Closure

Disclaimer- I do not own the characters or places mentioned in this fic.

Sherlock glared as his phone buzzed. He really couldn't deal with Mycroft right now. Ever since... Sherlock's "death" his brother had bombarded him questions.

Where are you?

What are you doing?

When are you coming back?

How could you do this to him?

Sherlock never replied to his brother. He didn't know how to answer. He didn't have any answers. He couldn't come back, not yet. Moriarty may be dead but his web of crime wasn't. He needed to wait. If he turned out to be alive who knew what the criminals of Moriarty's world would do? They had already threatened to kill Lestrade, Mrs Hudson and... and John. Just a few more months, then the criminals of London would have forgotten him and their so called loyalty to the dead.

Mycroft's latest text hadn't been a question. Just three little words.

He needs you.

Mycroft never had to mention who "he" was. Sherlock knew.

It had been nearly a year. A year since John had lost his detective. A year since John had watched Sherlock's body fall. A year since Sherlock had "died". Sherlock hadn't seen nor spoken to John since. It was the only way. He had to stay away and John was the only person who could convince him to come back, to come home. But for the world to believe the lie, John needed to believe it too. No matter how much Sherlock missed John's woolly jumpers. No matter how much Sherlock missed frustrating his doctor by revealing who-dun-its before the end of the programme. No matter how much Sherlock missed the way John grinned at Sherlock when he deduced something, when he looked at Sherlock like he was the most wonderful thing in the world. He missed John's laugh, his tap, tap, tapping as he wrote his blog. He missed John.

So you can understand his astonishment when the buzzing from his phone announced a text that was not at all from his brother.

TEXT FROM DR JOHN WATSON
RECIEVED AT 15:43

Did John know? John hadn't texted him for nearly a year. John knew that Sherlock never read his emails, preferring texts no matter how long. Had John worked out the lie?

Sherlock. You've been gone nearly a year now. I know this number is no longer in use; it's probably been thrown away. At least that will mean no one else will read this. You will never read this I know, but there are some things I need to tell you. Maybe it will give me closure, I don't know. -JW

The text ended there. It didn't sound like John. Not his John. He sounded defeated. Like he'd given up. Sherlock couldn't picture his doctor writing so sadly. Surely John had moved on, got a new roommate, someone easier to live with. He was John. He always had that stupid beam on his face. But Mycroft's text flashed through his mind.

He needs you.

XXXXXXX

John's next text came the next day.

Sherlock. How many times have I wanted to throttle you with your own scarf? How many times have I thought maybe if you didn't stop being so frustrating I'd do you in myself? That sounds horrible doesn't it? Well now you're gone. You've always been the most incredible man I've ever known. You never stop surprising me. Please, surprise me just one more time. Come back. Please. –JW

Sherlock knew now he was right to have not seen John. No matter how much he missed him. John could convince him to come home. To come back to him. Didn't John see it? By staying away, he was keeping his doctor safe!

He needs you.

XXXXXXXX

The third text came the day after that.

Sherlock. People threatened you every single day. But I'd never really thought of you actually dying. I couldn't imagine a world where you weren't playing the violin at ridiculous hours of the morning. You were my friend, my roommate, my life. Everything revolved around you. Now you're gone it's like I'm a planet without an orbit. –JW

Sherlock put a hand up to his face. His cheeks were wet. Was he... crying? He never cried. Not properly. He cried to play with people emotions. Not real tears. Well what was happening now then?

He needs you.

XXXXXXX

Then the fourth.

