"I need a Doctor" Post RBF Return -Sherlock/John

“I need a Doctor, to bring me back to life” Post Reichenbach, Sherlock's Return home.

Sherlock Homes was sitting in a cafe in a disguise consisting of a tatty, old, blue boiler suit, a workman's fluorescent yellow vest, a black bobble hat jammed down over his ears and glasses. He was thinner than usual and under a tan his skin was a grey white.

Although nobody in the cafe saw it Sherlock was in a state of nervous tension. He had spent nearly 2 years chasing Moriarty's minions and bringing them to justice. Now, at last, he could go home. The source of his tension was that he wasn't even sure if going home was going to be possible. He didn't know what sort of reception he would get from John.

Sherlock had hidden a tiny monitor at the foot of “his” gravestone and had heard in his earpiece John saying that no-one could ever convince him that Sherlock had lied. John had asked him for a miracle “Don't be dead”. Sherlock wanted to make that miracle happen. He just didn't know if John would still wanted that.

There were so many things that had never been said and he still wouldn't say any of them if they might embarrass or upset John. Sherlock needed a certain Retired Army Doctor to bring him back to life but he would settle for whatever was possible.

Sherlock pulled out his phone and flipped through his contacts for Mycroft's number

He texted “Are you certain that John is at work and my violin and bow were delivered to Baker Street?” -SH

A minute later he received a text alert.

The text read “Of course.” -MH

Sherlock, carrying a sealed cardboard box of his own clothes to change into, stepped outside the cafe to hail a cab. Sherlock raised his arm and waved at a taxi. The cab pulled up and as he instructed the driver “221B Baker Street, please” a small lopsided smile momentarily twitched on his lips.



(Mrs Hudson if you are here please open the front door when the bell rings, if the bell works

((I can be Mrs. H while John is "at work" ;D ))

((Great, it'll get us going, I am hoping to get Mrs Hudson on board for a bit.))

The cab pulled into the kerb, Sherlock paid the driver and then stood for a moment outside his old flat door before ringing the bell. He waited then heard Mrs Hudson's familiar footsteps, her hip was playing her up obviously.

"Oh yes, that was terrible wasn't it? Oh! Did you here about- yes! I know, terrible!" Said Mrs. Hudson as Mrs. Turner went on about all the neighbourhood gossip. She loved talking to Mrs. Turner, but she had things to do, you know! She wasn't getting any younger and she also had her boys- well... just John now... to take care of!
"Oh, sorry love." Appologized Mrs. H when the doorbell rang, "I'll be right back!" As Mrs. Hudson walked down the hall toward the door, she let out a sigh of relief. Silence!

The doorbell rang again as she limped a tiny bit towards the door. "Coming, coming, wait one moment!"
She opened the door and smiled, not sure what to think of the strange man with the box. His hat was pulled down over his face, which prevented her from seeing it.
"Hello, how might I help you, sir?" She asked sweetly.

Sherlock leaned into the part open door "Gloria Scott" he whispered in a low voice, a prearranged code word, he smiled. It was wonderful to see her again."Is John in"? He slid in and closed the door behind himself with a practised kick.

"Oh! Of course! Come in, before you are recognized! John is still at work but he'll be home any minute now. Hurry upstairs and get situated so you can surprise him. Wait! I need a hug- come 'ere! Ok, I'll be downstairs if you need me. We'll talk over some tea later, ok? Alright. I'll yell when John comes. See you in a little bit, love." Cried Mrs. Hudson as she shooed Sherlock upstairs. Right as Sherlock was out of sight, Mrs. Turner came in to the hall.

"Who was that?" She asked

"Oh, just one of those door to door salesmen."

"Oh. Ok. Would you like some tea, dear?"

"Sure, that would be lovely." Mrs. H replied as she ushered Mrs. Turner inside.

"Ohh Mrs Hudson you are wonderful.Is he ok? I'll tell you everything later". He grabs the two boxes, plants a kiss on her forehead and gives her another hug. "Tea later Brilliant"





((and I'm clocking off until tomorrow, bfn))

Sherlock took both boxes into the kitchen and noted that the flat was similar to how he had last seen it. It was much tidier although there was a days dishes on the draining board and one plate in the bowl. Cereal and take-away, Chinese. The flat no longer smelled of chemicals. It smelled of John mingled with a faint aroma of Earl Gray tea and digestive biscuits. As he looked around Sherlock stripped and then pulled on a pair of tight black jeans and a crisp, new, very pale blue shirt. He wished he had time for a shower but it couldn't be helped.

