Daydream: A Collection of Random Stories

COPYRIGHT: ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO STEVEN MOFFAT, MARK GATISS, AND ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.

“Our friends define who we are as people, but it takes our best friends to change us into the people we want to be. Having a best friend is like owning the stars, it is both rare and impossible, but not so impossible that it doesn’t ever happen. They are the people that smile when we smile, laugh when we laugh, cry and we cry, but most of all they will stop at nothing to teach us what is right.”

-Anonymous

____________________________________________________________________________

Sometimes I think back to the days of my first adventures with my dearest friend John Watson. What if we hadn’t met at all? Would things have gone differently? I know one thing is for sure, I would not have stayed alive as long as I have. John was my saving grace in every sense of the word. He was the soldier that fought for his life when he needed to, and the Doctor that came to the rescue when I needed it most. He was the human that brought out the more caring side of me and the man that fixed my heart. But most of all he was the friend that I’ve always needed. Sometimes I think back to our meeting … what if that day was different? What if John had just walked away from me? What if I hadn’t reacted the way I had, or said the things I said? Would he have reacted the same way he did … or would he be living in his tiny little flat all by his lonesome struggling to survive? The possibilities of what could have resulted that day always flew across my mind rendering my weak and defenseless. In fact, sometimes even I can’t believe it had happened the way it had. Sometimes I have to replay it in my mind, wondering why the hell John had ever agreed to come with me after all I put him through. I remember the meeting now … the cold and dark feeling as I typed away on my computer, a brisk chill sweeping throughout the room. It had felt dangerous, as though an ominous presence were hiding in the room waiting to pounce on me and choke the very soul out of my body. I had no one to care for me, no one to love me or take me away from the sour rain cloud always dangling above me. In fact before John I had been depressed, and taking large amounts of cocaine. And as if that isn’t enough I had lost my heart to the devil ages ago. The winged beast had sat there perched on my shoulder waiting, clawing at me and leaving scratches in my flawless skin until finally the loneliness and hate had bubbled up to the surface and consumed me. The devil had watched, laughing at my broken body as it sunk to the ground unable to defend itself and finally it went in for the kill. It turned the scratches into a gaping hole, chortling all the while as blood seeped out of my body. The crimson color staining my skin as it trickled down me, landing on the pristine floor. It had grabbed my heart that day so long ago, leaving me as a shell of the person I once was. I just didn’t care anymore. I remember feeling as if I had nothing to live for. My life simply a never ending cycle of nothing. That is … until that day. Until a loud creak from the door opening disrupted my work, and the one and only Mike Stamford entered the morgue with a stranger. A stranger that had become one of my most trusted and most brilliant of friends over the years. At that moment I had felt annoyed, as though this was simply meeting yet another boring human being. But what I didn’t know was that this meeting would decide my future. Meeting John Watson set so many different things into place for me, and he had changed me into the person I am today. In fact meeting John had given me my best friend, and this my dear readers is how it all began.

______________________________________________________________________________

It was a cold, dark morning, nothing but a chill in the air and the brisk scent of danger spreading rapidly throughout the area. Today was nothing special, in fact it was just like any old day for me. Even the damp smell of the morgue was exactly the same. I sat in the same chair, in the same area, in the same building that I always sat at. Nothing different. Even my computer screen was lit up the same dismal white it always was as I typed away on it like always. I was bored out of my mind. After doing the same thing over and over again life just didn’t have an appeal to me anymore. It was like I was a puppet on a string, as though I just went through the motions that the puppet master put me through, but not actually getting to do exactly what I wanted. Not getting to really feel live, and live the way I wanted to. I was always sitting here, always waiting for the day to end, always waiting for the killer of the day to be caught, and most definitely waiting for when I’d finally be able to go home and divulge into my mind palace without the rest of public judging me. I was a scientist, not a detective. I saved lives with formulas, and different chemicals, not opinions and silly little deductions. And just like any day, the computer was my notebook … the place I logged every murder, and suicide, and serial killing galore. The place where I worked to find what family they had left, and what connections they had to the killer. Were they related? Married? Coworkers? This was where I figured it out, day in and day out using cold hard reason and fact. That’s where I was right now, using my skills, checking my databases and logging my data, not stopping once to take a break. Or at least I was … until the creak of the door signified that someone else had entered the morgue. I felt inclined to yell at whoever the hell felt the need to interrupt me, scold them for even thinking of walking into the room of a world renowned scientist … but when I glanced up from my work, I saw none other than Mike Stamford, (a Doctor that taught a few of the students here at the hospital.) walk in with a short, blonde haired gentleman. I must admit I was irritated to say the least that they had walked in unannounced, but I mean they did after all have every right to be here like I did. So instead of yelling at them, I simply shrugged my shoulders and went back to my work, awaiting for the pair to leave on their own accord.They had to leave, I mean … It was disrupting my work, and it was annoying the heck out of me. I hated meeting people, especially strangers. They were so normal … too normal in fact. Yeah, no I didn’t want to meet another stranger. Not here, and most certainly not now. But I knew better, and knowing how people worked I knew that for some reason I’d end up interacting with them. I was curious … and besides I needed to borrow somebody’s phone. Staying quiet wouldn’t help either issue it seemed, so interacting in the conversation would be the only way to get what I wanted.

“Bit Different from my day.” I heard the blonde hobbit remark, causing me to look up in curiosity. I watched as his blue grey eyes quickly scanned the area, his eyes darkening considerably as though he had remembered a very bad memory. What was he looking at that would cause such a reaction? It’s an empty room with white walls, a white tiled floor, and a bunch of drawers filled to the brim with dead corpses! There was nothing here even remotely interesting, not to a normal human being anyway. And certainly nothing to cause that kind of reaction. And what did he mean by different from his day? He looked the same exact age! What could he possibly mean with a comment like that?

“You’ve no idea.” Mike replied, looking towards John with a smile. It was odd, they were looking at the area as though they were reminiscing … but the stranger hasn’t been here before. Has he? No, he couldn’t have been. I remember everyone that has ever entered and left this building, and he was not one of them. I remember Mike, because he often brought students down here to show them the workings of a human body … but this man. I’d remember him, and yet I don’t. He hasn’t been here before, at least not from what I can remember, and I remembered EVERYTHING. I remembered every person, object, or animal I’ve ever encountered. Every person I’ve ever heard speak, any place I’ve ever been, even any phone I’ve ever touched. Speaking of phones …

“Mike can I borrow your phone?” I questioned, glancing up from my work and cutting into the conversation. It seemed like a good time as any, since they were simply commenting on the room. It wasn’t like they were having an actual conversation that was important or anything. In fact, I do believe I was saving them from total humiliation later when they realised that they were talking to each other about. A. MORGUE. What did society become these days … I mean really, people used technology so much now that they didn’t even know how to have a normal conversation! It’s so sad, I mean at least I had saved them from embarrassment later by interrupting them, and that was good and all, but I did after all need a phone, and who better to get one from then someone that was already in the room with me, obviously.

“Why? What’s wrong with yours?” Mike asked, looking at me in confusion. Yes, I know I owned a phone myself but Mycroft wouldn’t stop calling me! He wanted to talk, and I simply didn’t. He was wasting not only my time, but his as well. Not to mention, the constant buzzing of my phone was getting really annoying, therefore I had turned mine off and was inclined to solve our little disagreement the old fashioned way. Texting from a different number. It was the reason that I needed a phone with a different number in the first place. That way Mycroft wouldn’t recognize the number, yet, he would know it was me, and he would stop his incessant calling. It was a win, win situation, though the only way it would work is if I had a phone that was not mine for that matter.

