(no subject)

Irene had returned to London not long after Sherlock had jumped to his death. And while she didn't go to the funeral, or the grave, she sent a rose to his headstone, every single day for two long years. Just a lone rose with no note.

Of course she had known what she felt for him, even if she denied it most vehemently to herself. She had truly let her heart rule her head. It was easy to throw herself back into work, a new name. A lot of bribes to get her old home back. With Sherlock went Moriarty and most of the threat to her safety.

It wasn't until she saw word that Sherlock had returned that every single emotion came flooding back at once. He wasn't actually dead. It took her a few long days to get up the courage to go visit him. She needed to see him, to see the actual proof that he wasn't dead. And she had been casually watching John, she knew he didn't live at Baker Street anymore, she was safe to stop by.

Which is what she decided to do. Even as her hand shakes before knocking on the door to his apartment.