Just imagine that everything happened in the last chapter up to this point where Scott gets up to leave.

…

"Well, what John?" Dr Scott brought him out of his daze.

"Ah, nothing." John waved his flippantly. This man wouldn't understand his feelings about Sherlock. It wasn't something that could be explained.

"Are you sure?"

No, "Yes."

His phone beeped from somewhere inside his pocket. He pulled up and looked at the message. He started to shake a little bit.

"Um we need to wrap this up." He put his phone away. "Before I go, I want to ask something. Is there anything that you regret not saying to him when he was alive?"

Oh there were. There was about a thousand things he wanted to say, but what was the point now? Breaking the strongest walls around his heart to a complete stranger was not going to solve anything. Sure it may have made him feel better, but it wouldn't have brought Sherlock back from the Netherworld

"Maybe just that he meant a lot to me more than he could ever have known, and that I was proud to be his partner and best friend."

Scott nodded. "Well, I am sure that he knew it, even if you never said it to him. And the feeling was reciprocated, John." The doctor reached his hand out for John to shake for the last time. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"And you." John said. "I will hopefully see you soon, after your trip."

Scott grinned. "I am certain that will happen." He picked up his things and strode out the room. Mrs Hudson happened to past him at the same time. Scott nodded to her.

"Was that Dr Scott?" Mrs Hudson asked as she walked up to him.

"Yes, of course he was." John replied, confused. "Who else would he be?"

"Sorry, I was just expecting him later." She stated as she walked into the kitchen to fetch on of her mugs. John stopped.

"So you didn't let him in?"

"No, I didn't even hear him." She said, raising an eyebrow when she saw John's bemused face. "What is wrong?"

John didn't reply. His mind was running through the different ways in which he could have gotten into the apartment without making a sound, and, from years of studying Sherlock's methods, he came into one conclusion:

He had a key.

XXX

Two years later…

He looked at himself in the mirror, admiring how far he had come.

John had now a steady job, he had finally gotten back into practice. Sure it was checking pimples on hairy men's backs and cleaning up snotty children's noses, but it was better than brooding at home. He had also a wonderful girlfriend, Mary Morstan, whom works with him at the clinic, and helped him to feel less defensive about his sexuality and he could honestly tell people he was not gay (he wasn't lying really, since he was bisexual, but he made it a point to never bring that up in a conversation).

Ahh ever since he met her, she brought greater meaning in his life. Mary was smart and loving and became an important part in overcoming Sherlock's death. Gone were the days when he thought about that mysterious man who helped him on his route in the first place. Those two days became more of an arb dream in a distant memory, along with the theory he had about Sherlock's death.

He straightened his jacket, and combing his moustache, unfortunately the only idea that he remembered from the experience. His phone buzzed beside him, giving him the reminder to fetch that very special present for Mary…

XXX

The evening started out well for our dear friend John, who was filled with the rush of adrenaline and alcohol, all bright eyed and ready to present the ring to Mary and ask her to be his lawful wife and rest when he came…

Out of all the nights that Sherlock had to come back alive, he had to choose that one, didn't he? Sherlock, master of disguises, boss of deduction, choose that friggen night to become queen of all dramas. He thought he could just strut in like he owned the place and take back John.

And the cherry on the cake was that John grew the moustache for Mary and she didn't even like it.

John stood coldly on the side of the counter, staring daggers at Sherlock, because he was kicked out the other two restaurants for trying to kill him.

"One word, Sherlock!" John hissed. "One word, Sherlock that was all I would have needed. One word to let me know that you are alive!"

Sherlock was losing his cool. How could John not remember? "I did. In fact I sent someone over to talk to you."

John looked back incredulously. "You sent no such thing! I do not remember anyone coming over to tell me that you were alive!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, adding more fuel to the fire. "Cast your mind back, John, to third month after that day…"

"Sherlock, I am in no mood to put up with your cryptic crap. Just tell me who."

Sherlock cleared his throat, changing his accent into a familiar American one. "So you don't remember Dr Scott."

John froze, the memories flowing back into his brain. The visits from the odd man with the sunglasses, none of the stories that made sense, like how one day he was off in Switzerland and the next Sweden… he should have known better.

"He, he was you?" John's voice went dangerously calm.

"Sorry who?" Mary interrupted.

Not taking his eyes off of Sherlock John explained, "Our, friend, here took it upon himself to dress up as a character from a Douglas Adam's novel, and come around to the apartment for therapy sessions."

Mary could not hide a snigger. From what John told her, that sounds like something that Sherlock would do, but she thought it was strange that this Dr Scott was not mentioned before.

"It is not funny Mary." John said.

"It kinda is."

Sherlock cut in. "Well I should explain. I was back in London to communicate with Mycroft about Moriarty's underground network. I came back purely for business, and Mycroft warned me that is the way I should leave it, but I couldn't help but to see Molly. She told me how deep into depression you went. I knew that I should have told you, but it was dangerous to have too many people into the secret. So I decided to visit you and give you some sort of hint of my survival."

John frowned. "You didn't say anything of the sort; you just said that you did for a reason."