“The signal isn’t working and I prefer to text.” I explained, giving him an irritated glare. Why did everyone need me to explain everything to them, why couldn’t they just figure it out themselves with their own brains! It was so annoying sometimes! Jesus, just give me the phone, and you can have me explain it to you later.

“Sorry, I left mine in my coat pocket. But I’m sure my friend John wouldn’t mind if you use his.” Alright, so Mike didn’t have a phone and the other man did. At least I’d be getting a phone one way or another. I just needed a phone, I didn’t care who from!

“Yeah, um … Here.” The man stuttered, offering me a nice looking phone. This man just trusted me with his possessions just like that? I could be a murderer, or a theif for all he knows. He was very trustworthy to just hand up something that expensive just like that, someone could take advantage of his trustworthiness, he needed to be more careful. Maybe I should thank him … do manners even apply to this situation? Oh hell, what does it matter!

“Thanks.” I replied, my mouth betraying me and thanking him anyways. I took the phone from his hands and began looking it over. It was a Nokia I think, in fact I’m pretty sure it is. Yeah, definitely a Nokia. And it’s from someone named Clara going from the inscription on the back. Nokia’s are very expensive phones, even a beaten up phone like this one probably cost a fortune. Only someone special would give someone something like that.

“How’s the wife?” I inquired, not even glancing up from the text I was now sending. Wife was the only explanation. He obviously didn’t buy the phone himself, otherwise the inscription wouldn’t be there in the first place. So that means that someone, probably a girl, and probably of special importance gave him this phone. Hence the reason I chose wife.

“Wait … What? What wife?” He replied, looking around in confusion as though I had been talking to somebody else.

“Going from your obvious limp and the look of this phone you have a wife. And apparently her name is Clara. Am I right?” I asked, explaining the details in a distracted manner. Not only was I trying to send a text, but now I was trying to both deduce the man and hold a conversation with him. I wasn’t even sure why I asked if I was right when I knew for a fact that I was. I was very intelligent … no … more than that I was a bloody genius. I was the one that …

“No, not at all.” John replied, cutting me off from my thoughtful little rant. Wait a minute … did he just say that I was wrong? Me. Wrong. What?!

“Do you have a wife?” I asked once again, hoping to god that I had just misheard him. It was after all entirely possible considering I wasn’t the best multitasker on the planet. Maybe he hadn’t even answered me yet, who knows? All I know is that this man … whoever he was had my full attention now … for the most part anyways. All I wanted to know is if I was right or not.

“No.” he confirmed, looking at me in entertainment. Was he enjoying my suffering? Is that why he came in here … to make me suffer and then laugh at my stupidity? Wait, a minute. Maybe that’s all this was the whole time, a rouse to get me to seem idiotic. I bet the man did have a wife and he was denying it to make me look stupider! He had to have a wife, it was the only explanation!

“Bit of a wife? A girlfriend? A fiancé? Come on work with me here.” I said in anger, looking at him like a mother would glare at a disobedient child. This was really getting on my nerves, who thought this would be funny in the first place? He had to have some female counterpart! Someone close enough to buy him such a sentimental gift! So the question was, who was she to him?

“Seriously, what are you doing? I don’t have any one of those things!” The man exclaimed, looking at me with so much confusion in his eyes that he looked lost. Alright … um, maybe this wasn’t just a joke to make me look stupid. Maybe this guy legit didn’t have a wife, and I had actually deduced him incorrectly. So, instead of just giving him one glance and deducing, I looked him up and down taking in as much as I could about the man. He walks weird … maybe he was bitten by a dog?

“Do you have a dog named Colin?” I asked him glancing up at his face and then looking back down at the phone, going back to my text.

“Are you being serious right now? What is this, what are you trying to do?” He asked me, looking me up and down as though I had pranked him, and any moment now a camera crew was going to jump out at him and shout ‘boo.’ He was acting like the most unintelligent man in the world. Did he really not know what deductions were? Why was he so confused? Besides that, why was he acting so annoying?

“Shut up, I’m making deductions. It’s very exciting. Now who is he Mike? A worker? A boyfriend? A student?” I questioned looking up towards Mike, ignoring the appalled face the man sent my way.

“This is my old friend John Watson, though I already told you that. We went to school together.” Mike replied, gesturing over to the man I now knew as John Watson. Alright I knew his name now, good, now I could stop calling him ‘the man’. Though, I wouldn’t mind that, it sounded like an interesting title to say the least. Wait a second … did Mike just say he went to school with John? Mike was a doctor right? So did that mean that John was one as well?

“So you’re a doctor then?” I inquired, now looking over towards John trying to get at least one of my deductions of the day right. It made sense, I mean he did have the trust, as well as the tenacity to become a doctor. That means I’m right … right?

“No, actually.” I heard John reply, causing me to look up from the phone with an irritated expression lighting up my features.

“Oh come on! Seriously! I just can’t get anything right today!” I yelled in exasperation, slamming my fist down onto the table in a fit of anger. How was he not a doctor, it didn’t make any sense?! If Mike said that he went to school with John, and Mike went to school to become a Doctor, then how come John wasn’t a doctor as well?

“I’m not a doctor because I failed my exams so I joined the army instead.” John explained, looking over towards me. I looked him up and down, looking straight at the tan that was on his arms and the very military way he stood.

“Wait, wait, wait. I got it! Going from your stance and the obvious tan on your arms and hands you were most likely in the army. Am I right this time?” I asked him, now going back to my text with a very happy smirk on my face. There was no denying it this time, I had to be right. I just had to be!

“Yes, of course you’re right, I just said I worked in the army. You already knew that.” John replied, his voice holding obvious tones of both confusion and sass. Does he really think that he had told me everything? No he didn’t! What kind of man did he think he was?! I deduced that information off of him, he was just too stupid to realize that.

“No you didn’t. I deduced it off of you.” I explained, looking over towards John as I set the record straight.

“I just said the same … never mind.” John replied, or at least partially replied. He didn’t even finish his sentence. Who does that? And what was he going to say in the first place? It was most definitely something of importance. Not that it mattered anymore.

“So what brings you two to the morgue? Wait let me guess …”

“We’re here because I’m looking for a flatmate and apparently you are too.” He said explaining his reasoning behind coming to the morgue. Alright a flatmate. That’s the last thing I would have expected from a man like John to be here for. But hey, I needed a flatmate that would be able to live with me, quirks and all.

“Yes, I indeed am. How do you feel about the violin?” I questioned looking up from the text I had now sent to Mycroft.

“Wait a minute … violin? Where did that come from?” John asked me, surprised and a little bit confused at my very random question.

“Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other. So back to what I was saying … Violin? Would it bother you?” I asked him yet again, raising my eyebrows at him in question. My violin was my most prized possession, in fact I played it quite often. I needed to play it, otherwise I didn’t feel like me anymore.

“Um … I don’t think so.” John replied, his voice unsure as though he wasn’t quite sure of his answer. It was a simple yes or no question, either he liked violins or he didn’t there was nothing to be unsure about!

