Here is Chapter 4. I hope you enjoy! Please leave a review if you feel so inclined.

When John awoke again, he did not know how much time had passed. He felt as if he had been wrapped in cotton. The world around him was fuzzy and indistinct and his mind felt as battered and bruised as his body. He had dreamt of the times before the fall and was so elated to be back there again. Then those dreams had turned into nightmares of watching Sherlock fall and being unable to stop it. He felt so conflicted. Yesterday, and for almost two years before that, all he had wanted was to have his old life back, to have Sherlock back but now that he could have that he couldn't let go of his anger.

And to top it all off he was thirsty again.

"Ahh, you're awake. I'm glad, I was beginning to get bored. I would like to tell you of all I did while I was gone." Sherlock's voice startled him. John was so caught up in his thoughts, he had forgotten where he was for a moment. He was still determined to ignore Sherlock but when the water glass appeared before him again, the temptation was too great. He drank from the straw without looking at Sherlock and thought about what he had said. He wants to tell me what he's been doing while I suffered. Well I don't have to listen to it, John thought indignantly, thought a part of him was pleased to be able to just lay there and listen to that voice.

Sherlock resumed his seat and began to tell John all that happened after the fall. He had only stayed with Molly for one night. He didn't want to endanger her anymore than he already had by involving her. He then holed up in a horrible little hotel until his wounds from the fall healed. It didn't take long, his plan had worked well and he didn't have many injuries. As he healed he began to plan how he would take down the rest of Moriarty's web.

He contacted Mycroft for help. That had been an uncomfortable conversation. Mycroft knew he was alive, of course, he had helped with all the paperwork and red tape that happens after someone dies. It had made Molly's job much easier to know that Mycroft would keep anyone from examining her "autopsy" of Sherlock Holmes, and the body they had used, too closely. But it was always hard to ask one's pompous older brother for help.

With Mycroft's help, Sherlock began to travel the world stamping out the remains of Moriarty's network. He had come close to death more times than he cared to think about and he had killed more than times than he could ever forget. He was almost done when he had heard of John's injury and rushed home to London to be at his bedside. He hadn't been far away, and so had been able to get to the hospital before John was even out of surgery.

John tried not to be affected by Sherlock's story. He tried to block out the words so that there was no meaning just sound but he couldn't. The more he heard of Sherlock's travels the more he was forced to realize that Sherlock had not had it easy. When he spoke of his brushes with death, John could hear the buried fear and when he spoke of the lives he had taken John could hear that it had changed him. They had more in common now, they had both been to battle and it had changed who they were.

The longer he listened to that baritone swirl around him, the less conflicted he felt. The truth that his best friend was alive, that Sherlock was not dead and his request had been answered, was sinking in. He was still angry, very angry, with his friend for putting him through the worst pain of his life but his relief at having Sherlock back was growing and he thought the relief might soon overtake the anger.

"John, I want you to know that when I heard that you had been shot…" Sherlock paused and raised his head to look at John for the first time since he began talking. "I couldn't think. Me, Sherlock Holmes, I couldn't form a single thought. I was so affected by the idea that you were injured, that you might die, that I couldn't think. I stood frozen like any other idiot would have." Sherlock looked chagrined at this confession. "I don't know what I would have done if you had died." Sherlock's face screwed up here with some emotion John couldn't identify.

"And so I find myself in a position that I detest. I must apologize." Now he looked John in the eye and John could see he was sincere. "I'm sorry John. I had no idea what it was like to think you're friend is dead. When Moriarty threatened you, I was scared for you but I knew I could save you. This time, when Mycroft told me you were shot in the chest and I knew I couldn't do anything to save you, the fear was so much greater. I must believe that given my issues with feelings what you felt on the event of my death must have been even greater than what I felt and I can hardly comprehend that. I am so sorry to have put you through that. Please forgive me."

Sherlock's eyes pleaded with John to understand but before he could decide if or how he would respond, there was a noise at the door. Sherlock rushed to hide again and John tried to school his face into a pleasant mask. He couldn't hold it though when he saw who walked in.

Thanks for reading, please let me know what you thought. If you enjoy my writing I have another story that takes place before this one, right after the fall from Sherlock's point of view. Try it out you might like it. : )

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