Sherlock. It's like I'm a ghost. It's like I died with you that day. Greg keeps trying to get me to go out. To try and get over you. He misses you too you know. He doesn't say anything but it's there in his eyes. It's almost ironic. He is getting nowhere near as many cases solved without you. Mrs Hudson still knocks on your door to see if you wanted a cup of tea. Then she stops and sighs. She sighs a lot now. None of us know when exactly you had become so important to us. No one knows the moment you went from being an insufferable prat to... well a friend. You annoyed us so much but we loved you despite that. It's like the world has been turned upside down. But that's what you do. You had me at "Could be dangerous". You took my life and messed with it until I could barely recognise it. And I wouldn't have changed it for the world! You make people never want a life without you. –JW

How many more texts would there be? John sounded so sad. He couldn't bare it. Maybe... maybe he should wait a few weeks instead of a few months to go home. To get back to John.

He needs you.

XXXXXXX

Then came the final text.

Sherlock. I'm not sure if you knew. You knew everything about me from one glance. So you must have known. You must have known that I love you. That I've always loved you. I've known for a very long time, you don't see people in a romantic light. Not me, not anyone. You never have and you never will. You warned me off the first day we met. Did you know? Or was that a precaution. You probably catch people's interest all the time. Or you did when you were alive. I love you Sherlock Holmes. I needed to tell you. Without you... you're so selfish. You showed me all I ever wanted and then you took it away. You jumped off that building. It was a year ago today. They said the pain would get better but it hasn't. I'm here right now. Where you jumped. I'm standing on the edge. I'm trying to think why you could leave me. Trying to put myself in your shoes. It would be so easy. I always knew I'd follow you anywhere. Just one step and I could follow you once more. –JW

Sherlock was running before he'd even finished the text. He hadn't left London luckily. Traffic would be a nightmare so he ran. He ran. Fatigue meant nothing to him. He had to keep running. He had to get to John. He had to stop him. He had to. Had to keep running.

He needs you.

XXXXXXX

"John?"

John Watson was sat on the edge of the building. A year ago today, Sherlock had stood in that same spot. John's legs were dangling over the edge. John's eyes were unfocused, staring at London's horizon. He was thin. Thinner than Sherlock had ever seen him. Sherlock's favourite jumper was baggy instead of fitting perfectly like the last time he had seen it. His hair was greyer. He had new lines on his face. He looked miserable.

"John?" Sherlock repeated. This time John heard him.

"Great. I've gone mad now too. I'm seeing things now." John said quietly, his voice croaky, like he hadn't used it for a while. "I wasn't going to jump. I'm not that selfish. Greg and Mrs Hudson would view it as a huge failure on their parts. I'll continue pretending I've forgotten you. Pretending I'm moving on. But I'm not.".

"I'm sorry" Sherlock whispered barely louder that the slight wind, but John heard.

"DAMN RIGHT YOU'RE SORRY! YOU DESTROYED ME!" John stood on the ledge and bellowed at Sherlock. But Sherlock couldn't hear him. All he cared about was how close John was to falling.

"John, please get away from the edge"

"No. I'm through trying to please everyone else. This is the first time I've felt alive in a year. Feel my heart! It's racing" John continued shouting. In John's aggression he had stepped off of the ledge and was fast approaching Sherlock. Sherlock took a step forward. His breath was unsteady.

The next thing Sherlock saw was John's fist in his face.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? I KNOW YOU ARE A HEARTLESS PRAT BUT DIDN'T I MEAN ANYTHING TO YOU AT ALL?" at first John's hits hurt but they got softer and softer. Until he stopped and slumped to the floor. John was hugging his knees and crying.

"Of course you mean something to me. You're the only one I've got. The only person I want to have. You're my doctor. You don't understand John. Staying away was keeping you safe. Everyone had to believe I was dead. If you believed it, everyone would." Sherlock crouched beside him awkwardly.

"Wow. That has a nice ring to it. Even if I did make it up" John mused not looking at Sherlock.

"I'm real John." Sherlock said.

"Oh yeah? Prove it."

Sherlock looked at John steadily. Slowly and carefully Sherlock put his hands either side of John's face. Then he pulled the doctors face to his and kissed him.

He needs you.