“Good. I’ve got my eye on a nice little place in the center of London, together we ought to afford it.” I told him, handing him his phone back and grabbing my coat from the hook as I did so.

“We’ll meet there tomorrow evening; seven o’clock. Sorry- gotta dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary.” I continued, giving him a tiny smile as I closed my laptop and began to head towards the door.

“Is that it?” John questioned, looking towards me in confusion yet again.

“Is that what?”

“We’ve only just met and we’re going to look at a flat together.” John replied, giving me a look of surprise.

“Yeah, why? Is that a problem?”

“We don’t know a thing about each other; I don’t know where we’re meeting; I don’t even know your name.” John replied, looking at me with a small amused smile.

“I know that your name is John, you are a soldier coming back from the war for some reason or another. You are good friends with Mike and you went to school here, though you failed your exams so you never became a doctor. I know that you don’t have a wife, girlfriend, fiancé or a dog named Colin and I know that you know somebody by the name of Clara. That’s enough to be going on with don’t you think?” I explained, giving him a small smirk as I walked back over to the door and opened it, walking through.

“The name’s Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street.” I said, winking at him, leaning back out the door.

______________________________________________________________________________

It had been an extremely tedious day. In fact it had been just like all the other days! There was nothing interesting about it at all! I had woken up, eaten breakfast, hailed a cab, gone to work, solved a murder before dinner, and then hailed a cab to go home. The only difference was this time I was going to meet John Watson at my home to see if possibly he would like to move in with me. John was a very interesting man to say the least, he was nice, and trustworthy, and he didn’t run away from me or call me a freak which was always a plus! Over all he seemed like a very nice addition to my little team … or at least the group of people I usually hang around with. Everyone else was either mean to me, or just a little too obsessed with me for my tastes. And John … well John was neither of those things which made us very well matched for flatmates. I glanced out the window of the cab, watching as the scenery around me went from rushed blobs of color to actual objects, the cab slowing down to a stop outside of 221B Baker Street were I saw John standing there awaiting my arrival.

“Ah, Mr. Holmes.” I heard him say as I opened the cab door and stepped out. Making sure to pay the cabbie on my way over to John. Mr. Holmes? Was John actually being serious, that sounded more like an old man’s name … in fact it rather reminded me of my father so why in world would John ever greet me in such a way? I mean I knew that he was trying to be polite … but really?

“Sherlock, please.” I replied, shaking hands with the man, trying my best to correct him. If we were going to be sharing a flat together I was not going to allow him to call me Mr.Holmes. That was my father … maybe even my brother. But definitely NOT me. I was Sherlock simple as that.

“Well, this is a prime spot. Must be expensive.” John spoke up, taking me away from my thoughts. Yes, well it was expensive. Just not this particular flat.

“Oh, Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, she’s giving me a special deal. Owes me a favor. A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out.” I explained, going to knock on the door of the flat. Knowing Mrs. Hudson and helping her get away from her rotten lifestyle had really helped me in the long run. It simply meant that now I could rent a flat for little to no money. The only problem was I wasn’t in a job that actually paid me any money, so the result was finding a flatmate like John that had a nice stable job that could at least pay the rent.

“Sorry – you stopped her husband being executed?”

“Oh no. I ensured it.” I corrected, giving him a small smile. The door opening not long after. Mrs. Hudson walked out of the door. Yes, I made sure the terrible man died. He had caused sweet, innocent Mrs.Hudson to do things she most definitely did not want to do, and it was hurting her to break the law for a man that only kept her as a punching bag. He needed to be stopped and that was exactly what Sherlock had made sure of.

“Sherlock, hello.” She said with an extremely happy smile set on her lips, going to give me a hug against my will. Yes, she was a hugger, but just because I hugged her back did not mean that I cared for her. Not one bit. She’s just been through so much throughout her life, and well … she needs someone to keep her spirits up. Someone that will hug back when she feels the need to show her emotions. And that someone just happened to be me.

“Mrs. Hudson, John Watson.” I said, introducing the pair to one another. Watching as they greeted each other, as my thoughts began drifting off to the first time I had met Mrs. Hudson so long ago. We were in Tampa Bay and when I say we I mean me and Mycroft. It was our first vacation in a really long time as a family, and I was very excited. Keep in mind I was a very … caring person then. In fact I was as normal as normal could be. And just like any old tourist I had wanted to do everything, go to the beach, water skiing, maybe meet a nice girl. But instead of waves and sand like I had expected when we had arrived at the beach instead I had found poor Mrs. Hudson being smacked around by her husband. I don’t quite know why, but somehow just seeing that had made my blood boil … no gentlemen should ever smack a lady, and not a lady that old and fragile. I had stomped up to the man my brother following quickly behind him as we confronted him on the subject. A few minutes and Mycroft’s deductions later I was sitting next to a very shaken Mrs. Hudson while her husband was beheaded by county police due to Mycroft’s position in the government. I sat there holding this poor woman, consoling her as her horrid life crashed down upon her very shoulders, rendering her confused and weak on what to do next. If it weren’t for Me and Mycroft she’d probably be dead by now. I’ll tell you what though she had definitely been worth saving.

“Come in.” I heard Mrs. Hudson say gesturing for us to enter, snapping me out of my previous thoughts. We entered after her, John making sure to close the door politely behind him as I rushed up the stairs to my flat. I waited at the door, wanting to make the best impression possible to John. After a good five minutes of waiting for my injured friend finally he made it up, causing me to thrust open the door, revealing, quite dramatically I might add, my flat that I hoped to share with the man. I watched as he looked around him soaking in everything, from the tiniest cylinder to the biggest box.

“Well, this could be very nice. Very nice indeed.” I heard John reply, still looking around him in awe of how nice the place was.

“Yes. Yes, I think so. My thoughts precisely.” I said happily looking around the place that I called home. I mean the first time I had seen it, it had felt like home to me. It had been so spacious and clean, and the walls were the perfect color to add character to this drabby old place. It was perfect for a scientist like me!

“So I went straight ahead and moved in.” I continued, listening as John said something about cleaning up the rubbish in the flat first. Wait a minute … rubbish? All of this was my stuff. It was just in boxes to make it look more orderly. What else was I supposed to do with it all, give it away?

“So this is all …” He said trailing off in embarrassment, looking towards the ground in shame at what he had said.

“Well, obviously I can, um, straighten things up a bit.” I said, trying my best to clean up the place. If he thought this was messy, he was seriously going to flip out when he started to find body parts in the fridge, and poisons around the flat. Because to be honest this was truly the cleanest I would ever be.

“What about these suicides then, Sherlock? I thought that’d be right up your street. Three exactly the same.” Mrs. Hudson asked me, walking into the room from the kitchen with two cups of tea in her hands and a smile on her face.

“Yes. It indeed is.” I replied to her, walking over to the living room windows and looking out to where a police car now stood, lights blinking and all. Murders seemed to be my claim to fame, and the thing I liked studying most. Especially stuff that was unique like the new linked suicides that the police were investigating. In fact speaking of police, what was Lestrade doing here?

“What do you need Lestrade?” I said turning to him, listening as his footsteps stopped at the door.

“Brixton, Lauriston Gardens. There’s another one. Will you come?” Lestrade asked, looking towards me with hope splattered across his face. He honest to god needed help if he was coming to me now. I wasn’t a part of his case or at least not until now, and usually he only came to me when there was no other choice. He needed me to come with him.

