This was it. Sherlock stepped slowly up onto the edge of the roof of the hospital, tailored shoes contrasting the dull concrete of the ledge. He looked down and swallowed hard. His heart began to beat faster. He breathed deeply as he reached up to feel his totem once more, making sure that he really was in the dream-world – his scarf was much silkier than it should be. All according to plan.
He looked down at John, waiting there on the ground. Sherlock knew that unless he acted soon, John would pull out the gun in his pocket and shoot him. That's what Subconscious Security was for, right? Sherlock nearly smiled at this twist of irony – John, the man who had believed in him more than anyone else would now be the one to blow Sherlock's cover within Moriarty's mind.
Even though he knew that this kick was what was needed to get him out, Sherlock couldn't help feeling a little nervous. What if he was wrong? What if this was reality after all and he only ended up killing himself? There was only one way to find out.
He stepped off the ledge. There was a sickening few seconds free falling. Seeing the sidewalk approach much faster than could be safe. On his way down, Sherlock happened to catch a glimpse of John. Even if he was just a mental projection, the hurt and pain and shock in John's eyes seemed real enough to Sherlock and it destroyed him.
And then there was black. And then Sherlock was suddenly awake in his bed, in his flat in Baker Street. He clambered out of bed, tears in his eyes caused by the grief he had seen in John's. Well, a mental projection of John. It still hurt. He rushed past the chair where someone had carefully laid out his long coat and blue scarf.
He wrenched open the door yelling for John. The other man came around the corner, a bemused smile on his lips. Without a word, Sherlock wrapped him in a bear hug.
"I'm guessing you got what you needed?" John asked, voice muffled by Sherlock's shoulder.
"Yes."
"Sherlock?
"Yes?"
"Why are you hugging me?"
Sherlock stepped back immediately and straightened his suit jacket which he was still wearing for some inexplicable reason. "Right. Sorry. I shouldn't have let the dream-world get to me. Quite right."
"What did you see?" John was clearly concerned now.
"I'd much rather not talk about it. What have we got in for dinner? I'm starving."
John happily told him about the Chinese in the fridge and went back to the blog post he was writing. All the while, the scarf remained unchecked...