So here it begins- Too Much To Deduce! this is my first fanfiction, so I'm very excited!
Hope you'd like it :)
Enjoy :)

PROLOGUE

JOHN'S POV

"There's an east wind coming," I said, extremely satisfied to watch the plane land just a few moments after it took off, knowing that I didn't actually have to give up on my best friend again. I started to believe that I was the main reason for Sherlock almost disappearing again, and probably this time forever. There were so many things I wanted to say but never knew how, and frankly, I still have no idea. Even though not ten minutes earlier I was sure I was never going to see him again. I thought that this would be my only chance to speak up, but I blew it. Again.

Those are the same things I wanted to say when I thought he'd died, but never got the chance to. Even when Sherlock returned, I couldn't bring myself to tell him all that I wanted to say. All those thoughts about him, about us. All those awkward and difficult-to-explain thoughts and feelings and whatnot.

How many chances am I going to have to tell him? I got lucky once, and here's once again. But I don't think that I'll ever be lucky enough to have a third chance to blow it, so it's time to start thinking about finally speaking up. Even if he'll still be around and I'll have to deal with the consequences. But now is probably the wrong time to think about it; right now I need to think about the fact that Sherlock isn't leaving, and apparently Moriarty never left.

Sherlock killed Charles Augustus Magnussen for me - that is as clear to me as the fact that he would never admit it. Maybe for Mary, but never for me. We haven't spoken since, because Mycroft kept him hidden, 'under protection'. He took away his mobile phone, and wouldn't let me see him or talk to him. It seemed like longest week of my life. I missed Sherlock so much, that I frequently just read our texts from the start of our friendship. I used to do that quite a lot when I believed him to be dead. I knew that Mycroft was looking for some compromise on this delicate situation. Sherlock may have killed someone, but he also saved hundreds of lives and solved thousands of murders. There was no other way but for Sherlock to leave the country. Until, of course, Moriarty came back.

Everything seemed to blur together from the moment Sherlock shot Magnussen, until I was standing by the car trying to deduce how it is possible that Moriarty is still alive. The police never found the body, that I already knew. However, Sherlock said that Moriarty shot himself right in the head, and I'm quite sure that even Sherlock would have a great deal of difficulty faking that - especially with someone so observant watching every second of it.

But through all this confusion, I was almost happy to know that Moriarty was alive. So happy that I feel I could almost greet Moriarty as an old friend, and shake his hand as I thanked him for not being dead. If he were dead, nothing could have stopped that plane from taking Sherlock wherever he 'needed to be' - where I could never see him or even speak to him again.

Sherlock stepped off the plane with a very big smile, and spread his arms to hug Mary. Since he deduced that she was pregnant, he seemed to do that a lot.

"Seems like you will have to deal with me a while longer," Sherlock drawled, keeping his eyes fixed on me even as he hugged Mary and shook hands with Mycroft. He must have been very happy. His smile disappeared quickly enough, and his 'back to business' expression appeared on his face.

As if Sherlock's expression was some sort of a reminder to Mycroft, he stood up straighter - if indeed that was even possible - and said, "Brother mine, I think we have some work to do."