“Who’s on forensics?”

“It’s Anderson.” Lestrade replied, looking towards me with regret. Anderson! No, no, no Anderson won’t do, not at all.

“Anderson won’t work with me. And I need a helper.” I said grimacing at the very thought of working with Anderson. He was some master genius, in fact he had the highest IQ in London other than my brother. He could have become the king of London if he wanted, yet he chose to work in forensics instead and bother the heck out of me. He was so annoying I couldn’t even stand to look at him. No, I needed someone that could give compliments and follow me around for the sake of it.

“I’ll come with you.” John spoke up from behind me, looking towards me with interest. John wanted to come with me? To a crime scene? Hey if he wanted to go that was fine with me, he was quiet and trustworthy, and he knew how to shoot a bullet if it ended up turning into a fight.

“Fine. Good. That’s settled then. I’ll be right behind you.” I said, glancing back over to Lestrade. Watching as he went to exit with a smile of relief on his face.

“Thank you.” Lestrade replied, running out towards his police car. The two of us following not long after and hailing a cab to take us to the crime scene.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had quickly realized today just how much of an amazing person John was. Not long after we had exited the cab and entering the building had we had come face to face with Sally Donovan … the evil beyond all evils. She was always so rude to me because I was different. Always calling me freak, and weirdo, and psychopath. And she could have today as well … if John hadn’t told her off about it beforehand. She had called me a freak just once, and so quietly that no one except her and I could hear … or at least I had thought. John had heard it too, and trust me he was beyond angry. He had told her out then and then telling her that a bully only hurt other people because they feel bad about themselves. That had definitely gotten her to shut up. I can’t believe he had stood up for me. Me. Just an annoying uncaring nobody. Yet, he had stood up for me and put Donovan in her place.He had conquered one of my dragons all for the sake of helping me out! I really hoped that John chose to share the flat with me. He was an amazing man with excellent talents. And talents I would not waste. Though … I did need him to blend in so he didn’t arouse any suspicion. I needed a disguise.

“You need to wear one of these.” I said to John, holding up a cover suit and handing it to him. I looked around the place, barely even noticing as John looked towards me. It was a nice place, with red wallpaper, and a creamy white carpet … in fact it looked rather like a place royalty would sleep more so then a regular person. It must have been one of the nicer block of flats.

“So where are we?” I asked Lestrade. There obviously wasn’t a body here so it had to be somewhere else. Which meant it was either down in the basement or up in one of the flats.

“It’s upstairs.” He said leading us up a circular staircase towards a hallway filled with different flats. We walked down a long cream colored hallway, the hallway showing no results of either a struggle or a body dump, which meant that the man was killed inside his home.

“His name’s Eddie Van Coon according to his credit cards. We’re running them now for contact details. Hasn’t been here long. The woman that lives above him found him.” Lestrade explained, giving us a detailed description of what they had found so far. I went over to the body, trying to come up with some sort of information. He was shot in the head? No too simple, they knew that already. Um … he is a male in his twenties? No … still very elementary. Ugh! What should I do? I couldn’t deduce a single thing off of him. Wait! Mycroft could help me. I whisked out my phone, the pair of them watching as I took a picture of the body and quickly sent it to Mycroft, awaiting for a reply from him. When he finally did reply not more than a minute later I read it, looking towards the body with a smile. This was more than enough information to make me seem smart!

“D’you think he’d lost a lot of money? I mean, suicide is pretty common among City boys.” I heard John say, His face immediately morphing into an upset expression, sad at the depressing way the body was just laying there for all to see. Everyone took death so badly, as if someone dying was such a bad thing. All it meant was that someone was too weak to live in a harsh world such as our own. Deaths happened all the time, in fact 1.8 of the human population died every single second. They were a constant thing as well as inevitable. We’re born, we live, we reproduce, we die. It’s the circle of life, and it is something that won’t ever change. So what’s the point in mourning a dead person, when inevitably you’ll be dead soon yourself? And besides, didn’t John see bodies dropping daily, he was after all a soldier. Shouldn’t this just be an everyday thing for him?

“It isn’t a suicide.” I said, looking at John with a happy smirk.

“I’m sorry, what?” John replayed looking at me in confusion.

“This isn’t a suicide.” I restated, looking over towards the mangled body.

“Wait, what do you mean, not a suicide? He shot himself in the head and the gun’s there on the bed with him.” Lestrade chimed in, looking towards me and then back over towards the body in appalement.

“Yes, but he’s right handed.” I explained remembering exactly what the text had said.

“So?” John questioned, still confused about the whole ordeal. What was it like in their tiny minds, it must be so vacant. Was it nice not being me?

“So, how would a right handed person shoot themselves in the left side of the head?” I inquired, watching as the two finally understood, a look of recognition set on their faces.

“Not only that, but this guy was a banker at Shad Sanderson bank one of the most known banks in the country. Why in the world would the guy off himself?” I explained, questioning why a man that was that rich would ever want to kill themselves. It didn’t make any sense.

“Maybe he had money issues.”

“Not likely. He was a very rich man with a very clean record.” I exclaimed, looking towards the body once again, as though I was examining it.

“That’s true there wasn’t any record of drug abuse or anything of the sort.” Lestrade confirmed, giving me a very impressed look.

“Wait a minute … yesterday morning you couldn’t deduce a single thing off of me, and now all of a sudden you’re a genius. Something’s wrong with this picture.” John accused, looking towards me in curiosity.

“I just had a bad morning yesterday is all.” I explained, trying my best to give him a liable excuse.

“Oh really, then who were you texting a few minutes ago?” He replied, placing his hands angrily across his chest. He was on to me, he knew something.

“My brother texted me regarding a family issue. Nothing more.” I said flippantly, giving him an icy stare.

“Uh huh. And why did you take a picture of the body?” He questioned, pointing towards the phone that I still held in my hand.

“Oh, That’s how he figures this stuff out. He always takes a picture to see if his injuries are similar to another corpse’s in case we have a serial killer on our hands. It helps us out quite a lot on occasion.” Lestrade stepped in, explaining the situation to John.

“That’s all, really? Sorry, don’t mind me. I guess I’m just jumping to conclusions.” John replied, looking towards me apologetically, a soft red appearing on his cheeks from embarrassment yet again today.

“So does that mean that these suicides are linked?” Lestrade asked me, pointing out the fact that I had indeed used my phone. Naturally, I took pictures at every single crime scene, though usually they didn’t notice, and even if they did it was usually linked to some other murder. I mean killers did usually kill more than one person at a time, they weren’t called murderers for nothing.

“Somehow, someway, yes they are. Even if they seem different I’ve seen this pattern of killing somewhere before.” I said just before my phone interrupted me and rang. I glanced down at it, a picture of a very familiar high school pool glaring at me.

“Now I remember where I’ve seen this killing before.” I said aloud, looking towards the other two in realization.

“Where?” Lestrade questioned, looking towards me in surprise. I know that this is the quickest that I’ve ever solved anything for that matter, but did he really need to be surprised by it all?

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that someone else is going to die if we don’t stop this killer as soon as we possibly can.” I said rolling my eyes at the two. I needed to go and stop him now, I was after all summoned. This was his trademark style after all.

