sigh as he opened the door to 221 Baker St. Judging by the lock john had done a considerable amount of binge drinking since Sherlock left.

Today John, it all ends today.

Placing his coffee on the table he took out his cellphone and began to type out a text.

(OOC: By the way after around 3:30 I'll be pretty busy all day but I should be back before nine or ten. Looking forward to this though!)

((Ok.. Hey, do I know you are back, since this is post RBF?? I cant answer much if I don't know.))

(Your character doesn't know yet. I figured we could start with John being sad or something(completely up to you) and then Sherlock would text him and be like "TADA" only better and then we'd take it from there. This takes place right before the reunion scene. Which is why Sherlock is right outside their flat.

Edit: By the way I'll be on the rest of the night and most of tomorrow. Might take me a moment to realize you've posted as this place is fairly slow but once I see it I'll stay on for a bit.

alsoedit: The first sentence of this post was confusing I made it more clear.)

John unlocked the door to 221B, sighing when he realized for the hundredth time today: Sherlock wouldn't be there for his own birthday.

Dead! Gone! John's only friend threw himself off a building, after calling John and telling him he was a fake.

It hurt. It hurt terribly. John had started going to pubs near London to try to drink the memories away. He kept 221B though. So he knew he would never forget Sherlock. Ever. The way he looked at him. the look. God, he used to get so annoyed when Sherlock would give him the "we both know what's going on here" look, but now... He would kill to have Sherlock give him that look again.
Damn. Stop thinking about it. You'll get depressed again.

John went up to the flat and started to put the kettle on. Long day at work, as usual.

I'm not dead. Let's have dinner. It is my birthday afterall. -SH Sighing Sherlock put his phone away and decided to give John a few minutes to process what just happened.

((Sherlock's. Sorry.))

(yeah I got that now. I don't know why it confused me at first. Sorry. I responded above.)

(I figured we could do texts in bold and thoughts in italics. Just so I don't confuse them if that's okay with you.)

John got his cuppa and then went to sit in his armchair. A flood of memories swept over him, causing him to choke on his tea. He had always sat here, but in the old days Sherlock had sat across from him. Good days. Happy days.
John was pulled out of his sentimental moment by a buzzing in his pocket.
Who would text me? No one told me they would...

John's heart skipped a beat when he saw the name on the text. Sherlock Holmes. He quickly opened the text and read it.
I'm not dead. Lets have dinner. It is my birthday afterall. -SH

John was puzzled. Was this some sort of cruel joke? He had seen Sherlock fall, seen the blood, took his pulse. Suddenly he began to doubt himself. He sent a challanging text, just to see if it was Sherlock.
You are alive? Prove it. -JW

((Got it))

Sherlock smirked as he opened the text from John.

Predictable.

Getting up from chair he abandoned his now cold coffee and laptop Mycroft owes me a new one after the Berlin fiasco anyway. and went to change out of his disguise. The remains of it would be picked up by Mycroft's crew. He waited until he saw John's form reflected in the streetlamp move away from the window. His entrance had to be done properly afterall.

Walking up to a more than familiar door he jimmied the lock as his old key was lost to the Thames. He tread quietly up the stairs avoiding the loud seventh and thirteenth steps entirely. Standing directly outside his old doorway he said loud enough to be heard from the other side,

"I could break in but I believe I've made my point quite clear."

Leaning against the wall he awaited the inevitable.

John sat, brooding as he drank his tea. He thought he heard something, but he dispelled that thought as Mrs. Hudson coming home.
A voice from the door startled him. That voice! "Sher-" was all he got out as he opened the door just to see.........
...
A hipster kid with neon pants and a beanie?!?
"What are you doing here? How the hell did you get in? And how do you know Sherlock's voice so well?!?" He cried, spilling his tea.

Sherlock chuckled "Oh, come now John even you can't be that dense." Sherlock smiled sincerely for the first time in three years.

"I know it's a bit of a shock but I doubt some child in Uni could impersonate me that well." Sherlock chided as he pulled of his hat and glasses. His hair was shorter and much better groomed than it ever was when John knew him but it was still very much Sherlock Holmes standing in their doorway.

"You spilled your tea John, what would the Queen think?...and the pants were Mycroft's idea, said I didn't look authentic enough." Sherlock smirked.

Edit(OOC): added the part about Mycroft because that conversation would be priceless.

John knew some random kid from Uni couldn't impersonate Sherlock Holmes. But it was still a shock when the glasses came off to uncover the Consulting Detective.
"Oh my God." John said. "Is... is... is it... really you? Its not just some cruel joke? I'm not dreaming? And.. Those pants are blinding. Couldn't Mycroft come up with something better?"

((Ah... Oops, just reread your previous posts. Dangit. I just noticed it said you changed back into normal clothes. My reaction would have been immensely different. Sorry. And btw, will this end up with a smutty Johnlock? We never really decided.))

Sherlock shrugged. "Ask him. Oh, good you put the kettle on."

Eyeing the flat he realized how his time away had truely affected John. He clearly wasn't sleeping well and spent most nights out here judging by the sofa. He didn't want to think about all the broken glass.

Sherlock walked over to make himself a cuppa. While he waited for it to steep he took out a fresh pack of cigarettes and and tore the wrapper. Having already packed them earlier he placed one in-between his lips and dug for a lighter. John wasn't the only one learning to cope in unhealthy ways during their separation.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. He didn't know why he thought John would suddenly realize how he felt about him. Perhaps it was because John was the only true constant in the past few years. Different names, different lives, different everything from one moment to the next. Day after day always tracking and planning he never really had time to think about John. But, it was always this nagging sensation in the back of his mind that John would be the thing that was different when he returned.

