Title: Scarf
Words: 118
Rating: K+
Character(s): John Watson
Genre: Angst
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, or any of the characters, plots, scarves... You get the drift. Everything belongs to the Dark Lords Moftiss and the BBC.
He woke up crying and tangled in a scarf that smelled like the past.
It was the same dream, every night, every day, every nap, every daydream. It never changed. He was sure the scarf wasn't helping, but he wasn't about to part with it. Not yet- No, not ever. It went everywhere he did, almost like a substitute. But it could never replace-
Rain was hitting the roof and blurring the outside through the windows. It seemed like it had rained every day since-
Maybe it was just the tears and the pounding in his head.
John Hamish Watson curled up on Sherlock's bed and fell back to sleep, crying with his face buried in the scarf.
This is just going to be a collection of random Sherlock-related drabbles. The genre will vary, most definitely, as will the rating. Review if you'd like. :3 Flames, however, will be used to heat my sammich.