A/N Hello readers :D I really hope you like this story. I think its going to be a one-shot, but I can make it a two chapter story if you would like. Enjoy!


John's eyes whipped open. Blinking rapidly, he is able to clear the spots from his eyes. He looks around him in the darkness, but all he hears is someone breathing heavily. Breathing to fast. John's eyes, finally adjusting to the darkness, land on a figure, who has his back against the wall, knees up to his chest, and head buried in his hands. "Sherlock?" John questions, his voice dripping with concern.

Sherlock's head lifts up so fast that he becomes dizzy for a second. His eyes are wide and John can barely make it out, but it looks as though his cheeks are wet. Tears? John almost gasps at the odd sight.

"Sherlock?" John asks again, moving forward until he is kneeling in front of Sherlock. "What's wrong?"

John moves to grasp Sherlock's chin, but Sherlock jerks away, throwing his head back so that the streetlights hits his face. John can finally see. His friend's face has tears streaming down it.


"Is this what it felt like?" Sherlock whispered, eyes sinking down, as if in shame.


"For you. When I- Oh god!"

Sherlock rolls his head back against the wall as if in pain, and then buries his head in his hands again, taking short breaths.

"I'm so sorry, John," Sherlock cried. "Oh god. I am so sorry."

"Sherlock, it's alright," John comforted, thoroughly confused at what was happening in front of him. Sherlock was having a breakdown. Sherlock. This didn't- This wasn't supposed to happen.

"It's not!" Sherlock suddenly yells. "It's not ok. What I did to you- It's not ok."

And then it clicks. Sherlock is talking about faking his death. Just moments ago, John and him were chasing a man they thought could be the killer of the recent deaths in town. They got separated and John ended up being body slammed into a wall by the killer, in an alleyway. His head connected harshly with the wall and he blacked out. Sherlock must have found him and tried to wake him from unconsciousness. Of course, Sherlock must have known he wasn't dead, but it must have scared him straight. John could feel the blood matted on the side of his head. That must have triggered the memories for Sherlock. Oh god.

"Sherlock, listen to me," John begs. "It's alright. Take some deep breaths for me."

Sherlock lifts his head and tries to do as his friend asked. John swears he sees him trying, But the first breath he takes stops short and he ends up in a coughing fit. John sees Sherlock's muscles tighten and he lets out a cry that goes straight to John's heart. And then Sherlock does the unexpected. His eyes are squeezed shut, the pain and fear are evident on his face, but suddenly he reaches out to fist a hand in John's jacket. John's heart sinks.

John scoots closer to Sherlock and begins rubbing his back in attempt to soothe him.

"Sherlock, breathe."

Sherlock has gone red in the face and his eyes are wide again. He takes a shaky to-short breath and fixes his eyes on John. Reality hits John like a ton of bricks. He moves his hand to clasp Sherlock wrist but he doesn't waste time counting, he can feel his pulse jumping in his veins. It obvious that Sherlock's heart is beating way to fast.

"Sherlock, you're having a panic attack," John states, his voice beginning to shake. You have to stay calm for him. "Have you ever experienced one before?"

Sherlock shakes his head and shuts his eyes again, causing more tears to run down his face.

"You have to slow your breathing. Just calm down."

"Hurts, John-"

"I know. I know. Just breathe through it. Nice and slow."

Seconds pass. Minutes pass, but to John it feels like hours. John keeps up his constant mantra of "It's ok, you're ok, just breathe." But it doesn't seem to be doing a damn thing.

John reaches out and takes Sherlock's chin in his hand, forcing Sherlock to look at him. Damn, he looks scared.

"Sherlock. I forgive you."

"Wha- John-" Sherlock tries to talk but his words stumble over themselves and he is left breathless once again.

"No don't talk," John states. "I forgive you. For all of it. Faking your death. Being away for so long. It's over. I'm done being mad. I forgive you. Now breath god damn it." And he meant it. He really did. All he wanted when Sherlock died was for him to come back, and he did.

Sherlock closed his eyes, his chest begin to rise and fall with more deep breaths. John waited a few more minutes. Carefully observing Sherlock's breathing, he was relieved to see his friend breathing evenly. Finally.

John sighed with relief. "Feeling better?"

Sherlock nodded. "You don't..have to lie," Sherlock said, taking a long breath in between.

"I'm not," John smiled, happiness reeling inside him at the fact that Sherlock was looking better and being more like himself.

"I know how to breathe, John."

John laughed. "Well, it certainly didn't seem like it."

"Can we go home now?" Sherlock asked. The fear was gone from his eyes and John could see faint smile tugging at his mouth.

"God, yes."

A/N Please review to let me know what you thought! It would mean the world to me!