Johnlock: fact and fiction, part 5The moon was already high up in the sky before John and Sherlock walked home, their pace slower than usual.
“I told you we should’ve gotten a cab,” John said. Sherlock just shrugged and looked straight ahead.
“No need, I’m perfectly alright.”
“No, you’re not. You’re just hurting yourself by doing this.” And hurting me, in the process, John thought, but he didn’t say it out loud.
“Doing what, John?” Sherlock stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at John. John stopped as well. He was
getting a bit annoyed with Sherlock and his ‘all-is-fine’ act.
“This. Acting like everything’s alright, acting all high and mighty. And don’t say you’re fine, because you’re not and I can tell.” John was worried for his friend, because something was definitely wrong, and Sherlock just wouldn’t tell him what.
Sherlock sighed, turned around and continued his way. They we
Johnlock: fact and fiction, part 4Bloodied clothes. Gunshots in the distance. Cries for help everywhere.
Suddenly, a sharp pain enters in his left shoulder and the man falls down.
His vision begins to blur, until he sees a face. The face is milky white, soft skin, high cheekbones and dark curls.
The face smiles at him and nods.
“Thi- this can’t be true. You… you weren’t here when-“
Long fingers touch his lips and order him, politely, to be silent.
Then, the milky white hands help him up. There is no more pain now. Only the need to continue this fight.
John has found a reason to fight.
He wakes up, bathing in sweat, eyes wide open.
It was just a dream, John tells himself. But what was Sherlock doing there? He shouldn’t, no, couldn’t have been there.
John glanced at the alarm clock and turned onto his other side once again. He should sleep, not analyze a dream in the middle of the night.
He sighed and within moments the do
Johnlock: fact and fiction, part 3Both friends sat a moment in silent. The snow was outside, still falling. Luckily the fire was burning nicely and warming up the room.
At last Sherlock spoke. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he managed. John shrugged.
“I probably wasn’t her type anyway.”
Then, out of the blue, Sherlock sneezed and started to shiver. Damn, he thought, maybe a cold shower wasn’t such a good idea after all.
John looked at Sherlock. First his ankle, now a cold? But Sherlock rarely got sick.
“Did you go outside today? I told you to rest your leg, you never li-“ John began, as he put his cup of tea down on the table, but Sherlock cut him off.
“I didn’t,” he said firmly.
“I didn’t go outside today, because I knew you’d be furious if I did.”
“Oh,” John said, a bit surprised. “I’m sorry then, I’m just a bit on edge.”
“No it’s alright, John. I don’t b
Johnlock: fact and fiction, part 2John had a day off today, so he decided to visit his girlfriend Sarah. He had been kind of neglecting her
lately because of Sherlock and his cases. He got up, took a shower, put on his best clothes and walked into the kitchen. Sherlock wasn’t there, so John walked towards Sherlock’s room. He knocked on the door.
“Sherlock, can I come in?” he asked. He heard a muffled sound from the other side of the door and accepted that as a ‘yes’.
Sherlock lay diagonally in his bed, cradling a pillow close to his chest.
“Hey, how is your ankle?” John asked as he walked towards the bed.
“Nothing has changed much in four hours time.” Sherlock said, a bit condescending. John looked down on Sherlock and his pillow, and sighed.
“Well, I guess that is good news,” John said and walked towards the door. There he halted. Somehow he got the feeling that he hurt Sherlock in some way that he wasn’t aware of. He decided that he s
Johnlock: fact and fiction, part 1“Freak,” a voice said. But it didn’t stop there. The word continued to echo through his head. It gave him a
headache. Why were some people just so eager to judge other people?
“You don’t belong here,” another voice said. This voice, it sounded so familiar.
“You belong in hell. You deserve to die,” A face started to form in his head. “I don’t want you anymore,freak.”
Sherlock woke up from this terrible nightmare. He was sweating heavily. Then he started to remember parts of the dream, the voice, the words, the face. Oh god, the face. It was John. His best friend, his only friend, had said to Sherlock that he didn’t want him anymore.
Sherlock turned on his back and put his hands behind his head. Why did these words hurt him so much? It was only a dream, he told himself. There was nothing to worry about...
Sherlock took a glance at the alarm clock. 4.21 AM. John was probably in a deep sleep and Sherlock should