DISCLAIMER: I do not own.

A/N: This is an omegle RP. Rated T for kissing, swear words here and there, and mentions of torture if you squint. Just a fluffy reunion RP. Nothing dark.

Me: Sherlock.

Omegle Stranger : John.

He is alive. - (Unknown number.)

Who the hell do you think you are? JW

A friend. - ( unknown number)

I only had one friend, now he is bloody dead, I don't anymore. JW

I only have one friend too. Funny coincidence. - ( unknown number)

I guess. JW

I suppose in a way I lost my friend too. - ( unknown number)

How so? JW

Did yours jump off a bloody building after claiming he is a fake, but he really isn't? JW

No. I did not lose him through death. I lost him because I was trying to protect him. It feels like he has died though. And it crushes me every time I see him living his life without me by his side. I miss him. - ( unknown number)

I miss him too. Well, my friend. He was my best friend. I...should have gone up there. I should have done something. Who are you anyway? JW

I am nobody. I used to be somebody. I used to think I was invincible. I guess I was wrong. - ( unknown number) And you know that your friends death wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done. - ( unknown number)

I should have tried to save him. JW

He wouldn't have allowed you to save him. - ( unknown number)

Because he was an idiot. JW

Yes. I suppose he was. - ( unknown number)

I called him a machine the night before. JW I wish I could take it back. JW I wish I could take him back. JW

I'm sure if it was possible for him to return he would forgive you. - ( unknown number)

How are you so sure? You didn't know him. JW Well, bloody hell, did I even know him? JW

I don't think even he knew himself. - ( unknown number)

He was a mystery, wasn't he? JW

Apparently so. As you have pointed out I didn't know him. - ( unknown number)

Right yeah. JW

I have a regret too. About the last time I saw my friend. - ( unknown number)

What is that regret? JW

I told him I was better alone. I told him that alone protects me. I was wrong. I have been alone for so long now. Alone has almost gotten me killed on several occasions. - ( unknown number)

Stop it. Leave me alone. I don't even know why I am talking to you. JW

Because you are curious as to who I am. - ( unknown number)

Yes, because people seemed to have forgotten about me, and you... he said the same thing to me. JW Stop it. JW You aren't real. JW

I am very real.- ( unknown number) Would you like to meet? - ( unknown number)

We can talk in person. - ( unknown number)

I don't know you. You can be a murderer for all I know. JW

Come if convenient. - ( unknown number) If inconvenient come anyway. - ( unknown number)

[no reply]

It might be dangerous. I might be a murderer. But you will come. - ( unknown number)

I don't even know where we are meeting. JW

Do you remember the cafe that you and your friend first attended. Meet me there. - ( unknown number)

How the hell do you know that? JW

Are you going to be meeting me or not? - ( unknown number)

Now? JW

Now. - ( unknown number)

Alright. JW

Sherlock was waiting nervously in the small cafe. He wondered what John was going to say, what his reaction would be, whether he'd even want to see him after all he'd put John through. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, awaiting his friends arrival.

John clenched his hands into fists. It sounded so much like him. No. No. He was was dead. He /is/ dead. Other people say that too. Have said it. And as for what Sherlock told him the night before he died, well other people say that too. He grabbed his coat and pulled it on. He walked over to the small cafe, and saw him in the window. Sherlock. No. Just an allusion. Sit somewhere else. He told himself. He walked all the across from where the imaginary Sherlock was sitting and took a deep breath and waited for his mystery friend.

Sherlock blinked in surprise as he saw John simply walk past him like he was a ghost. In a way he supposed that's all he was to John now. A ghost. Maybe his appearance had changed too greatly for John to recognize him. Over the past three years he'd lost weight that he hadn't been able to afford to and was stick thin. His Curls had been cut back and were now shorter and a lighter brown. He was as different on the outside as he had become on the inside. He swallowed down hard and walked over to where John had sat, plonking himself cautiously on the seat opposite him. He didn't say anything, just stared at the blonde haired man intensely.

John looked at him, the ghost, a new version of the same ghost, pale, thin, lighter hair, shorter curls. He gave him a sad smile and looked back out the window. "Not now Sherlock, I might actually have a chance to make another friend. Not that I could ever replace you, it's just so hard..being alone." He sighed, and tapped his foot on the ground impatiently.

Sherlock raised his right eyebrow. "I know just as well as you that being is alone is hard. As I said over text. I was wrong in presuming alone would protect me."

