Chapter Text
A pair of feet ascended the stairs, and Sherlock instantly recognized their owner by the slow, but sure footsteps.
“Evening, John,” he called out casually, a reflexive habit formed during the time when they shared the flat, when quick departures and returns in between cases were a constant.
Now, John’s departures lasted significantly longer than just a quick dash to the market for groceries. Well, technically, John had been departed for years, since he moved out originally with Mary. Since then, Sherlock never fully adjusted. He felt as if he was constantly waiting for something. Or rather, someone.
In fact – rather concerningly to Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock rarely left the flat to run his own errands for basic needs. Food, clothes, whatever necessity he was lacking, it never crossed his mind as a priority. He never needed to worry about them— those were John’s tasks. At least, they used to be.
Since he returned after his two year… absence, the flat had felt far too quiet without John there. Even after Mary's death, it seemed John was still set on living in isolation.
Which made it very strange that John would show up now, at the current late hour, without warning, Sherlock realized in a few seconds.
Something was wrong.
Sherlock stood up instantly and brushed himself off. He hadn’t touched his full closet of suits and coats in far too long and had reused through the same pair of pants and shirt for the last couple weeks while he… waited. He couldn’t quell the sense of shame at how unpresentable he looked, especially at what seemed to be a reunion of sorts.
“Hey, Sherlock,” John said, easing out of the large jacket he wore, before hanging it from the back of the desk chair, casually, the way one did when they meant to stay in a place for a while.
Something had to be wrong.
But nothing looked wrong. His outfit was put together – a button up under a jumper, over a pair of jeans. All ironed, and spotless. His silvery hair was combed in the side part he’d fashioned lately, perfectly neat as well. Sherlock wracked his brain for any upcoming occasion that required such meticulously put-together appearances yet such casual attire. If it was any kind of emergency, where was the urgency? But what could John be here for now, if not for an emergency?
“John? Is every—”
John opened his arms and wordlessly wrapped them around Sherlock like vices.
“John? What’s wrong? What’s going on?” He tried to push him away and determine the significance of the gesture. All he could think of was the last time the two had embraced – when Mary was shot. If anything similar had gone down, he needed to know imme—
“Eh? Wrong?” He pulled back, and as Sherlock opened his mouth to clarify, he saw the understanding register in John’s eyes.
Ah. Always so quick to pick up on things.
“Oh. No, it’s not… Well, I guess we never really…I…” John cleared his throat before chuckling lightly. “Nothing’s wrong, I just… came to see you. To say ‘hello’.”
“Hello,” Sherlock echoed, face pulled together in concentration as he failed to understand the simplicity of John’s words.
John’s eyebrows raised, and his head jerked in a nod. “Yes.”
“To see me? Why? What’s the hug for?”
John returned into the embrace, laughing again, the sound dry but genuine. “For you, you bloody idiot. It’s something you do when you want to say ‘hello’, like I said.”
“Oh” was all Sherlock could manage as John’s arms returned to his sides. He could still feel the lingering warmth from where he had touched him, crawling along his skin like the shed husk of a long-forgotten life, one that died the last time they'd embraced like this.
“Well, uh, actually, that isn’t all I’ve come for.” He crossed his arms and nodded. “I’ve made a decision.”
“On what?” Sherlock searched his mind for possibilities. Did John want to continue solving cases? No, highly unlikely considering he was still mourning Mary. Sentiment. Perhaps he was informing Sherlock that he decided to officially move away to find a new flatmate? His mind grew restless with curiosity at the speed in which it decided it had no clue what John could possibly want, even though that decision took less than a second to make.
“I decided that I want to move back in. With Rosie.”