It was two years after the fall. Sherlock was at Silver Strand Beach in Ireland. He had failed. He had looked but been unable to find Moran. He had phoned Lestrade and begged for help, despite what it did to his pride. He couldn't stand it anymore. Lestrade and Molly had been the only ones to know the truth. Lestrade had assured Sherlock that the police departments across the country were on it, keeping an eye out. He encouraged him to just leave it to the police and lie low, take a break. So here he was. There were a few other people here. One guy had his hood up and was flying a kite with one hand, and held the leash to a small Labrador puppy in the other. Sherlock looked up at the kite. It was a pale green. The sun shone through it. He shrugged to himself and sat down in the sand about ten meters away. The puppy noticed this and turned around, running over to him. Sherlock's eyes widened and he held up his hands so that it wouldn't run into his face. He chuckled as it knocked him over. "Hi there." He smiled.

The owner quickly brought the kite back down and shouted at the dog. "Sammy! That's not nice!" His voice was strangely familiar. The man walked over and took the dogs leash. "I'm so sorry." He said, not looking at Sherlock in embarrassment for his dog's behaviour.

"That's okay he's not bothering any-" Sherlock stopped as he saw the man's face. "Anderson?" He asked, incredulously.

Anderson looked up and paled visibly. "What? But….But you're dead!" He shouted, stepping back in fear. Sherlock shook his head.

"It was fake. Necessary for a case. Had to disappear. " He explained.

"You….you didn't tell anyone that." Anderson mumbled, his eyes wide. The dog sat down by his feet.

Sherlock stood up. "I couldn't it would jeopardize the case." He shrugged.

"Don't fucking shrug. Its been years and we all thought you were dead. John has….." He cut himself off, unable to finish the thought. "You robot! Do you not understand that this hurt people?"

Sherlock tensed at the mention of John. "I understand that, Anderson." He hissed. "I would have told him but if I had it would have put him in more danger. Him and Mrs Hudson and Lestrade. It would have endangered all the people I care about!" He insisted. "Its been two years for me too. Two years of constant hunting for this man, this one man who ruined everything and I still can't find him. I had to turn it over to the police. Its driving me mad!" He shouted. "You don't understand, Anderson. It hurts me too, not just John."

"I didn't mean just John." Anderson muttered. "Other people are hurt too. Other people attended your funeral."

"Were you there?" He asked. "Was Sally?" Sherlock cocked his head.

"We were both there, yeah. Sally didn't have anything. All this time, I thought….I thought it was my fault." He whispered, turning his head down to the ground.

Sherlock was stunned. "Why would it be your fault?" He asked him.

"I told Lestrade about suspicions that you may have been the one to kidnap those children, I turned his trust against you. If you had had his help you may not have needed to commit suicide. I thought…" He stuttered. "The whole time I thought you were dead because of me." he bit his lip and closed his eyes. "Its not a good feeling, thinking somebody it dead and its your fault."

Sherlock lowered his eyebrows. That made the guilt worse. "I didn't know you would think that." He muttered. "Well, I'm not dead." He said, smiling and spreading his arms jokingly. "See? Alive and well." He tried to lighten the mood. He did not expect Anderson to drop the dog's leash and wrap his arms around him, burying his face in his chest.

Sherlock tensed and his eyes widened. This was new. This was strange. This was not supposed to happen, definitely not with Anderson. "I..I don't um…" He stuttered, his arms by his side and his face heating up at the first physical contact he had had in a very long time. Anderson however did not let up. Sherlock slowly brought his arms up and wrapped them around Anderson's waist. "Sorry." he muttered into the man's ear."

Anderson shook his head against Sherlock's chest. Sherlock felt his entire body relax, being touched by another person. He hesitantly tilted Anderson's head up and brought his lips down upon his. The dog was walking around them in circles, whining in confusion. Anderson made to pull away but froze and then kissed him back, putting his hands on either side of his face. Sherlock pulled him closer so that their middles were touching. Still this wasn't natural. Its never something he would imagined doing with Anderson but at the moment, it was all he wanted. He pulled off his lips and groaned, leaning down to kiss his neck, biting lightly just behind his ear.

Anderson gripped Sherlock's coat and breathed heavily. "Sherlock…I…"

"Shutup." Sherlock muttered. "We aren't going to talk about it. We're just going to do it."

Anderson nodded in agreement. Sherlock pulled him back and behind some rocks so that people wouldn't see them if they came along. He shed his coat and sat down, pulling Anderson into his lap and pushing off his coat as well. Anderson moaned and held Sherlock's shoulders, pressing his lips firmly against Sherlock's again. Sherlock brought his hands up and buried them in Anderson's hair, darting his tongue out to press at his lips. He parted them and Sherlock's tongue slipped in, deeply. While still connected at the lips, Sherlock reached down and unbuckled Anderson's belt and trousers, pushing his hand inside and wrapping it around the man's cock. Anderson yelped and pulled his lips away, still holding onto his shoulders. He could feel his sweat rolling down his neck and his heart beating out of his chest. Sherlock started moving his hand and Anderson hummed in pleasure, resting his chin on Sherlock's shoulder and reaching his own hand down to do the same to him.

Sherlock inhaled sharply as he felt Anderson's hand start moving around his own prick. He wouldn't last long, he had never even done that to himself. He found himself bucking into Anderson's hand and moving his own hand in time around his cock. Only seconds later Sherlock collapsed forward, bringing Anderson to completion as well.

Afterwards, they zipped up their pants, pulled on their coats and sat there awkwardly. Sherlock glanced over at him after a few minutes. "That was actually…that was good." He muttered.

"Yeah…Yeah it was." Anderson responded. "Do um…do you still hate me as a person?"

Sherlock scoffed. "You know, I don't think I ever really did." He admitted.

Anderson smiled. "Cool. I guess I'm not allowed to tell anyone you're alive."

"No. Sorry. You still work at Scotland Yard?" He asked.

"No I quit about a month after you…died. I live up here now. Where do you live?" Anderson questioned, lying back on the sand and calling the dog, who had waited patiently outside.

She came trotting over and curled up on one side of him. Sherlock laid down as well, putting his arms behind his head.

"I sort of just roam about." He muttered.

"You're homeless?" He asked.

"I can't rent or buy without alerting my location. I'm fine." He insisted, though he really would like to stay in a home for at least one night.

"You can stay with me for a while." He whispered nervously. "If you want to."

Sherlock glanced over. "That would…yeah that would be great."