He shook his head. "Leave me alone. I said not now. Haunt me later or whatever."

"Do I haunt you a lot?" Sherlock asked softly, looking on at his friend sorrowfully.

"Every night. You know that. Last night we were talking, it was actually quite nice. It was just like...old times." He mumbled.

Sherlock sighed and reached forwards, tentatively placing his bony hand over John's. "I'm sorry, my dear John. I owe you a thousand apologies."

John looked at Sherlocks hand, and then to him. It was him. Really really him. "I...Sherlock. Sherlock bloody Holmes." Is all he could make out, out of all the things running around in his mind.

"Hello, John." Sherlock gave him a sad smile. "Long time no see."

"Hello? Three years. Three years you've been dead, and all I get is a hello?" he asked, and got up. Pulling Sherlock up to, he wrapped his arms around him. "I missed you so much."

Sherlock froze in the hug but soon molded into the older man, hugging him just as tightly back. "Hello, how are you?" He whispered into John's blond mop of hair. "I've missed you just as equally."

"I am good. Great. Fucking great. I knew it. I knew you weren't a fake. I always believed in you. I still do." He muttered, and pulled out of the hug.

Sherlock grinned and huffed a laugh. "Even after all this time you haven't lost faith in me?"

"How could I?" He smiled back.

"So ..." Sherlock rubbed the back of his head with his hand awkwardly. "Where do we go from here?"

"You tell me." he mumbled. "I really don't know. I wasn't really planning on what to do when I met up with my actually alive- dead best friend."

Sherlock swallowed down hard, thinking of something to say. He was luckily saved by his stomach which decided to rumble loudly in that moment. "I suppose food wouldn't go amiss." He sighed. "It's been a good while since I've had anything to eat."

John nodded, and took a seat, "I'll order something, but maybe we should go somewhere else, this is just a cafe." he sighed and got up again. "Why has it been so long since you've ate?"

Sherlock plonked himself down and shrugged. "I just haven't been in the eating mood." He grumbled.

"Eating mood. You're never in the eating mood, but you're like a walking stick, Sherlock."

"I didn't have my blogger to remind me to eat." Sherlock said gently. "And besides I've been rather busy. Too busy to eat."

John gave Sherlock a little smile, and looked down. "Busy...?"

Sherlock hummed. "Yes. Busy .. er ... you know ... " He waved his hands up in the air. "Doing things."

"Doing what, Sherlock?"

Sherlock glanced away from John. "Making sure that you and the others I ... care about... were safe."

"Sherlock, what were you doing. Were you safe?'

Sherlock shrugged. "When am I ever safe, John?" He questioned.

"I was hoping always."

"Truthfully?" Sherlock pursed his lips and frowned. "I wasn't particularly safe."

"And it was my fault, wasn't it..."

Sherlock glanced back up at John. "Don't go blaming yourself."

"It was my fault. I know it was."

"No." Sherlock cut off his friend. "It is my fault. I care so much for you and Moriarty used that to his advantage."

"What did they do to you? Did they...Sherlock did they torture you..?" He bit his lip, and swallowed.

The detective licked his lips nervously but nodded. "Yes. Moriarty had a henchman. Sebastian Moran. He wasn't best pleased that his boss had killed himself over me. Lets just leave it at that."

He turned pale thinking about Sherlock getting tortured, and nodded. "I'm sorry..."

I should be the one apologizing." Sherlock's face creased in pain. "I left you all alone for three whole years."

"I...I wasn't exactly always alone...I met a girl. Her name is..Mary."

"I know." Sherlock said sadly. "She seems like a lovely girl."

"What do you mean you know?"

"I had to be sure that you were safe. So as soon as I escaped my torturers I came right back here. I've been watching you for a couple of weeks now." Sherlock looked on at John guiltily.

"She..she wants to get married, Sherlock. I..I..don't.."

"Don't what, John?" Sherlock asked gently, eyeing him carefully. "I thought your dream was to get married and have children. You should probably take this opportunity whilst it's presented to you."

"I don't want to get married to her. I don't love her that much, Sherlock."

Sherlock swallowed down hard and nodded in understanding. "Then don't get married. It's fairly simple."

"No, you don't understand, I don't even love her, I thought we were just friends, and then she kissed me two years ago, and now she want's to get married?"

"Then whom does your heart belong to?" Sherlock asked, inclining his head and thinning his lips.

He bit his lip, and looked away. "You."