XXXXXXX

John had been right. Sherlock didn't see people in a romantic light. But there are exceptions to every rule. And Sherlock's exception had a name. And its name was Dr John Watson. No one had known. Sherlock had always been a good liar and good at suppressing his emotions. John had been the first friend he'd ever had. He was special. He was different. He was his.

Mycroft had seen it. He had been the only one however. No one else knew Sherlock well enough to notice the signs. The looks he shoots John when John isn't paying attention. The way he reads the doctor's blog to see what he writes about him. Needing his constant approval and admiration. Always trying to impress him. That's why John had been Mycroft's bargaining tool to try and convince Sherlock to come home.

He needs you.

XXXXXX

John didn't trust him for a long time. They shared no more kisses after the one of the roof top. Sherlock moved back to 221B Baker Street. He went back to playing the violin early in the morning. He went back to putting heads in the fridge and ridiculous experiments in the kitchen. After the initial shock that Sherlock was alive after all, Sherlock returned to helping Lestrade with his cases. But John didn't come with him. John still stared at Sherlock as if he couldn't quite believe he was there. Sometimes John still woke up screaming for Sherlock. But Sherlock knew he wanted the Sherlock he trusted. The Sherlock John loved, not the Sherlock who had abandoned him and broken him.

He needs you.

XXXXXXX

John stopped looking disbelievingly at Sherlock. He went to work. He went out shopping. He wore woolly jumpers that fitted him better each day. He talked and laughed with Sherlock, making fun of him just like he used to. They watched rubbish detective programmes and Sherlock would give away the endings. Just like he used to. But John still woke screaming for Sherlock. And he still refused to come to crimes scenes.

He needs you.

XXXXXXX

"John?"

"Mmm?"

"I can't do this" Sherlock said from his chair. John looked at him with a creased brow.

"What?"

"I can't live like this. I want things the way they were. I want you to be my John. I want my partner and my friend back. You wanted me to come back. But you don't care about me anymore. I know you are hurting and I know it's a lot to ask. But please. John?" Sherlock said, his face clear of emotions but you could see his nervousness in his stiff posture. He was far from relaxed.

"I don't know what you mean" John said not meeting Sherlock's eyes.

"You don't come to crime scenes. You wake up in the night screaming. Screaming Sherlock. But you aren't talking about me. As far as you're concerned I'm a figment of your imagination. I'm not really me."

"I just... I'd finally started to accept that you're... that you were... well, dead. It doesn't feel real. I still can't believe it's you" John said quietly. He picked at his nails so as not to look at Sherlock.

"Did you not want me to come back? I can go again if that will make you go back to normal" Sherlock said quietly. John looked up sharply.

"Don't you dare leave me Sherlock. Not again." John said, it was an order.

"Well then come with me to a crime scene. Then I'll prove I'm real" Sherlock said. Slowly, John nodded.

He needs you.

XXXXXXX

"So, Sherlock, you really... er... read those texts?" John said nervously. Sherlock nodded. Ever since that first crime scene, Sherlock had really been at his best. Back to impressing John, just like always. And John couldn't deny he was the real deal. Things were like they were before. Except they were so different. There was an elephant in the room that needed to be addressed.

"So you read... read the last one. You know that I... I-"

"I know that you love me." Sherlock said simply. John cursed.

"So that... that... kiss on the roof... was out of pity?" John mumbled.

"No. It wasn't." Sherlock disagreed.

"It wasn't?" John gaped "So then... what?"

"I thought when someone tells you they love you, and you return the sentiment that is the appropriate action."

"Return... the sentiment?" John was clearly very confused.

"I love you John. You were right when you said I don't feel romantic inclinations but you could say you are the one anomaly." Sherlock looked John straight in the eyes. John was tripping over himself to reach Sherlock and kissed him hard. Sherlock smiled. Now this was better that before.

He needs you.

And Sherlock needed him too.

Thank you for reading! This was my first attempt at Sherlock fanfiction so I hope you liked it :)