“Wait … someone else is going to die? Who? When? Where?” Lestrade inquired, looking at me in utter confusion as I ran out the door, running down the stairs at a rapid pace. The other two following behind me as fast as they could manage.

“You can’t just run away without telling us Sherlock. Who’s going to die?” Lestrade questioned in irritation. It was as if he hadn’t realized who he was working with. I ran off without giving any explanation all the time! So why was what I have to say so important this time around?

“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. John, we need to go now.” I said, running down the last couple of steps as carefully as I could manage. My mind scattered with all the different information that was shooting through my head at a million miles an hour.

“Go where.” John asked me, his pace just a tiny bit slower than mine due to his cane.

“Don’t ask questions, just follow me.” I replied running out the door, not even registering the fact that John had stopped a while back to talk to Lestrade.

“Sorry about his behavior. I’m sure he didn’t mean to be that rude.” I heard John say apologetically to Lestrade.

“Thanks and all, but that isn’t the first time he’s done that.” Lestrade answered, his tone grumpy.

“Come on John!” I screamed into the building, cutting into the obviously sappy apology.

“I’m coming.” I heard him reply rushing to reach the cab that I had now hailed and was getting into. I scooted over leaving room for John as he hobbled over, getting into the car as best as he could.

“So what was all that about?” John asked me, trying his best to regain his breath.

“What?”

“Rushing off, not even telling us what’s going on.” John explained, looking towards me in all seriousness.

“I know who killed those people.” I blurted out, looking at the picture on my phone yet again in distraction.

“What was the phone call about then?”

“The killer was sending me a message, that’s all it was.” I exclaimed, still staring distractingly towards the picture of the pool. I knew that pool, I’ve seen it somewhere before. Was it from one of my past cases? Yes, it had to be. But the question was which one? I’ve gone through so many … and I’ve already deleted a good half of them from my mind palace to make room. But that pool looked so familiar … where was it from? Hold on a second … pool, connected murders made to look like suicides. This pool was from the series of cases that I’ve solved involving Moriarty. Which means … he’s back.

“Wait he sent you a message?!” John loudly answered in surprise, causing me to look up from my phone from the sudden outburst of noise.

“Yes.” I confirmed, going back to my phone, as I tried to remember exactly what had happened during that case. Four different attempted murders that were planned out accordingly to make me dance. Or at least that’s how he had described it when we had met at the pool. It was a threat … all of it was just to get me to back off.

“And you didn’t bother to tell the police that?” John said in shock, looking at me as though I was insane.

“I did tell the police. I told them there was going to be another murder.” I explained, confused as to why John was so mad over something so tiny. I did exactly what’s he saying I didn’t do at all.

“Wait … what? How is that explaining anything to them? Anyone could have guessed that a killer was going to kill someone. It’s common sense, it’s what killers do.” John explained trying his best to get me to understand some point or another that he was trying to get across.

“Yes, well what the police didn’t know is that I also told them who.” I told him, rolling my eyes at his stupid lecture that he was trying to give me.

“No, no you didn’t. You said someone was going to be killed. No name, no place. Nothing.” John said to me, looking my way in irritation.

“Yet no one thought that maybe I didn’t say any names because I was the next victim.” I said in a monotone sort of way. Yes, I was the victim. He obviously wanted me back at the pool which was the same place he had threatened me telling me he would kill me if I got in his way again. So he obviously wanted to kill me.

“You’re the next victim?!! How the hell do you know that?!” John screamed at me, widening his eyes at what he thought was calm behavior. I wasn’t calm, well I was but for different reasons. I knew Moriarty, he was a very original killer. He didn’t repeat himself more than once. So maybe he wasn’t going to kill me at the pool, I still had a chance to persuade him to let me go, maybe plan out a way to fake my death.

“Because he sent me a message remember.” I said slowly, trying to get him to see reason in why I was reacting the way I was.

“And the murderer just happened to casually tell you that you’re the next one that’s he going to kill?”

“Well, sort of. He sent me this.” I said, holding up the picture of the pool on my phone for him to see.

“He sent you a picture of a high school pool and you just automatically believe that he’s going to kill you? Are you high? What … are pools the sign of death or something?” John questioned, staring at me in disbelief.

“No, but I know how this killer works. To him this is all a game. I’ve dealt with him before a long time ago. He would send us pictures of the people he was going to kill and we had to figure out when and where before time ran out, otherwise he would kill them.” I explained, clearly remembering what had happened the first time I had had a run in with this particular murderer.

“But why would he send you a pool though? Unless he’s going to murder the pool?” John exclaimed incredulously, looking at me with doubt in his eyes.

“No, he isn’t that insane. He sent me the picture of a pool because he can’t send me a picture of myself. He sent me where he’s going to kill me, and that’s where we’re going now.” I said, explaining exactly why the murderer had sent a pool versus his usual picture of the victim.

“So let me get this straight. A murderer that wants to kill you sent you a picture of where he wants to kill you and you’re just going to show up?!!” John yelled out, very disbelieving of why I would ever do that.

“It’s a game John, I need to stop him before he kills someone else. Is there a problem with that?” I questioned.

“Yes!!! My flatmate is insane and heading towards his death because he was invited! There is a huge problem with that!” John screamed, causing the cabbie to look back at us in annoyance. Wait a second did he say flatmate.

“So you are going to take the flat?” I asked, looking at him with hope shining in my eyes.

“Well yeah, but I don’t think it matters now that you’re going to kill yourself! I’ll be stuck paying the rent myself anyways!” John exclaimed, over enunciating everything, his eyes wide from disbelief that I’d ever doing something as stupid as going to my death.

“Calm down, I’m not going to kill myself. If anything the murderer would kill me. I said, rolling my eyes at his overdramatics. He was a real drama queen there was no doubt about that. He was blowing this way out of proportions, all I was doing was going to have a nice little chat with a murderer. It wasn’t like I was going to jump off a building or anything, geez.

You utter prick!” John shouted at me, giving me a death glare.

“I’ll be fine! I do this sort of thing all the time.” I said flippantly.

“Yes, well you don’t end up with a bullet through your skull now do you?” John question sarcastically, giving me a knowing look.

“I’ll be a minute or two. Just stay put.” I told him, getting out of the cab, right as it stopped around the back of the pool. If this was going to go at all to plan I would need to get him to stay here. It would be the only way to keep him safe.

“No, why in the world would I do that. No.” John replied, going to get out himself.

“If he knew that I brought someone with me he’d kill you too.” I explained, giving him a look.

“But what about you?” He questioned back, very much worried about me. I was new to this feeling. The feeling that someone actually cared about me. This never happened, not to me at least. No one ever gave me much thought and I was always surrounded by hate, being called a freak and all. But I liked this feeling, having someone actually enjoying my presence and wanting me safe, and feeling that way in return. It was nice for a change.

“Like I said, I’ll be fine. I’ll be back in five minutes’ tops.” I said to him, giving him a small reassuring smile.

“Fine, just don’t get yourself killed.” He replied, giving me a pointed look.

“Thank you.” I mumbled quietly, my mouth betraying me yet again and doing something very much out of the norm for me. Being around John, even for the short amount of time we’ve known each other has really changed me. He was slowly turning me into the old me, the me that cared. And honest to god, it scared me.

“If you’re not back in ten minutes I’m coming in after you.” John warned me, his kind eyes telling me that he wanted me safe.

