Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Standing in the Yard's car park, hugging the man he thought dead for the past 2 years, Greg was trying extremely hard not to cry. Sherlock was here, alive and hugging him.

"Sherlock, how? How are you here, alive? I saw you, dead, I was the one who had to take John and Mycroft to identify your body." Greg said, his voice brimming with unshed tears.

Sherlock pulled away so he was looking Greg in the eye. "It was a ruse. I had to fake my death, Moriarty had snipers trained on the people close to me. The only way they would stop was on my death. I knew this would happen so I arranged a fake suicide."

Greg understood that Sherlock did what was needed to protect the people close to him, but 2 years of agony, seeing John break over time, it made him so angry.

He finally snapped out of his thoughts and nodded towards his car. "Come on then, let's go somewhere a bit more private." Sherlock said nothing only nodded and followed towards the car.

The drive to Greg's apartment was silent, both men trapped in their own thoughts. Sherlock thinking of how to tell John he was alive while Greg was silently fuming and getting angrier by the moment.

When they arrived at the apartment, Greg led Sherlock up to his apartment on the 3rd floor. Both men entered and sat in the sitting room for a few minutes until Sherlock broke the silence.

"So, how's John then?"

That was when Greg finally snapped.

"You weren't there Sherlock! You didn't see him! He's a broken man. Drunk phone calls all hours of the night and day. Once, I had to rush to the graveyard. You know why, Sherlock? JOHN WAS KNEELING AT YOUR GRAVE WITH A GUN IN HIS MOUTH, SAW NO REASON TO LIVE WITHOUT YOU."

The memories suddenly overtook Greg's mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Greg was sitting in his office filling out some paperwork when his phone rang. He didn't even check who was calling, just answered.

"Lestrade speaking."
"Heeeeeey Greggg. Isss mee John."

Greg immediately knew that John was drunk.

"Greggg, is Sherlock there? I haven't seen him all day" John was slurring his words but Greg's heart still broke. John was drinking so much that he still believed Sherlock was alive.

"No John, he's not here." Greg continued his conversation with drunk John, and when it ended he told Donovan he was taking the rest of the day off and spent the rest of the day in 221b Baker Street, making sure John was okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The phone calls became a regular occurence, so much so that Greg told Mycroft about every one. Cuddled up against his husband, crying because it hurt him to see his friend so broken, he begged him to put John under extra surveillance.

"Mycroft knew." Sherlock whispered. "He knew that I was alive. He couldn't tell anyone for fear they'd be killed."

That made everything worse. His husband knew Sherlock was alive and never told him. He hadn't got too much time to think about it though, his mind brought forth the worst memory he had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About a year after Sherlock's death, Greg was on a case but when his phone rang and he saw John's name on the screen, he immediately picked up.

"Greg?"
"Yeah John, it's me what's up?"
"C-could you come, to -to the graveyard?" Greg could hear the tears in John's voice and became extremely worried.
"Yeah, of course mate, I'll be there as soon as I can. Okay?"
"Y-yeah, thanks." Then John hung up the phone.

"DONOVAN!" Greg shouted.
"Yeah Boss?"
"I gotta go. It's an emergency. You're in charge, got it?"
"Yes sir, but-" Sally never got to ask her question because Greg had already started running towards his car.

About 15 minutes later Greg pulled up at the graveyard and rushed to Sherlock's grave, sensing there was something wrong.

He could never be prepared for the sight that met him. John Watson, kneeling on Sherlock's grave, trembling hands holding a gun in his mouth.

"JOHN! DON'T!" He screamed as he ran towards him.

John turned to look at him, tears streaming down his face and took the gun out enough to say, "But he's gone. Dead. There's nothing worth living for anymore." That broke Greg more than he'd care to admit, but he managed to calm himself enough to try and coax the gun out of John's mouth.

Greg sat down beside John and after a good bit of coaxing, John handed the pistol to Greg who clicked on the safety and put it well out of John's reach. John fell against Greg who held him tightly and didn't even need to say anything before John started to talk.

"You know how Sherlock and I met, right?" After a nod from Greg, he continued, "Well, the day Mike introduced me, I planned to end my life. I was useless, my mum and dad were dead, my sister was an alcoholic and I had nobody. The one thing I had, being an army doctor, had been ripped from my hands by a single bullet."

Greg said nothing once again but at a look from John he gestured for him to continue.

"I was taking a last walk around London before I went back to my flat and overdosed on my antidepressants. After Mike introduced me to Sherlock, I changed my mind. Decided that I could hold on one more day and that if I still felt like dying the next day, I could follow through on my plan."

He took a deep breath and said, barely above a whisper; "Sherlock saved my life, but I couldn't save his."