Slinging the workman's clothing in the larger box he bent down and gently removed his old violin from the small box. His mind was racing and he wanted to calm it. He tuned the Stradivarius. Staying away from the two tall windows he began playing a slow melody of a few choice notes that rose and fell and repeated. He waited for John.

John was bored. Very bored. Every day was the same. There were no cases to keep his mind occupied, no Sherlock to annoy him in the way only he could.

Finally! Time to go home Thought John as the clock struck 5:15. He gathered up his things and headed out the door. In the lobby was Sarah, just on her way out too.
"Hello Sarah."
"Hello John."
That was all that was said. There had been no affection between them for years. Just colleagues now. But John didn't mind.

John called a cab and told him the address. For a moment, he felt a flow of excitement, only to have it quickly cut off by the reality that no one was waiting for him at home. Not anymore.

After some time Sherlock felt considerably calmer and was only disturbed from coaxing music from his violin when he heard a key in the front door.

Mrs Hudson poked her head out of her door. "Oooh John, John, you have a visitor, a surprise, I've got something nice for your tea, shout when you are ready for it, won't you"

John payed the cabbie and started to unlock the door to 221b. "Oh! Um.. Hello Mrs. Hudson. A surprise? What type? I'm not really up to a surprise." Said John as Mrs. Hudson hurried him up the stairs. "Um.. tea. Ok." He muttered as she rushed off.

Surprises. Why a surprise?

John suddenly realized that there was the soft sound of a violin floating from the flat. Sherlock's violin. Only Sherlock could produce that mournful yet bright melody. In a trance of sorts, John climbed the stair and opened the door. There. Standing in the living room, was Sherlock. He was playing his beautifully crafted instrument and gazing at John.

"Hello, John."

John was speachless. Was this real? Was this a dream? And if it was, in fact, a dream, why did it feel so real?

John walked around Sherlock, examining him, questioning whether this was reality.

"Is that you? Is this real? Tell me it is true, that I am not dreaming, for if I am... this is a cruel dream."

((....... sorry, my John just went really far back in the past... I'm listening to Eragon on tape. Midevil stuff... wow))

Sherlock turned round and placed his instrument on his old chair. He stood, allowing John to get his head round the situation. "Yes, it is me, well it was when I last looked, yes, it's real, and surreal, remove the impossible and the improbable and what you have deduced is the truth, No, it's not a Baskerville sort of dream. It's very good to see you.

"Oh god, you don't look too good I'll get you a cup of tea".

((You're fine but am I doing this right?))

John was floored. This was not a dream. Sherlock was back, really back. Alive, "back from the dead. John now seemed to be a bit light-headed.

"Well. Um. Good. Ok... I bet I still look a whole bunch better than you did when you... yeah. Tea would be great." Said John as he wobbled to the couch.



((You are doing fine, I think! I'm always a bit anxious about my writing. Totally normal.))

"never quite dead, although officially I don't exist. Hmm I'm not surprised that you are dizzy walking round in a circle like that". He bounced to the kitchen and investigated the fridge for milk. "Ah". The kettle was in the same place, the teabags and cups. One cuppa coming up. I'm sorry that you had to ... Barts.....it was necessary". His face became strained and he was glad that his back was to John.

He made the tea and took it in to John on the couch. "There, you go"

"Thank you" said John as he accepted his tea, "... so... How did you do it. You know. Fake it..." asked John awkwardly. Sherlock's return had overwhelmed him with mixed feelings and he didn't know what to talk about.

Sherlock had dreaded this moment, it was bound to upset John. It would no doubt upset himself too to recall it. He still had flashbacks. For all his trust in John not to judge him and find him lacking he couldn't bear to look vulnerable in front of John. "I don't know where to start" he said quietly. He moved his violin onto the table and sat down. He went still in that abstracted way of his when he shut down his emotions.

"I arranged it with people whose names I cannot mention, we are not out of the woods yet John, I can't put anyone in danger. Mycroft helped. Moriarty had snipers on you and Mrs Hudson and Lestrade, at least that is what he said, and I couldn't risk calling his bluff on that...." Sherlock gulped, his mouth had gone dry. He took another deep breath in. "I nearly had to jump without a safety net, there. He could see the image of John standing there looking very small, reaching out with his arm to him 70 feet below. "I, I.... sorry" he sprang out of his chair and didn't know where to go to but his bedroom.

((Is all his stuff still in his bedroom?))

Sherlock sat on the centre of his bed with his hands on his knees, it didn't halt the trembling. He wasn't sure what emotion or mix of them that he was experiencing. He didn't like trembling because it signalled that he wasn't fully in control of himself. His breathing came rapidly and was shallow.

“Damn it” he swore in frustration.