That John would know. Maybe feel the same even...

Idiot.

(It' cool I kind of thought it was funny that Sherlock was still in neon colored pants (although I suppose we should call them trousers) anyway. And I don't know about smut. At least not yet I think they have some stuff to work out first especially since they haven't talked about their relationship or even acknowledged it yet. I'd be willing to try it when it comes up though.)

(oh, and he's calling himself an idiot in the last post. don't know if that was clear.)

"Uh. Ok... I will. And yeah, I put it on before you texted." John suddenly felt very light-headed. He stumbled to the couch and sat down. What is wrong with me?
"Um. So what brings you back? What did you do for three years? And why have you restarted your smoking habit?" Asked John, fully intending to stand up and pull the cigarette out of his friend's mouth and throw it away, but he didn't quite make it. He got halfway to Sherlock, but then the world swirled around him and all went black.

((Either he is very overwhelmed, or he has drank too much. You decide, I have to go to bed. See you after school gets out!))

"Uh. Ok... I will. And yeah, I put it on before you texted."

"hmmm." Sherlock nodded noncommittally. However, upon noticing his friend stumble his eyebrows furrowed with concern. Tea forgotten he turned to look directly at John.

"Are you alright?" John didn't seem to hear him. He just kept talking.

"Um. So what brings you back? What did you do for three years? And why have you restarted your smoking habit?"

He was slurring his words. Why was he slurring? He was fine just a minute ago and he obviously hadn't had a drink since last night judging by the dehydration and obvious hangover.

"Moriarty's dead, taking him down and the same reason you're drinking" the word were rushed into one. Realizing John was trying to get off the couch when he was clearly unable probably to confiscate my cigarettes. Doesn't even know what he's doing to himself, damn him Sherlock tried to stop him.

"But, John you need to calm down. You're in-"

"John!" Sherlock exclaimed as he saw John's eyes roll back into his head. The unlit cigarette fell from his mouth as he rushed to catch his friend. Cradling John's head in his lap on the kitchen floor Sherlock asked "Can you hear me? You've fainted."

(OOC: By the way as far as smut goes I'd rather not. I don't mind them making out or sending dirty texts or something but as far as real smut goes I'd rather skip over it. (It obviously still happens to them though. I imagine them being fairly sexually active once everything's all sorted.))

((Agreed. I don't really know how to write stuff like that anyway.))

ohn was in a swirling vortex of images. Memories. He knew every one of them, but some he recognized as foreign to his mind. A voice that resounded through his brain. Sherlock's voice. He moved towards it, every step bringing him closer to wakefulness.

He opened his eyes and squinted, finding even the low kitchen light harsh. "God, I'm sorry. I just... God, you're back, alive, here, with me. I'm sorry, I just got a little wound up." John mumbled as he sat up. The world was still a bit tipsy, but he would be fine.
Ack! Stop the spinning world ride, I want to get off! John thought drowsily.[/i]

(Cool. Me neither.)

Seeing as John was coherent again Sherlock poured him a cup of tea, but left it on the counter. Might not be well enough to keep the mug steady. Helping him up and over to the couch he brought them both tea. Setting it out the table beside them he patted John on the back. "Alright?" He shifted awkwardly on the couch, not quite knowing what to do with himself. He wasn't used to comforting others.

John sat on the couch, a teensy bit embarrassed at his faint. "Thanks." John said to Sherlock as he brought tea over. "Yeah, I'm alright. Just tired and very overwhelmed. So. Um. What do you plan to do... Since you're... back." Asked John as he felt Sherlock pat him on the back.
How unusual... He doesn't usually comfort people. Well, I'm certainly not complaining

(( when I was reading the part when you said John's eyes rolled to the back of his head, I saw Professor Quirrel in the Philosopher's Stone. When Harry has just touched his face and he starts to crumble, but he is still reaching out for Harry... Haha... I never thought of it like that before you wrote your post...))

((Its sad my ooc is longer than most of my posts.))

Realizing John noticed his unorthodox behavior Sherlock blushed slightly. Withdrawing his hand from John he began to rub the back of his neck. "I'm-ah-I'm not entirely sure...return to normal I suppose."

More than normal. Much more.

Regaining his composure he returned to his original offer of 'getting dinner' "Considering your current state Angelo's is out..." quirking an eyebrow and sporting a half-smile he asked "Chinese?" His pocket buzzed. Frowning he pulled out his phone an opened a text from an unknown number.

Come now, dear brother that's no way to spend a first date. -M

Piss off, Mycroft. -SH

Such language, mummie would never approve. -M

Mummie died eight years ago; I hardly think she can object. -SH

Rolling his eyes he sent the message and opened his contact list to the chinese place on the corner. John's favorite. All traces of emotion evaporating from his face he said in his usual slightly abrupt manner "If you don't want it tonight heat it up tomorrow. I'm absolutely starving for once."


(Sorry it took me a hundred years to respond I didn't notice you posted. and it's cool don't worry about it. Yeah I've fainted quite a lot actually because I have a really high metabolism so when I was younger if I didn't eat right when I got up or took a really hot shower first thing I'd faint. When I fainted everything went white it was really weird. I guess it's cause you don't actually pass out so it doesn't go black I dunno maybe it was just me. It was super annoying. And I also saw a girl faint in the stairwell once. She legit fell flat on her back. Totally fine though. lol Sorry super long tangent there.)

(OOC: Sorry I just love meddling Mycroft. I'm hoping he just like pops in for tea or something. OH when they start dating he should totally kidnap John and give him a "You uck with my brother I'll fuck with you." talk only more british. That would be fun.)