A/N: Sorry for not putting anything up for so long. I haven't had time to sit and type, so here's a little Wholock drabble I did on Easter. Hope you like it. Lots of angst on the menu today XP

…..

The angels got you, didn't they? Snapped your neck? Or sent you back in time, perhaps? So tell me, which one Sherlock?

"They sent me back" Sherlock's scratchy voice came from the old record player, sitting in the corner of my flat. John was sitting on the sofa, staring at the machine, his laptop open in his lap.

I didn't know how I would get it to Sherlock. He had to get the written record somehow. He knew what we said. It was like last time, only this time it was me who was the one who knew what was happening. Because I knew. I knew like no one else, except perhaps The Doctor himself. He was the one who told me after all. Even Larry never quite got it. Just me…because I never met The Doctor again.

I heard John whisper from across the room. "W-why?" he said, slightly gasping. I leaned against the wall. What would become of John after this? What could he do?

A shaky sigh emanated from the device. "I don't know. They just did."

John's next statement shook with anger. "But why? Don't they have a reason?"

"No John, they don't." I spoke up. "They just want to feed."

"What…" he drew a sharp breath "What do they feed on?" I could see the worry plainly on his face. His fear.

"They feed off of potential time energy. Time you could've spent in the future. The…days that might've been." I trailed off as I saw the first tear make its lazy way across John's cheek.

"What might've been." John repeated slowly in a cracked voice.

The record crackled again. "John, I don't want you to worry about that."

"But, Sherlock-"

"No, John. If you dwell on it there will be too much pain. I don't want that to happen to you."

"How can I do that, Sherlock? How can I not think about what could've happened? About what we could have had?" The tears were streaming now, as John yelled at the man who wasn't there.

"I'm sorry John. I wanted there to be a future. John, I-" the record screeched loudly, and then there was silence. I looked at John, his body shaking with the strength of his sobs.

I walked over to him and rested my hand on his back. "John…he can't come back. I'm sorry."

He looked up and me, wet eyes and nose streaming. "But I loved him, Sally."

"I know, John. I know."

…..

A/N: Should I write continue writing Wholock or should I write some normal stuff for once? :-P

Thanks for reading and reviewing!