Love is an incredibly curious thing indeed. (Sherlock one on one) (Closed!)

(GTG, be back in an hour or two.)

“That’s it? Your just going to sit there?” He scoffed. “I thought you were dead for two years. The least you could do is explain.” He waited. “Or apologize for that matter.” He added softly.

(Okie.)

"Fine, sorry."

(Hello! I'm back!)

(Sorry! I’m backkk now too.)

(Heyyy! Continue?)

“Thank you.” He sighed. After waiting a moment he continued, “Your really couldn’t have sent me anything to let me know you were alive. I was… oh never mind.”

(Yeuppers)

"You were what?" Sherlock asked, finally showing some mild interest in his friend.

"Should I plan a murder?"

“What? No. You might kill yourself… again.” He said as he rolled his eyes.

"Well, I did ask. You were what now?" Sherlock repeated.

“Never mind that. Just leave it.” He huffed, turning a bit red.

"Seriously, tell me. It's the only not boring thing that's happened since the grand reveal of me not being dead."

John puffed and turned his head. “I was… waiting for you.” He only mouthed the last part making it impossible to understand.

"I didn't hear that. Could you actually talk this time?" Sherlock asked.

“I was waiting for you! I was lost without you, don’t you get that?” He yelled. “I finally accepted your death and gave up. But now look. Your here. Alive.”

"Hmm. Not nearly as exciting a confession as I thought." Sherlock grumbled.

“Confession?” He raised his eyebrowrow hiding a blush. “People might get the wrong idea with that word, Sherlock. I am not gay.”

"I never said you were. Did I say you were gay? No. Did I imply it? Not at all. Elementary, my dear Watson."

“Your incredible.” He muttered in sarcasm with his eyebrows raised as if coming to a conclusion. “And that is an understatement.”

"I know I'm incredible."

John recrossed his arms and shook his head. “Do you have a plan?”

Sherlock had just begun to notice all the little details about John. He had lost an unhealthy amount of weight, hadn't gotten more than an hour of sleep, and clear signs of stress. Normally John would be incredibly meticulous about shaving but there were signs of stubble on his face. Maybe the loss of Sherlock had affected John worse than he had thought. "John, I'm… I'm sorry. For everything I've done to you. Put you through." Sherlock said.

Looking over at Sherlock, John looked him in the eyes, glacing from one to the other. “Yes, well, I’m sure you’ve been through a lot too.”

Sherlock stood up and walked over to John. He hugged his friend, not letting go for several minutes.

Shocked from the sudden gesture, John stood still like a deer in head lights. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Sherlock, his face buried in Sherlock’s coat. “I hope you don’t mind. A year after your “death”, I took up house here in this room. I didn’t touch your things except for what was on the bed.” He said a few moments after the embrace.

"Gay." Sherlock mouthed when John was looking away.

“I know what your thinking.” John stated when his back was turned to Sherlock.