John made his way off the roof quickly and crossed the street. He watches the taxi turn a corner a ways away and made his way up the bright white stairs to the double doors. He went over to a man at a desk just inside the door and took a piece of paper and scribbling down his name, Mycroft's, and that's he's been there before. The man nodded and John started to jog to Mycroft's office.

His hand landed on the handle and was about to turn it when a sound reached his ears. Crying.

"Sherlock, calm down, please," Mycroft's soothing voice came from the other side of the door. John pressed his eat to the wood to hear better.

"I-I can't, Mycroft. H-he hates me! The l-love of my l-life h-hates me!" Sherlock sobbed.

John's heart clenched. Sherlock never sounded like this. He never cried in front of anyone if he could help it. He really hurt him...

"Love of your life?" Mycroft asked softly.

"He is! He's the o-only one I'll e-ever love!"

John couldn't stand it anymore. He opened the door slowly and went inside. The room was silent except for quiet sniffling from Sherlock. John made eye contact with Sherlock but didn't move towards him. His eyes were full of anger and pain and... Fear? Was that fear?

"S-Sherlock?" John asked slowly, watching the man flinch slightly as though he was about to hit him. "I'm so sorry... I... Can we talk?"

Sherlock looked up at Mycroft who understood immediately. He stood from his perch on the arm of the chair and exited the room, saying something about needing to go organize paperwork. John watched the door close behind the elder and then turned back to Sherlock, who was balled up in the chair. He took a few steps towards him than paused, the man flinching again.

"Sherlock..." John started slowly, his gaze only able to meet Sherlock's for a few seconds at a time before having to look down. "About what I said at the restaurant-"

"Don't bother..." Sherlock said, waving his hand and standing from the chair, moving over to Mycroft's desk. "I broke that skull and hurt you, and you broke me. Whatever you say now to increase my pain, I promise you, it won't work. I'm as broken as you can make me..."

John watched as a tear escaped from Sherlock's eyes and he scrubbed at it furiously. He felt his own eyes start to water.

"I... Don't love you, Sherlock..." John said slowly, shaking his head as he spoke. Sherlock looked up at him, his eyes darkening with pain and tears starting down his cheeks.

"I know..." He said slowly, nodding. "You've said that alread-"

"Let me finish," John whispered, moving towards Sherlock slowly. "You're loud, annoying, you act like a child, you do crazy, weird experiments everywhere you can. You get bored way too easily, you're clingy and messy and just an overall arrogant bastard," John said as he went up to stand right in front of Sherlock, who's tears ran freely now. He reached up to brush them away. "But you're also beautiful, amazing, brilliant, handsome, loving, caring, and, most importantly, the love of my life. I don't love you, Sherlock. It's so much more than that. Please, forgive me. I want to get our relationship back to normal... I want to get you back in my arms and mine again."

Sherlock looked deeply into John's eyes for a moment before gently pulling him into a tight hug. "You're the love of my life, too, John. And please, do take me back... Let me love you again."

"Please, do," John whispered before pulling Sherlock down and into his arms, kissing him deeply.