“How reassuring. Now stay in the cab.” I demanded, giving John little room for argument. I needed him safe. I closed the cab door, making sure to tell the cabbie that I’d be back momentarily and to stay there for the time being, then I walked away to meet my doom.

______________________________________________________________________________

Everything had been going wonderfully for John … but I mean he was after all simply sitting in a cab waiting for Sherlock to return. It wasn’t like he was the one going to meet a murderous killer. I mean sitting in a cab wasn’t that eventful was it , all it was was waiting. Nothing dangerous about that … well at least it had seemed so. It was only a few minutes later where things started to go wrong for the youngest Watson. The cab had started up and as if the cabbie hadn’t heard a thing Sherlock had told him, the cabbie had decided to drive the cab away from the pool , leaving Sherlock there with a killer ALONE!

“No, stop. Go back. I’m waiting for a friend.” John said to the cabbie, trying his best to get him to stop. He needed to go back for Sherlock, he needed to make sure he didn’t get himself killed!

“Can’t you hear me? I said to stop the cab.” I said to the Cabbie, a tiny bit louder this time. I needed to go back. It was as if he were being ignored .... no worse, it was as if he heard my incessant demands and he was trying to do the complete opposite of them. I told him to slow down, and all he did was speed up. Not even the doors were unlocking for him, it’s as if he were about to die.

“Let me out of the cab! What the hell are you doing?” John demanded, knocking on the glass in front of him to get the attention of the cabbie. The cab slowed down at this point, John not even sure where in the name hell they were at this point as he hadn’t been paying attention.

“Get out of the car slowly.” The man that was the cabbie said to John, holding a gun at him.

“Who the hell are you?” John asked, confusion evident in his voice. This obviously had to do with the case. He realized now that Sherlock wasn’t the one in danger, he was.

“Moran. Sebastian Moran. Now get out of the car.” Sebastian stated, giving John a cold glare. From the look of him, and the way he stood, he seemed military … most likely ex military. But it meant one thing either he was kicked out or he left, either way John was screwed.

“What did I ever do to deserve this?” John mumbled, exciting the cab rather sluggishly, rolling his eyes at the annoyance he had towards the situation.

“Now walk.” Moran demanded, holding the gun to John’s back. Being military there was no doubt in John’s mind that not only would he kill if he had to, but he also wouldn’t miss. He was a perfect shot, so running away was not an option. John was heading to his death and it was all due to one Sherlock Holmes and meeting the guy.

______________________________________________________________________________

I had entered through the back door, walking through the locker rooms towards the pool. The pool I had gone to meet Moriarty at no more than two and a half years ago. I still remember how young I was then … young and arrogant. I thought I could win anything … defeat any enemy that life threw my way. But not him. Not Moriarty. His game was too elaborate, too genius for even a mind like mine. He knew me too well, he knew what my next move would be, what made me tick the most. And at that pool two and a half years ago I had lost. Now, here we were again yet another game to play. And this time I knew better.

“I’m here, James. You can come out now.” I said, looking around for the man I knew as the murderer. He was hiding here somewhere there was no doubt, he wouldn’t just send me here for no reason whatsoever, no that wasn’t his style. He was here, I could feel it.

“Ah, hello there Sherly boy. I didn’t think you’d show up.” Jim exclaimed in his unique irish accent, stepping out of the shadows from the other side of the pool.

“The minute you sent that picture you knew I was going to come.” I said, pulling the gun out of my trousers pocket, keeping a close eye on Jim so he didn’t try anything.

“Yeah, ok, I did. So how’d you like my present?” He replied with a crazy grin. Wait a minute … present?

“What present?” I asked, confused as to what he meant.

“Those four people I had killed to get you to show up.” Jim explained, looking towards me with insanity glimmering in his eyes. He thought that was a present? Where in anywhere in the world would that ever be considered a present?

“That’s what you call a gift?” I questioned, giving him a disgusted look. I thought he had run out of ways to make me sick, but hello again. He thought dead corpses were presents? That’s just borderline insane.

“Oh, picky now are we. You didn’t mind last time.” Jim exclaimed, raising his eyebrows at me in entertainment.

“People didn’t get hurt last time, Jim. This time people have died!” I replied back, a hint of remorse seeping into my voice. This was sick, all of it. Those people with lives and a family and friends had died abruptly all because Moriarty wanted to make an impression. And worst yet it was all because of me.

“That’s what people DO!” Jim said, shouting the last word in an abrupt change in personality. He was really insane, and bipolar when it came down to it.

“Yes, well they shouldn’t have died at the hands of you.” I corrected, looking at Jim with disdain clearly in my eyes.

“Oh, well. Too late now.” Jim said in a sing song voice, smirking. Of course it was too late, they are dead now after all.

“So what was all this about? Bringing me here?” I questioned, looking towards him in faux confusion. Of course I knew why he had lured me here. It was the reason he constantly played this little game of ours, he simply wanted me dead.

“To kill you of course.” Jim said, confirming my thoughts.

“So why haven’t you yet? I’m right in front of you, why not just shoot me now?” I questioned, mocking his talents. I knew I was his obsession, the one thing he always looked forward to playing with. The one opponent more intelligent then him. He wouldn’t just kill me.

“Because that wouldn’t be very fun now would it. Besides, we’re having a nice little chat.” Jim explained, walking closer to me with a bounce in his step.

“So how are you going to do it?” I questioned, egging him on. He did love showing off, he’d tell me eventually through a long tedious villainous monologue. That is after all what villains did on a daily basis. It’s why they always lost.

“Do what?” Jim asked, faking confusion with a huge smile on his face. He obviously knew if he was smiling that big, he was just pretending to be an idiot to irk me.

“Kill me. I mean shooting me won’t give you satisfaction for very long, you could perhaps toss me in the pool for a swim with some bombs, but that would be too messy, so what are you going to do?” I said, trying to explain every single way he could kill me.

“Oh, I’m not going to kill you any old fashioned way. Please, I’m the king of criminal. Give me some credit.” He replied, looking at me as though I was the stupidest guy on the planet.

“Then why haven’t you done anything yet?” I asked, the door behind Jim creaking open. The sight of John walking in with a bomb strapped to his chest and a laser from an assassin’s gun on him, bring back old memories.

“And there’s the reason right now.” Jim said, smiling at John, making my blood boil. Why did he have to do this? Why did he constantly have to hurt the ones I actually like in this world all because they made me care. Why did he have to break my heart?

“John! How did you get in here?” I questioned, looking towards him in worry. I swear if Jim hurts him he’s a deadman. I actually cared about John and wanted him safe … no, needed him safe. He was everything to me, my new best friend and flat mate. I trusted him with my life. He had to be safe, he just had to.

“You can talk, Johnny-boy. Go ahead.” Jim said, patting John on the head like a dog.

“Some guy held me at gunpoint and forced me into this bomb.” John grumpily explained. This was all my fault. I had been so careful as to keep him away from danger and now here he was, so close to dying. My one and only best friend, dead at no one’s hands except for my own.

“This guy’s such a laugh! He’s definitely a keeper Sherly.” Jim said, looking at John with a something akin to wildness dancing around in his eyes, as he approached John, stroking him like an evil villain would stroke a cat. This was disgusting! I seriously had to watch him pet a full grown man that just happened to be my best friend! What was Moriarty’s deal?

