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nightmares

Wed, 26 Dec 2018 19:56:35 GMT

A few months had gone by after Sherlock's proposal and lately John Watson had been feeling like the happiest man in the world. However he hadn't heard a word from Mary. This was unsettling.

He'd deleted her number long ago so there was no way for her to get in contact. Even if was in contact with her he'd tell Sherlock. Surely if she'd spoken to Sherlock he'd say something.

But that was the thing with Mary. She could be capable of anything. And she had been silent lately. But if Sherlock noticed anything suspicious he'd know.

John awoke with a gasp. He had been startled by a nightmare, something that hadn't occurred much recently. Before he met Sherlock he'd have plenty of nightmares about the war. But these weren't dreams about the war.

He sat up, took a breath and tried to recollect his thoughts. Finally managing to calm down and assure himself, John shut his eyes and layed back down.

Just as he did Rosie began to cry from the other room. John sighed. "She must be having a nightmare too."

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Months gone by

Wed, 26 Dec 2018 19:49:17 GMT

"John." Sherlock mumbles sleepily from the couch, thoughts of his blogger on his mind. It's been a couple hours since he last shot up and the addict in him already considering another.

If he could quit, he would. He'd quit for John. Just for him. John is the most important thing in his life. He's a mess without him.

Months have gone by since he's last seen him, but right now John is the last person he wants to see. It's a lie obviously. He's desperate to have him back again. But he can't face the look in John's eyes, knowing perfectly well why his best friend in the entire world hates him.

"I killed your wife."

Love, marriage. He may not understand it but he loves John and he understands his pain. To put John through pain is like a shot through the heart, and with every dose of drugs injected into his system it numbs the pain.

Lazliy, Sherlock stretches an arm to reach for the phone. Part of him wants to call John. The other part just wants to call his dealer and go back to sleep.

He can't talk to John now, not after all that happened. But he's desperate and nervously picks up the phone to make the call. He waits anxiously, urgently needing to hear his voice.

But it doesn't pick up. Instead, somewhere in the flat a phone buzzes, soon left on voicemail.

"John?!" He immediately jumps up from the couch, heart beating nervously fast.

From the opposite side of the room is the figure of John Watson.

His blogger. His best and only friend.

Sherlock stares in awe.

'My Watson, how I've missed you.'

Nothing about him has changed. Still amazing as always. Perhaps ten times more. It's been so long but of course he could never forget that face. He's memorized it. He's memorized every bit of John Watson that he can. Nothing could be more important.

John's memory would forever be buried inside his heart.
And it would never ever leave.

John looks up to meet his eyes. As he does the detective looks away and wishes the drugs hadn't worn off so quickly.

He can't see John. He doesn't want to see it, whatever it is in his eyes. Anger? Sadness? Pain?

'I've hurt you John.'

Sherlock closes his eyes and hears John let out great sigh.

"I see your back to old habits."

Disapointment. Sherlock's heart sinks.

"Yes." Sherlock mumbles. He knows he's let John down.

The sound of John setting something down on the floor gains his attention. Suitcase?

Sherlock turns his head and makes a brief deduction.

'Yes, suitcase. Old, few scratches from taxi ride, packed three hours ago, taxi ride about a hour to thirty minutes. Taxi driver was female, blond, rather tall. Tried to give John her number. Declined the offer?'

Sherlock scans over him.
'Been having nightmares for the past four weeks. Tired. Lonely. Hasn't been sleeping. Packed specifically for an over night stay. Intends to stay over night. Missed me?'

Sherlock gazes into John's eyes and almost melts.

Sherlock opens his mouth and tries to think of what to say. "So....um...."

John coughs and breaks eye contact.
Sherlock looks to the floor.

"You planning to stay long?"

"Hm?"

As John begins off his coat Sherlock's eyes venture back to him. He can't tell if John's pretending he didn't hear or if he actually didn't hear. But whatever it was, he'll say it again.

He wants John back. Desperately.

But apparently John has heard because he answers. "Oh yes. Um, I just...thought I'd drop by to visit. Couple days maybe?"

Sherlock shruggs.

"Who knows."

Then there the silence. Its the moment he's been dreading. They'll have to talk about it eventually.

"Why have you come back?" Sherlock asks. He hopes to avoid any arguments as much as he can.

"Because." John stops and goes quiet. "Because I know you miss me."

"And so have you." Sherlock notes. "Wheres Rosie?"

"Babysitter." John explains.

"Oh."

John walks over to the fire place and picks up a picture frame siting above it. Sherlock remembers the photo well and clear. Its of them on the day of the wedding.

Just him and John.

"This was the only one we took together." John smiles. "Thought you would've thrown it out."

Sherlock smiles as well. He knows he'd never.

"Care for some tea?" The detective offers.

But John chuckles and shakes his head. "No. You need to get cleaned up first."

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Stag night

Wed, 26 Dec 2018 19:46:11 GMT

Frowning, John adjusts his shirt and looks into the mirror. He's not really looking forward to tonight. The stag night is tonight and that means tomorrow is the wedding.

Worst of all he'll be out partying with Sherlock all night. Just a painful reminder of his mistake in choosing Mary.

It took three years for him to recover from sherlock's death. Well, actually no, how could he recover? He'd always had feelings for Sherlock but now Sherlock would never know.

I love you. Those three little words, he'd never be able to tell him. Only had he whispered them at his grave, visiting nearly every week to drop by and say it, hoping each time he'd hear.

Every night started with a prayer for his return. And with each night, sleep became impossible. Even the slightest things reminded him of his presence. The smell of cigarettes, an empty chair, they were all memories.

Sherlock was everything. Without him, John had nothing. But now, Sherlock had returned. And John had Mary.

With a sigh, John unbuttons and puts on another shirt, deciding he didn't like the first one.

He knows he can't help but love Sherlock. But he's married to Mary now. Or will be soon. But at least he's got tonight. Maybe he can forget.

"Sherlock?!" He calls aloud as hes finally finished dressing and looks around his room. "You seen my phone anywhere?"

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