A/N It has been done to death but I couldn't help writing this; it sort of fell out of my brain. Hope you enjoy.

"I got your Lottery tickets, Mrs Hudson," John called as he entered the flat. He sprang quickly up the stairs and into the living room.

"You shouldn't encourage that nonsense, John," Sherlock stated from his chair.

John halted quickly in his strides feeling like he had been punched in the gut.

"What the... Shit." The bags the doctor had been holding hit the floor with a thud and he nearly joined them.

Mrs Hudson came scurrying into the room hearing the noise, "Is everything ok?"

"Everything is fine, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock said standing up.

John, however, had different ideas, "Everything is not fine! I..this is.. Mrs Hudson, he is standing there isn't he?"

The landlady smiled, "Yes, he is. He returned this afternoon."

"He returned this aftern...he returned this...I don't think I can breath," John put a hand on his chest in an attempt to calm down.

"I'll get you a glass of water," Mrs Hudson quickly left for the kitchen.

"John, I can explain everything," Sherlock stated evenly.

John snorted darkly, "Oh you can, can you?"

"Yes. I had to do it."

"Of course. Of course," John nodded sarcastically, tears forming in his eyes, "Sherlock bloody fucking Holmes would have to make everyone think he was dead."

"John, it was..."

"Stop," John held up his hand, "Just...just..don't. I...God, I have spent the last year wanting you to be alive but right now, I could kill you."

John ran a hand over his face and closed his eyes. He was willing himself to keep taking deep even breaths. On one out breath, he found himself whispering the word 'Why?' aloud.

Sherlock made the tiniest of movements towards his friend but it was enough for John to flinch and step backwards.

"Please," John forced himself to look at the other man's face, "Just don't. I need...I can't...I need some air." And with that John left the flat; the bang of the main door closing seeming extra loud.

Sherlock didn't watch him go. He just stood abandoned in the middle of the room.

"He needs time," Mrs Hudson said softly, walking over to the detective.

Sherlock still didn't move.

"How about I make us a cup of tea?" Mrs Hudson tried her best to get a response but after a minute decided it wasn't going to be forthcoming so she went to busy herself in the kitchen anyway.

Only around five minutes passed when the door downstairs could be heard opening again. Footsteps were steady up the stairs.

"I asked for this," John said quietly as he reached the living room, "I asked for 'one more miracle'"

Sherlock remained unmoving.

"I said 'don't be dead',"

"I'm not," Sherlock finally turned to look at John.

John's mouth almost reached a smile. His eyes were wet, "No, you're not."

Silence settled for a moment until John took a few strides forward and enveloped Sherlock in a hug.

"John"

"Hmm"

"People will talk."

John released Sherlock and laughed. Laughed like he hadn't done in a year. However the laughter continued into tears.

"It's been hell, Sherlock."

Sherlock lowered his head, "I know."

John shook his head and then whispered, "You're alive."

"Yes," Sherlock raised his head again and quirked his brow; surely they had established this fact.

"You. Are. Alive," John stated; louder this time and with a hint of anger.

Sherlock tilted his head, "John? It there something wrong?"

John glared at his friend, "Is there something wrong? Sherlock, you fucking died! I went to your funeral and now, now..."

"I'm alive," Sherlock went to finish but halfway through the last word a fist connected hard with the side of his face, "What the f-?"

John tried shaking the pain away from his punching hand as he fell backwards into a nearby chair. He watched as Sherlock attempted to regain his neutral posture whilst rubbing at is already swelling cheek.

"Oh goodness," Mrs Hudson entered to room concern etched on her face, "What's going on?"

"He deserved that," John told her.

"Right...ok..." Mrs Hudson glanced over at Sherlock who gave her a faint nod.

"This is fucked up," John mumbled. He was now sat with his head in his hands.

Mrs Hudson sighed and walked over to the doctor putting a hand on his shoulder in support. This was a gesture that had occurred many times in the last year; as always John relaxed slightly and covered Mrs Hudson's hand with his own.

Sherlock took in the scene and suddenly felt so out of place. It was an unusual feeling and one he wasn't quite sure what to do with, "Do you...should I leave?" he asked tentatively.

John's eyes shot upwards. It was then that he truly saw Sherlock. The man looked tired, thinner than ever and lost. Completely lost. But it was still his best friend; very much alive.

"John...I..." Sherlock tried to start again.

"Don't you dare leave," John told him firmly.

Mrs Hudson sighed, "Yes, Sherlock, you've only just-"

"It's been hell, Sherlock," John interrupted, his entire focus on his friend. He was repeating his words from early but the tone differed. More questioning.

"It has been hell, John," Sherlock's voice came very close to breaking.

John would need the full explanation later but right then he knew that the detective had suffered perhaps as much as he had.

Mrs Hudson sensed this too and had already moved to hug Sherlock.

"I wanted to come back sooner," Sherlock said into her shoulder.

"I know, dear."

"Erm," John coughed as he stood up, "Do you have room for one more?

Mrs Hudson smiled and held out an arm inviting the doctor in. The doctor and the detective locked eyes for a brief second before the laughter started.

John allowed Mrs Hudson to wrap him in into the warmth and as he did so he brought his arm up around Sherlock, "Twice in one day?" he asked before he let his arm completely settle.

"Why not?" Sherlock shrugged lightly letting John embrace him again.

"Oh my boys," Mrs Hudson smiled from the middle of the hug, "My boys are back together again."

"John," Sherlock began.

"Hmm."

"Just so you're aware; I could go without being punched twice in one day."

John chuckled, "Shut-up, Sherlock."

...