John Watson was eating his breakfast, miserably alone, as per usual. The fact that it was Valentine's Day was just an unwanted reminder of exactly how lonesome he was.

He had just finished off his last slice of toast when there was a loud pounding at the door of his flat.

By the time that John had reached the door, someone had slid a heart-shaped card under the door.

The army doctor figured that it was probably just a card from Mrs. Hudson as he picked it up from the floor. The card appeared to be just an ordinary Valentine Day's greeting card, purchased from an ordinary gift shop. It wasn't until he actually opened the card that he realized just how wrong he'd been.

Typed on the inside of the card were the words "I've fallen for you" with the initials "SH" printed in pen below.

John felt a white-hot rage surging through him. It didn't matter how long it had been, he was still going to rip whoever had left this sick joke of a card limb from limb.

He flung the door open angrily; hoping that whoever had left the card would still be there or at least have left some kind of hint as to who they were. When he saw that the person who had left the card was in fact still there, his fury only grew as he stared into the proudly grinning face of the one and only, Sherlock Holmes.

"Get it, John?" He questioned just a little too eagerly and happy. "I fell for you. I'm breaking the ice about the incident with the whole jumping off a building and faking my death thing. And quite cleverly if you ask me. Especially when it leads into the fact that I actually faked my death to protect you, so really you should be thanking me-"

He didn't get any further before John had punched him in his abnormally sharp right cheekbone, sending the consulting detective straight to the ground.

"See, I figured that you'd be upset," Sherlock said, not seeming to take the less than subtle hint that he needed to shut his mouth, as he stood back up. "Which is why I'm trying to get this conversation over with so that we can avoid the awkwardness and go back to usual. Frankly, I'd be just as happy not discussing it at all…"

"Three years, Sherlock," John pointed out through gritted teeth. "And this is how you decide to tell me that you aren't dead?"

"Yes. It's clever," Sherlock assured him.

"No, it's not," John shouted. "And you should have bloody told me three years ago instead of expecting me to believe that you actually did all of the things that you tried to claim you had."

Sherlock knew that he was in trouble, but he also had no idea how to fix it, so he decided that the best approach would be not to say anything, since anything that he had said so far seemed to have only made matters worse.

John took a step forward, raising an arm. Sherlock was sure that he was about to be hit, but stood still, deciding to let John take his anger out.

Unfortunately for Sherlock, it was something much worse than being punched in the face… John hugged him.

"…I'd rather you didn't," The detective commented as his arms remained stiffly at his sides.

"Sherlock, shut up," John said in a much calmer tone as he continued to hug his best friend.

Sherlock decided to take the advice and reluctantly patted John's back in his best attempt at reciprocating the hug.

"Does this mean that you aren't mad at me anymore?" Sherlock inquired.

"I will never stop being mad at you, Sherlock."

A smirk grew on Sherlock's lips as he thought to himself, we'll see about that.

A/N: Please read and review! This is just a short little one-shot that I wrote for my friend's birthday a while back. I thought that I'd post it since in a little over 13 hours we're going to find out how Sherlock really comes back. Anyways... I hope that you liked it and thanks for reading. :)