"Me?" Sherlock asked, the question almost coming out as a squeak.

"You." he repeated. "I understand if you don't love me back. You've stated you are married to your work,"

"That was a long time ago." Sherlock mumbled. "Things change."

"They do. Yeah." John sighed.

"I thought that you said that you weren't ... gay?" Sherlock almost choked out.

"Do people forget people can be bisexual?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Sexuality was always a confusing thing for me. You either love someone or you don't. Simple."

"Exactly why I choose to be bisexual. I don't understand all of these labels, Just bloody love someone. Exactly."

"So ..." Sherlock trailed off. "If the feeling of love is mutual what is the next step you take?"

"If you do love me back, then we just continue on, and you'll be mine and I'll be yours."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." Sherlock snorted. "You've always been mine, John."

John blushed. "And you've always been mine, idiot."

"John, in case you completely missed what I was trying to imply; I love you too." Sherlock smirked, watching as John turned beet root red.

John smiled, and turned a deeper shade of red. "Right, Yes. Of course." he mumbled.

"I believe this is the part where we kiss." Sherlock stated, leaning forwards cautiously.

He chuckled, and leaned forwards to meet Sherlock in the middle of the table. "You're really an idiot." He smiled.

"Am I now? Would you like to show me just how much of an idiot I am?" He asked, tilting his head slightly.

"I'd love that actually." He smirked.

"You'll have to be the one to initiate." Sherlock whispered softly, hovering his lips nervously over John's. "I haven't kissed anyone before."John giggled, and then pressed his lips to Sherlock' kiss was soft and perfect. It lasted for what seemed like eternity but in Sherlock's opinion it didn't last long gave Sherlock another kiss, and then sat back in his seat. Has he been waiting for that long enough, yes. He licked his lips and hummed. "That was quite pleasurable." He noted out loud.

He chuckled, "Yes, it was. Now let me order you something before you die of starvation."

"I hardly think I'm about to die of starvation." Sherlock huffed. "But very well."

"What do you want? I'll go get it. Meanwhile, take my phone and tell Mary..what just happened, /please/." He said as he took out his phone and placed it next to Sherlock.

"You choose for me." Sherlock muttered as he picked up the phone. "What do I say to her?" He pondered out loud.

John shrugged. "Whatever you want." He said, and walked over to the line.

Sherlock frowned and stamped out a text that he hoped didn't lack too much tact before sending it off.

John walked back six or seven minutes later with two coffees and a desert for each. He smiled, and gave Sherlock his and he took a seat. "What'd she say?"

"I simply stated that as much as you like her it would be unjust for you to marry her, or to continue seeing her." Sherlock bit his lower lip. "I hope I didn't come across too harshly."

"No, that's fine. Did you tell her about you?" He asked as he took a sip of his coffee.

"No. I thought it unwise." Sherlock replied. "Besides, I'd really rather keep my 'I'm alive' secret between us."

"You do know you're in public. Right now. People can see you." John lowered his voice,

"People have forgotten me." Sherlock glanced around at the few people scattering the cafe. "Look at them. They're all so vacant."

"They are idiots. I wouldn't have forgotten a hero. I /didn't/ forget a hero."

"John, I'm no hero. I thought we've discussed this." Sherlock scolded him lightly. "But yes they are indeed idiots."

"You are a hero, and hero's do exist." He sighed. "If they didn't then why did you call me a 'war hero' before?"

Sherlock smiled fondly. "Because you have saved lives. That makes you a hero."

"You've saved lives. Bloody hell you saved my life." He smiled back.

"I suppose I did." Sherlock ran a hand through his short curls and stabbed into his pudding delicately with a fork. "There was Lestrade too, and Mrs Hudson."

"Two more. And all the other lives you saved, because of the cases. You, my love, are a hero."

"Love?" Sherlock questioned, a little taken aback by the term of endearment.

"Yeah love. Sorry if...that's.." he trailed off.

"No, Love is good. Love is brilliant." Sherlock leant forwards and pecked John on the lips.

He blushed again, and smiled. "Good."

"I need a pet name for you." Sherlock mused in amusement. "What shall I call you? Dear? Sweetheart? Darling?"

He chuckled, "Hm, I dunno whatever you like."

"How about I just call you what you are?" Sherlock grinned. "Mine."

He smiled, and bit his lip. "If that's what you wish."

"Mine." Sherlock practically growled. "All mine."

John smiled. "Yes, I'm all yours."

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