John shot upright in bed, gasping and sweating heavily. He glanced at the clock to his left, and let out a heavy sigh. 3:30 in the morning. This seemed like the millionth time he'd waken up with a nightmare. Not even a nightmare… It was a moment he kept reliving. The Reichenback Fall, to be specific. He kept seeing Sherlock plummet off the building, and every time he was forced to watch the man he called his best friend – perhaps even more than that – fall to his death. And every time, he ran to Sherlock's lifeless body, lying on the pavement, blood splattered about. That was always when he woke up. This time wasn't any different. Though, he stood by his words, what he said at Sherlock's grave.
"One more miracle, Sherlock… Just for me… Don't. Be. Dead."
The words echoed in the back of his mind, now. He meant it. Just one more bloody miracle and everything would go back to normal. But, he saw it all happen. He checked for himself. Sherlock was dead. Maybe Sherlock had planned it, and faked his own death. He wouldn't be surprised, to be honest. Though, if he did fake his own death… Why not come back sooner? John's thoughts swam with questions, of which he'd never get answers to. There was just one thing he couldn't get off his mind. He remembered everyone saying it, and it was all he could hold onto right now…
"I believe in Sherlock Holmes." He whispered to himself.
THE END