"Can we not do this?"

Sherlock looked up from the table at John. "Do what?"

John gestured around the room. "This! Pretending like the last three years didn't happen."

Sherlock gave him a puzzled expression. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do, Sherlock," John said, shaking his head. "You know exactly what I'm talking about!"

"For once in my life I don't think I do," Sherlock answered. "Are you alright, John? Judging from the circles under your eyes, it doesn't look like you've gotten much sleep-"

"To hell with the sleep!" John shouted. "You came back from the dead, Sherlock! Three years ago, I watched you jump!"

Sherlock stared at him, drumming his fingers on the table. "I took care of everything. Moriarty's dead, I'm alive, there's nothing to discuss."

John felt his mouth drop open. "Nothing to discuss?"

His flatmate shrugged his shoulders. "No, nothing."

"Where were you?"

"Doesn't matter."

"What happened?"

"Dull things that have no interest to me."
"Who else knew about this?"

"No one."

"When did you plan to come back?"

"I always planned on coming back."

"Why did you do it?"

Sherlock took a great deal of interest in the wallpaper.

John slammed his fist on the table, causing Sherlock to jump slightly in his seat. "Why did you jump?"

"John, why I jumped doesn't make any difference-"

"Doesn't make a difference?" John interrupted. "Doesn't make a difference? I find that hard to believe. Do you know how I spent the last three years, Sherlock?"

Sherlock leaned forward. "Let's hear it then, all of the dull and boring details of your life."

"I was alone!" he yelled. "I was practically friendless and alone. I'd go to your grave to say hello, have a chat with myself since you didn't answer. I spent time with Mrs. Hudson for a bit, but it never felt right for either of us since you weren't there. And then Greg, we occasionally met up for drinks, but soon that had to end. Do you know he became an alcoholic, Sherlock? He's depressed and alone. Never got over you jumping, leaving no explanation for it all. Even at the funeral, I couldn't speak to your brother. He betrayed you, and I wanted nothing to do with him. I still want nothing to do with him. You left me with no one, Sherlock. A couple months after you jumped, my limp came back. It took me nearly two years to get rid of it again, and that's only because I met Mary.

Mary was alone, just like me. She understood my pain. And we fell in love, Sherlock. We fell in love. For once, I wasn't being taken advantage of, I knew I was appreciated, knew that I was loved. I proposed, and she said yes. That was two weeks ago. Today... You showed up at my door. I thought I was seeing things. You spoke, I hit you. You're real, but you won't tell me what happened. Why?"

Sherlock had tears around his eyes. "John, I- I'm sorry. I'll tell you everything."

"Everything?" he hadn't expected him to give in so easily.

Sherlock nodded. "Everything. I survived by-"

BOOM!

John woke up with a start, the sounds of rain pounding on the window. His breath became short, and he shut his eyes, only to succumb to tears once more.