Disclaimer: My name is not Steven Moffat, I am not the biggest troll alive. Therefore I don't own Sherlock. Dammit...
A/N: First Sherlock fanfic! This story was written for Pawa93 on DA. She wanted a happy, fluffy Johnlock reunion fic, and this is what came out of it. I hope you enjoy and please leave a review filled with constructive criticism as I am still new to this fandom.

Welcome Home

It had been more than a year since it had happened. Since he had seen his best friend fall from the building, watched him lie on the pavement, dead.

In the beginning it had been so hard, so very hard. He had refused to believe it had really happened, even begged at the grave of Sherlock. "But, please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't be... dead. Would you do that just for me? Just stop it. Stop this." But now he had slowly started to move on, accepting the fact, that Sherlock would never come back.

He wasn't the only one who suffered. Molly could barely look at him without bursting into tears. Mycroft had stayed completely out of touch. Lestrade's job suddenly got both easier and harder. There was no Sherlock to call him an idiot in front of the reporters, but there was no-one who could help him when it was necessary. And even though Mrs. Hudson complained when Sherlock put a head in the refrigerator, he can tell she misses it a little.

His life is completely dull without Sherlock Holmes beside him.

Suddenly the doorbell rang. John sighed, knowing who that would be. A client. Even though everyone knew he was dead and despite everything the newspapers had said about him, people still came by. They all assumed the assistant was almost as brilliant as the detective. And he had tried a couple of cases, but he could never finish them. Too many memories of his old friend.

Suddenly he heard Mrs. Hudson scream. He jumped to his feet, ran over to get his gun, then ran as fast as he possibly could. He sprinted down the stairs and took in the sight in front of him.

Mrs. Hudson was lying on the floor, unconscious, but otherwise she looked unharmed. A man with dark hair kneeled on the ground beside her, his back turned to him. But he still seemed familiar to John.

"Get away from her," John sneered and aimed the gun at the man, who didn't really seem to react. "I said, get away from her or I'll shoot."

"Actually, John, I think we both know, that is not true."

That voice... painful memories were brought back to the surface.
"I'm a fake."
"Nobody could be that clever."
"I created Moriarty for my own purposes."
"This phone call, it's... it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note."
"Goodbye, John."
His hands began to shake, but he didn't lower the gun. "WHO ARE YOU?" he yelled.

"Really, John, you've forgotten me after 1 year, 3 months and 2 days? I should be offended." The man turned around and for a second John stared at him, like he had just seen a ghost.

Then his world turned black.


When he woke up he was lying on the sofa. He tried to remember what exactly had happened, but it was all a bit hazy. He remembered hearing Mrs. Hudson scream. He had run down to help her and she had been lying on the ground dead... no, just unconscious. There had been a man with her. Suddenly the confrontation with the Sherlock look-a-like came back. For a minute there he had actually believed it was Sherlock.

"That was a crazy dream," he said aloud. There was no way, this could have happened, right?

Apparently it could, because moments later a voice said, "It was not a dream."

John sat bolt upright and stared. There sitting in the chair was Sherlock Holmes. He had the annoying, knowing smile on his face as he looked at John.

"Oh," John said. "I'm still dreaming." He pinched himself hard. "Ouch!"

"I told you, this is no dream. This is all reality."

"Except, you're...you're dead! You jumped off a building! I saw you do it!"

"It was a trick. It was just a magic trick."

John slowly got up from the sofa, walked over to Sherlock and poked him.

"Really, John, I am not a gorilla you poke with a stick. Will you please stop staring at me?"

"So...so it's really you, Sherlock. You're really here?" He stumbled over the words.

"Of course I am," Sherlock said and got up from the chair. "I am standing right in front of you."

"Just making sure," John said and punched him in the face, not caring if he avoided his nose and teeth. Sherlock's head snapped back and he fell to the ground with a thump. "That was for letting me see your 'suicide' and for pretending to be dead!" Sherlock's nose had started to bleed and he threw him a towel. "You could have told me you're alive! Not to mention what all this has done to everyone else! Molly's been a wreck! She can't stop-"

"She knew."

"-crying... hang on, what do you mean she knew?"

"She helped me fake it all. Who else could have done all that? She was the one who replaced my body with the fake one, and gave me all the things I needed to fake a death."

"You trusted Molly over me?" John said, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice.

"John," Sherlock put his hand on his shoulder, "You are by far, the most important person in my life. I did all this to protect you. I wanted nothing more than to tell you, that I was really alive, but if they had found out I was really alive, they would have killed you and everybody who counts."

"Who are you, and what have you done with the real Sherlock Holmes?"

"Months of living with Molly have affected me quite a lot I'm afraid."

John chuckled and silence fell between them. They both knew what was going to happen. Not it was only a question of who would make the first move.

"It's good to have you back," John said. He slowly moved closer to Sherlock, who raised his eyebrows, but didn't stop him. He slowly put his arms around him and hugged him tight, his head resting on Sherlock's chest. For a second he stood completely still, before his arms wrapped around John, pulling him even closer. It felt surprisingly good to hold John this close.

John pulled away a little and their eyes locked. Sherlock saw just how haunted John had been due to his absence, but also happiness and an emotion he had noticed before in those eyes, but never as strong as this.

Before he knew what he was doing, he leaned forward and gently pressed a kiss to John's lips. He closed his eyes, for once shutting his brain off, savouring the feeling of kissing this wonderful man. John hardly hesitated before kissing Sherlock back, his hands tangling in the dark hair. Oh, now people will have a reason to talk he couldn't help but think, but after that all thoughts were wiped from his head.

After some time they broke apart, both panting a little. He knew there was a rather dazed look on his face, but he was pleased to see the same kind of expression on Sherlock's face.

"John, I am really, truly sorry for all that has happened."

"It's okay. Really, it's all going to be all right."

Sherlock did not doubt him for one second.