"Oh, I thought you would figure out that Dr Scott was me. I made it so simple." Sherlock said in a flippant tone. "Even Anderson could get it."

John never felt more insulted in his entire life. He leaned closer to Sherlock, pointing a finger in his face. Mary looked from her boyfriend to the unexpected visitor and realised something. She, like Sherlock, was a very observant person, but unlike him she knew when to leave. These two needed to sort whatever it was in private.

She slipped away quietly; only a slight, thankful glance from Sherlock was given to her departure. John, on the other hand, was chattering away, oblivious to where Mary went.

"How did you expect that I would understand? You gave nothing away!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "First of all, like you noticed then, my name was a combination between my original unused first name, William, and my second middle name, Scott. I then wore sunglasses inside, using the excuse that my eyes are sensitive. That, to begin with, was a ridiculous excuse and second, there was at one point I took my glasses off without a complaint to clean them…"

"I didn't see that…"

"Then" Sherlock continued, ignoring John's comment, "I proceeded to make up excuses that made no sense. First I said I was going to Switzerland then to Sweden. I made up an appointment that coincided with Midsummer Murders. I managed to come into the house, uninvited, which could only be possible with a key. The list can go on and on."

"But Sherlock, those just showed that you are a creepy American, not yourself. Of course I found it strange, but not strange enough to assume anything different!" John sighed. How could he possibly guess anything otherwise? All he saw was a therapist who was desperate to know everything about Sherlock…Oh my God, he told him everything about what he thought about him.

"Wait, didn't you say that you just wanted to deliver your hint and leave? Then why did you stay another day?"

Sherlock blushed a little. He was hoping that John wouldn't remember that bit.

"Well, uh, you see… I loved hearing your thoughts on me."

John was quiet for a few seconds the said, "You are that self-centred that you wanted to TALK ABOUT YOURSELF WHILE THE RUSSIAN MAFIA WAS AFTER YOU!"

A few curious/worried glances from the other people around them, reminded John to calm down.

"It wasn't the Russian Mafia, it was the Ukrainian, and it wasn't about me being self-centred but me being curious about what you truly thought of me, if my suspicions were correct or not."

John crossed his arms and tilted his head, his heart beating quickly. He prayed that he was not going to say what he thought he was going to say.

"Well, that you were," he looked at John for a second or two, "no, are, in love with me."

John gasped, turning around to deny everything to Mary, when he saw that she was not there.

"Don't worry, Mary isn't here, she went out a few minutes ago."

"Sherlock, how many times must I say, I. Am. Not. Gay!"

"You are right John. You aren't gay. You are bisexual." (even Sherlock agrees to my previous point at the top.)

John was speechless. Sherlock (goddammit did he have to admit it?!) had a point. He looked into his friend's eyes, subduing his anger.

Oh that beautiful arsehole was right. Damn it! Just when he thought he was over it!

"I hate you Sherlock." John muttered as he turned around.

"I know." A satisfying, triumphant smirk crossed Sherlock's face. John walked out the building with his new boyfriend in tow.

"So are you or I going to tell Mary?" John asked.

"Tell Mary what?" Mary asked from beside them. She flickered her eyes from John to Sherlock and back again then gave a small smile. "Ah, I see. I should have known that you were in love from the day you mentioned him." She nodded to Sherlock. "You couldn't shut up about him, you know."

John felt his face heat up, ready to explain everything when she held up her hand to silence him. "I know what you are going to say and you don't have to. I am just glad that you are finally happy. She turned to Sherlock. "Take care of him." She pushed away from the wall and signalled a cab that came down the road. Within seconds she disappeared.

"Oh I really like her. I hope you two can remain friends." Sherlock broke the silence. John gave him a glare in response.

"What?"

"You still annoy me." John muttered

"Good." Sherlock turned John's face. They were inches away from each other. "I am glad we got that sorted out." Then he kissed him.

John didn't realise he was missing this until now. He wrapped his arms around his waist and deepened the kiss. They were encompassed in their own world until they heard a whistle and clapping from behind them. Some teenagers were around them

John turned red. "Let's go home."

"To your place or mine?" Sherlock teased.

"To ours."

And with that they made their way back to 221B Baker Street.

Hallooo Bokkies

So I finally got that out of my system. I personally loved this one more than the other one. Maybe because there was more substance to it? Anyway I hope you like it, because I have no idea when I am going to post again. Concentrating on my school work and my original book is going to take out some of my time, but if you guys are desperate for me to write out an idea that you have, I would love to hear it out.

Love thecapefangirl

P.S: some of the references from the last chapter and this one:

Chapter 3:

"Great."Scott... This is a reference to The Rocky Horror Picture Show, when Brad sees his old Professor Dr Scott. (if anyone got that super arb reference you deserve a gold medal)

"I will not apologise for art" is from Llama's with Hats (watch it if you haven't. It is hilarious)

Chapter 3a:

"Not taking his eyes off of Sherlock John explained, "Our, friend, here took it upon himself to dress up as a character from a Douglas Adam's novel, and come around to the apartment for therapy sessions." Martin Freeman acted in The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, which was adapted from a novel from Douglas Adam with the same name. (also worth a read)

I hope that puts your minds at rest