He sat there with his face burning, angry with himself. He took a deep breath in, held it and sighed. It was safer for people if he worked on his own and if he didn't have feelings for anyone. He regretted involving John and not seeing this coming.

Sherlock took in a lung full of air. “John?” his voice was deep and cracked.

John listened as Sherlock described vaguely what had happened. Funnily enough, John did not feel much emotion. He was blank. A fresh slate with only two things discolouring it. Guilt. Guilt and Appreciation. If he hadn't been there, Moriarty couldn't have put a sniper on him (it wasn't true, but it lightened the load a bit for.John.))... And the fact that Sherlock risked everything he had, and was willing to have it taken away just to save John? Unfathomable.

John was surprised when suddenly Sherlock leaped up and fled to his room. As John sat there for a moment trying to figure out what to do and what was wrong, he heard Sherlock call out a soft, cracking voice: "John?"
John strode to the room to see sherlock curled into a ball.

"Sherlock? Are you alright? I... what's wrong?" Asked John softly in a soothing tone. Hesat on the edge of the bed, wondering what to do. John patted Sherlock's shoulder in a reassuring manner, sort of awkwardly, because he didn't know if it was the right action to make.

Sherlock relaxed under his friend's touch. "I'll be fine" his lips twitched into a wan little smile. There was water in his eyes. "we'll be fine". Sherlock put his legs over the edge of the bed to sit beside John.

Sherlock patted John's knee a couple of times and it lingered there for a moment. He resisted the urge to demonstrate his feelings in a more obvious way. Maybe John would never discover that not everyone's romantic and sexual orientation preferences fitted into the few tiny little boxes that these things got filed in. The Woman had invented a new label "Sherlocked" maybe that applied to John. He looked into his friends eyes and saw that he could make things better for John.

"Oh stupid, stupid" he addressed himself and stood up abruptly as the realisation dawned. He knew what to do now. "John, have we still got any friends on the police force?"

He whipped round to face his friend and grinned happily. "The conductor of light, that's what you are" he paused.

John looked a little confused.

Sherlock guessed he was wearing the "we both know what's going on look" which, when John wasn't keeping up with Sherlock's train of thought John found annoying. Sherlock reflected that it perversely gave him pleasure to annoy John. Especially when he looked adorable when he wasn't quite keeping up.

"God, I need a cigarette" Sherlock began pacing with short steps. "Oh yes" his breathing was still short with excitement and pleasure at his sudden flash of John-given inspiration.

"and something to eat. And you need to eat too"

John was a bit confused. He had come in to comfort Sherlock, like a best friend would, and then Sherlock had put his hand on his knee, like... more than friends do. John was certainly not going to say anything on the subject, nor did he have the time to, for Sherlock had sprung to his feet and asked him whether the still had friends on the police force.

"Well... Lestrade, a couple of the SOCO officers... I don't know. I haven't really checked in in a while, and last time I did, you where kind of a..... um... forbidden topic?" Replied John, still not sure why that mattered.

Conductor of light? What the hell is he on about?

Oh no. Not the look again. John had forgotten what it felt like to be under that stare. He felt like saying 'For the record, I never have and I never will understand what you are trying to say if the only thing you do os give me "the look" ' but he didn't.

John just decided it was better to sit and be confused rather than tell Sherlock to stop giving him the look.

"A cigarette? Sherlock, you're not supposed to have any!"
Sherlock didn't listen.

John was still very confused.


(( wow. You are very good at the art of being confusing. Not only is John confused, but so am I!))

"Um" said Sherlock grimacing. "I need a case. Lestrade, get me his number, his personal number of you have it".

Sherlock saw John's face. He stopped pacing."yes John, you, you may not be the genius in the room but you have a remarkable gift for illuminating the room with your brightness. You just say something bright or look at me some way and you make me think faster".

He flashed John a cheeky grin. "I need a case, I'm far too young and skint to retire with a pipe and slippers yet".

"I'll get some nicotine patches tomorrow. Have you still got that ash tray I nicked for you from Buckingham Palace?"



((Sorry, conductor of light was in HOUND of Baskerville. I have got two cases for John to help Sherlock to solve, three nearly))

"Um. Thanks. I think I still have his number in my phone." Blushing at the odd compliment, John took out his phone and scrolled through contacts. "Here we are: 792 4582. Area code is as same as ours. And yes. Its on your closet on the top shelf. I put it there while you were away on a case."

John got up and opened Sherlock's closet. It smelled like Sherlock, and for a moment he was comforted by it. Then he shook himself to get the thoughts out of his head and quickly grabbed the ash tray and closed the closet.