Both men sat in silence, Greg holding John tightly until both men broke down into large, ugly sobs. Greg recovered first and slowly reached for his phone. "I'm just going to text Mycroft, you'll be alright John."

Mycroft. It's John. He was going to kill himself. I talked him out of it but I'm afraid he'll try again, what should I do? -GL

Where are you? -MH

The grave -GL

Bring him to my brother's rehab room, I'll meet you there -MH

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eventually Greg had managed to get John into the car and to Mycroft, who took it from there. Slowly, with lots of help, John got better and didn't try to hurt or kill himself anymore.

The memories were too strong for Greg, so through tears he looked up at a sight he never thought he'd see. Sherlock Holmes, crying.

Chapter Text

After his little breakdown in Lestrade's flat, Sherlock worked up his confidence to ask Greg to drive him to Baker Street. The car ride was silent, nervous thoughts about how John would react taking over his mind.

Greg let him out outside the flat and then drove off with a muttered "Good luck Sherlock". Sherlock took a deep breath then knocked on the door.

Mrs Hudson opened it and when she saw who was behind it she whispered "Sherlock?", before pulling him into a hug and sobbing into his chest.

After convincing her that they should move out of the doorway, the pair entered Mrs Hudson's flat. She had stopped crying by this point but kept looking up at him and holding his hand; as if to be sure he was really there.

"Mrs Hudson, as much as I missed you and as much as I want to stay with you, I should really go see John." Sherlock announced awkwardly.

"Oh yes, of course dear. Yes, go on up, he should be in the flat." Mrs Hudson replied, her voice scratchy from crying.

With that, Sherlock left and slowly climbed the stairs to 221b and took a minute to calm himself before knocking on the door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming" came a voice Sherlock knew all too well from inside the flat. John's voice, but it sounded a lot flatter and less lively than Sherlock remembered.

Then suddenly the door opened, pulling Sherlock from his thoughts. In the doorway stood John, but this wasn't Sherlock's John.

Sherlock's John was always clean shaven, lively and willing to help anyone and always well dressed in jeans or slacks with a jumper on. This John had a scraggly beard, looked exhausted and grouchy and was wearing a pair of pyjamas that were well too big for him.

Upon closer inspection, the pyjamas were Sherlock's own pyjamas. John was standing in the doorway wearing Sherlock's pyjamas and dressing gown.

"John" he said softly.
"No, you can't be here. You're dead. I watched you die."
"I know, but I'm here now. If I could come in, I could explain."

John looked sceptical but stepped back to let him in regardless. "Come on then, tell me how you're not dead."

Sherlock stepped inside and was surprised to see everything exactly as it had been the day he left. Except dirtier.

"Sherlock, are you going to just look around or are you going to try and convince me I'm not crazy?" John interrupted.

"Right, sorry. Got a bit distracted."
"So? Am I crazy?"
"No John, you're not crazy. I'm actually here. If you don't believe me, ask my brother or Lestrade."

John said nothing but just looked at him while pulling out his phone and texted Lestrade's number.

Is Sherlock actually here or am I crazy? -JW

No John, I dropped him off. He's really alive and there. -GL

Sherlock saw John's eyes open in realisation. The realisation that his best friend was actually alive and standing in front of him.

"You bastard. You BASTARD. I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD." John unexpectedly exclaimed. "How? Why? Why now?"

"I had to, Moriarty would have killed you if I hadn't jumped, and he'd have killed Lestrade, and Molly and Mrs Hudson. I did it to protect you." Sherlock said softly, hoping if he remained calm John wouldn't get out of control.

"Why? Why now Sherlock? Why couldn't you come back sooner?"

"I had unfinished business. I had to dismantle Moriarty's network. It was the only way to keep you safe."

With that John stormed over to Sherlock and looked him in the eye while pulling up his dressing gown sleeve. On his forearm were lots of silver and pink scars, ones that Sherlock recognized from his own past as self harm scars.

"I did this BECAUSE OF YOU, YOU BASTARD"

Sherlock stayed silent but after a moment he began to unbutton his shirt.

"Sherlock what are you doing?"

Sherlock still didn't reply, only finished taking off his shirt. Then, when his shirt was on the ground leaving his chest bare, he took John's hand into his own and said "And I did this for you."

After seeing all the marks and scars on Sherlock's body, John finally broke down in tears and fell into Sherlock's chest. Sherlock's tears weren't far behind, though John's were loud heaving sobs while Sherlock's were silent.

"Shhhh it's okay John, everything's okay." Sherlock said assuredly, rubbing his hand up and down John's back.

"No it's not." John's muffled reply came from Sherlock's chest.

"No, it's not, but it is what it is."