This was initially a chapter for 'Nightmare' containing what I perceived would have been Sherlock's dream. However it became a longer work and, with having finished 'Struck Dumb', I felt the need to finish this multi-chapter story too.
This is 10 chapters long and I intend to post two-three per day if people want to read it.
Sorry for any mistakes.
Chapter 1:
The perfectly aimed punch collided painfully with the detective's cheekbone, the impact emitting a resounding crack that bounced around the apartment as Sherlock stumbled backwards, his right hand flying to his now throbbing cheek and his left flailing for something to grab onto as he fought to regain his equilibrium, failing to do so when another punch rebounded from the right side of his jaw and he landed on the floor of his flat. His usually perfect vision was blurred from pain, but still he managed to fix his stare on his assaulter, fear in his eyes as yet another punch collided with his jaw.
The detective's head of floppy black curls ricocheted off of the kitchen floor as his relentless attacker struck his nose; an aching feeling spreading to his cheeks as a small line of blood trickled from his left nostril, the stream speeding up as the substance began gushing, dripping over Sherlock's once-white shirt and pooling on the linoleum around his head as he lay on the floor, halfway between the sitting room and the kitchen.
"John," Sherlock whimpered, the action causing a white-hot pain to shoot through his jaw and into his head, "please," he tried again as his doctor stepped forward, gripping Sherlock by the collar and pulling him upwards slightly as the man tried to curl himself into the smallest ball such a tall and lanky detective could accomplish, "stop." Sherlock saw the outline of his flat-mate's hand as he raised it to take another shot at the male just as a high-pitched shriek echoed around the room, emitting from the little old lady in the doorway.
"John!" The ex-soldier paused mid-punch, his hand hovering over Sherlock's face, his back to the elderly lady as he arched over the detective's huddled form; she rushed forward, prying the doctor's bloodied hands away from Sherlock's collar. The doctor turned on his heel, disregarding the trembling ball of detective and stomped up the stairs into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him and leaving the elderly landlady to take care of the bleeding man on the floor.
Please let me know what you think and if you believe that I should continue posting this.
As the chapters for both this and 'Struck Dumb' are already written out, the posting rate of one won't affect the other.
Thank you for reading.
ibelieveinguardianangels