“I barely even know John, leave him alone!” I yelled at him, cautioning Moriarty to tread lightly. This was my friend. The one person to ever be nice to me and treat me like a person rather than a toy. I needed him alive, and Moriarty bringing him into the equation … well, it didn’t help at all.

“You say you barely even know him yet your sharing a flat with him. Strange isn’t it?” Jim questioned raising his eyebrows at me sassily. Yes, I am going to share a flat with him, and yes I called him my best friend even though we met each other yesterday. But a best friend is someone that will stick with you quirks and all, someone that will go through both the good and the bad, someone that knows you’re crazy, and yet they’ll follow you around in public even if it means going to a crime scene. But most of all a best friend cares, they care about whether or not you’re safe, alive, feeling okay. And with John I believed that I had all that. John stuck with me no matter how weird I was, he went through both the high and the lows with me, and followed me around no matter where I went, even if that meant risking his own safety. And most of all he cared, and I did in return. He was my best friend, and I’d die before I let Moriarty do anything to injure him.

“This is between you and me. Why are you dragging John into this?” I inquired, looking over to Jim with all the hatred I could muster

“Do you know anything about Sherlock? Anything at all?” Jim asked John looking to him in question.

“I know plenty about him. Enough to know that you’re insane.”

“I guess it runs in the family. Did you even tell him that you aren’t even an actual detective?” Jim questioned, now looking over to me in curiosity.

“Shut up Jim. Leave him alone.” I said, giving him a warning glare. He was really pushing my buttons down now. Did he really think that making me mad was going to end nicely for him? Why would I ever tell John that, we were near police a good ninety percent of the time, if I told them I’d be found out.

“I guess he didn’t now did he. Tisk tisk Sherlock, you’ve been a naughty boy. I guess you should tell him now and get it over with. After all, what’s a relationship if it’s based off of a bunch of lies?” Jim stated in his annoyingly gay voice, giving me a bright smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I denied raising my eyebrow trying to act confused as I possibly could. I didn’t want to tell him. Not now, not in this situation. He’d hate me forever, and I really didn’t want to loose my best friend in the whole world!

“Tell him your little secret NOW. Or I guess I’ll just have to blow him up.” Jim demanded giving me a steely glare, holding his hand up as though he were waiting to give the order for John’s demise. I had to tell him, it was the only way to keep him alive, I had to save him. Never speaking to John again was better than never seeing him alive and well ever again. Well here we go …

“Ican’tdeduce.” I said quickly, my voice rushing to get it out finally after all of these years.

“I can’t hear you.”Jim said in a sing song voice, giving me an evil glare.

“I can’t deduce, John. You were right about me. I don’t know anything.” I explained regretfully.

“Yes, you can, I’ve seen you do it.”

“No, I can’t. What you saw was me taking a picture and sending it to my older brother Mycroft. He’s the smart one, not me.” I told him. That’s all it’s ever been every single day. Me sending a picture to Myc and getting deductions sent back to me. I wasn’t special I didn’t have any deducting powers. I had a photographic memory, nothing more and nothing less. I was as average as average could get. All I did was read texts and memorize them, saying them aloud to make myself seem smarter. I was really just an idiot when it came down to it.

“But you told me …”

“Yes, I know. I was telling the truth when I had said I was texting my brother, but it wasn’t for family reasons. I’m sorry. I lied to you.” I said, cutting him off from what he was going to say.

“And he finally tells the truth. How does it feel to be the idiot of the family?”

“Stop it Jim. Just stop it. Why don’t you just kill me already.” I said, glaring at him spitefully. First he killed people, then he dragged John into all this and made me give away my biggest secret of all time, but what wasn’t acceptable in all of this was the fact that he was ready to kill John. Yet, John wasn’t in this equation at all. He was someone I had met yesterday to Jim, not a friend, or even a best friend but a stranger that I had barely met a day ago. John should not be a part of all of this … in fact I should be dead by now, why hadn’t he just killed me like he had brought here to do instead of playing around with people that I supposedly didn’t know that well.

“Because that wasn’t the plan.” Jim explained looking towards me with laughter in his eyes, he was mocking me

“Then what was the plan … to ruin my life?”

“Take this little meeting of ours as a friendly little warning, my dear. Back off.” Jim replied, giving me a death glare. Surely if looks could kill there was no doubt that I’d be dead by now. He loved the death glare it was his favorite for sure.

“I’ll catch you eventually.”

“No you won’t. Not when you have precious little John here. He could die at any moment.” Jim said with fake sadness, looking towards John with the fakest pout I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Was that a threat?” I questioned, narrowing my eyes at the man.

“Do you want it to be?” He questioned back, giving me a look. I glanced over at John. To be honest I hoped it wasn’t. I mean I did after all want John safe. But knowing Jim that was probably as close to a threat that he was capable of.

“Maybe.” I answered vaguely, glancing quickly over to John to make sure he was safe. I mean he looked safe, there weren’t any scratches or bruising, so I guess he was alright. I wasn’t a doctor or anything so I didn’t know for sure.

“Oh, so vague. No wonder our poor mother was always so upset with you.” Jim sneered, shaking his head at me.

“I upset her? Me?” I questioned, looking in shock, as he glowered at me. Whenever we were younger he was always the one getting into trouble. He was the one running around with the gangs, in fact he was the leader of the gangs organizing what was going to happen when. As for me … well, I was quite the opposite actually. I had no friends except for my other brother Mycroft … and I was always reading science books and doing experiments, taking to going to my room rather than running around outside with bad people.

“It wasn’t me that upset her, Jim.” I corrected, looking at him with doubt in my mind. He was always the rowdy one, getting tattoos at the age of fourteen, and killing dogs … particularly my dog Redbeard. Redbeard was my best friend when I was a little kid, he was a beautiful ginger irish setter I had gotten when I was seven and being the jealous older brother that Jim was, not more than five years later I found him dead in my room hanging upside down by a rope with a knife through his heart. My poor dog had died at the hands of James, and I promised myself from then on that I would never forgive him for what he had done. Never.

“No, No, wait. Mother? Whose mother?” John questioned in confusion, yet again today taking me away from my upset thoughts.

“Our mother. I guess Sherlock forgot to mention that too.” Jim said in disbelief, looking at me with the roll of his eyes.

“This is my other older brother James.” I said in disgust, wrinkling my nose at what I had said. It just didn’t sound right. He wasn’t my brother. No, he lost that title when he had killed my dog out of jealousy. He was my enemy, not my brother. A brother was someone that showed love and support, not hate and jealousy. James was the king of evil … and according to him I was on the side of the angels. He was bad and I was good, and we would never come together. Ever.

“Don’t call me that, William!” He scolded, giving me a warning glance.

“Don’t call me William. That isn’t my name. It’s Sherlock and you know it.” I said to him, stepping closer definitely.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. No one cares DOFUS!” He shouted in anger, leaning just a little too close to me. The both of us having a stare down competition. He did not just call me a dofus did he? My name was Sherlock. I hated my full name. William Sherlock Scott Holmes sounded like some snotty rich guy, not a detective. Anyways who in their right mind would name their kid William? Jim had nothing to complain about. His name was perfectly fine … James Moriarty Holmes sounded like a normal person. Even Mycroft’s was somewhat normal. But mine? Mine sounded absolutely terrible!

“Girls you’re both pretty. Now can I go home?” We heard John ask, we both looked over, watching him stand there bored out of his mind.

“Fine, but take this as a warning John. If you come looking for me or my partner, you’re dead.” Jim said, rolling his eyes at the loss of interest from John. He was losing a pawn in his little game and he knew it. To be honest though John hadn’t even been there to talk he was just there for leverage.

“Whatever. Just get this bomb off me so I can go home and sleep. I’ve had enough excitement for one day.” John replied, in a sarcastic tone. I went over to him, quickly flinging off the bomb jacket as carefully as I could, making sure not to harm John in the process. He was out of harm’s way … for now at least. Which was good enough for me.

“Jesus, when someone told you sibling rivalry you lot took it literally.” John said, taking the time to give Jim a quick glance from where he stood.

“You’re still sharing the flat with me right?” I questioned him, checking him over for injuries.

“Yeah. I’m not upset that you lied to me, I mean we barely knew each other anyways. I’ll see you back at the flat, try not to kill each other.” John replied, begging me not to get killed

“I can’t promise you anything, but I’ll certainly try my best.”

“Good, now try and wake up will you.”

“Wake up?” I questioned, giving him a confused look.

“Yes, this was all a dream. I’m a storyteller, I know when I’m in one. Besides, you don’t really believe all of this is real do you?” He replied in an inquiring manner.

“I mean … I had my doubts, but it seemed so realistic.” I stuttered obviously confused on what to say next. Everything was just so lucid to me, the plot, the characters, the thoughts, everything. Though having Jim as a brother had definitely given me some suspicion. We just had too much differences to be brothers. For starters he was Irish and I was British. He has brown eyes and I have blue … not to mention he was completely insane and I was not. But was this really a dream?

“I do believe you’re slipping, brother mine.” The person who used to be John moments before said, staring back at me with a face that looked strangely like my brother’s.

“Mycroft?! What are you doing here?” I questioned in surprise.

“This is your dream, you tell me. Now wake up!” He demanded of me in his demanding tone. He was always the authority figure. Always telling me what to do and how to do it. Well Mycroft answer me this … how the hell am I supposed to wake up from this?

“How?! I don’t know how to!” I spluttered, not quite sure what to do next. The reality around me was slipping, what I thought was real wasn’t. I didn’t know what to believe anymore.

“Oh Sherlock, you always need everything to be clever. Just wake up DOFUS!” Jim screamed at me, leaning into my face. The person who was once my brother now looking at me with the insane eyes of the devil himself. Hold on a second … didn’t this happen before? Haven’t I been stuck in my own head like this another time? What did I do then … how did I jump from one reality to another? Oh …

“Of course … I need to die here to go back to reality.” I realized, mumbling my answer right away, remembering when this had happened the first time with the case of the Abominable bride. I had jumped off that cliff to wake up in my own reality and it had worked then of course, which means it would work now.

“’Atta boy. Now go on, off you pop.” Jim said with an evil glint in his eye, as if he were mocking me. Great. I came here so he could murder me, and I end up killing myself. He was getting exactly what he wants and he isn’t even real. Fantastic.

“Do it!”

“Go away, you aren’t real. You’re just a figment of my imagination. All of this is! Everything is just a dream!” I said nervously, hoping to god that this would work. I placed the gun on my head, my hand shaking as it touched my skull, the coolness of the metal causing me to shiver. This was it, either I died here and never woke up, or I woke up in my reality. I placed my finger on the trigger, looking down at the ground where my blood would most certainly soak the tiles if I weren’t just a figment of my imagination. This was it, either I lived or died. No going back. The seconds ticked by turning into minutes and the minutes turning into hours. And that’s when I pulled the trigger, nothing but darkness following.

______________________________________________________________________________

“Oh my god, Sherlock. Thank god. I didn’t think you’d ever wake up!” John said in relief, looking at the now conscious Sherlock with happiness in his tone. Honestly, he thought Sherlock was in a coma of some sort … maybe even dying as he was barely breathing and his heartbeat was erratic. John didn’t know what to think as a Doctor. He honest to god thought he was losing his best friend.

“How long was I asleep?” I said ruffling my hair.

“About two days. Don’t you remember what happened?” John asked me looking towards me in concern.

“No … “ I said trailing off in thought trying to remember what could have possibly occurred causing me to fall asleep for such a long time.

“We went to Irene Adler’s house to retrieve the photographs and she injected you with some drug, you’ve been out since then. You’ve been mumbling a lot in your sleep too … oh, and I do believe that Lestrade took a video of you on his phone, just a heads up.” John explained giving me a small smirk. Oh, great now Lestrade had leverage if I ever stepped out of line. That’s just fantastic … and wait … I mumbled in my sleep?

“I was mumbling in my sleep? What did I say?”

“I didn’t really understand most of it, but I heard you say something about Moriarty. What were you dreaming about?” He asked me in curiosity, giving me a look.

“You weren’t a doctor, and I couldn’t deduce, Anderson was somehow a bloody genius, I actually cared about people and Moriarty. Moriarty was my brother for some strange reason.” I explained in short mumbles, my head spinning as memories of the very lucid dream came back to me.

“Okay, just forget I even asked.” John said, walking out of my room knowing that I was safe, and very much alive.

This may seem like the end my dear readers, no more, game over. John Watson is my friend. I may seem unappreciative of him sometimes … and very rude, but it’s just who I am and he understands that. He knows deep in his heart that even if I mock him, or ignore him, or simply yell at him in my haste to solve the murder that I still care about him. I wanted him safe from danger, safe from loss, and most of all safe from heartbreak. I wanted him to live a happy life with Mary and resolve all differences he has with her. I want him to solve murders with me without becoming leverage, and getting himself thrown into fires and kidnapped. But most of all I wanted him to be my caring best friend, the person who won’t hesitate to tell me what I’ve done wrong and make me apologize. John didn’t realize that without him I’d still be the careless, broken shell I was before him. John was slowly fixing me by telling me what not to do, and how to act human. He was the constant reminder of what I could become if I just cared the tiniest bit. Our adventures to come may be dangerous, and we could die at any moment. But as long as John is alive and well I don’t think it will happen anytime soon. Yes, John was my saving grace, and the soldier that fought for his life when he needed to. He was the Doctor that came to the rescue when I needed it most, and the human that brought out the more caring side of me. But most of all, through thick and thin he was the friend that I’ve always needed. He was the most bravest and wisest man I’ve ever known. Things may change for us, or make things harder for us in the future. But one thing that will never change is John. He’ll always be there with me no matter what fighting with me until the end. You may think this the end with the amount of words left on this page, dear reader. But really, the amount of words on this page could never sum up my fondness for my best friend. You may think this the end, but I can’t even begin to explain the adventures we haven’t yet had with each other, or the adventures that are too complicated for words. You may think this the end, game over, but it isn’t, in fact it is just the beginning. Whenever I’m with John there is never a day when the game won’t end. The game is on! And hopefully it always will be.

______________________________________________________________________________

“I thought being alone and being unemotional was the best way to survive life, but then I met my best friend and I slowly changed my mind. And now, without having wearied him, I hope with detailed scientific accounts, theories, or deductions I will endeavor to write the story of adventure itself … the day that we met.”

-Anonymous