Warnings: None that I can think of, but maybe something about a pool of blood and a smashed head!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
A/N: I wrote this story as Gen, but If you really really want, you can read it as Slash ;)
This Fic is unbetaed, mistakes are mine alone, but please feel free to point anything you might find =)
"sigh," again I am sorry about the format. "Wishes FFN will fix what ever is wrong with this editing box thing"
...
The first thing he felt was cold, bone breaking cold. He couldn't comprehend what was happening or where he was. All he knew was coldness, then his chest exploded and darkness took him over.
He was floating. What, Why, where and how? He tried to focus and answer his own questions. What is going on? Why was he floating in darkness? Where is this place? How did he get here? Why can't he think? No answer, no pain, no feelings and no body! There was nothing.
He doesn't know how long he has been here, flying aimlessly through darkness and silence. Time and space have no meaning here, nothing does. Only if he can figure out where here is, but his brain was not cooperating and keeps shutting down on him. The first time he heard it, he thought it was in his own broken mind. There it is again, what was that? As much as he tries, he could not identify it. Something told him it was important, but the question remains, why was it so important for him to hold on to this unidentified sound! He tried to move, hold on, a paused. He has a body now. What is going on in this place. God, he couldn't think.
That sound again, he couldn't remember when he heard it last but it's back again. There was a name in his mind. What and whose name was it, he knows it's a special name and it belongs to someone very important to him. The sound was getting closer and it was familiar. He tried with all his power to recognize it.
"John."
Yes, it's John. The sound belongs to John. He repeated the name over and over fearing of forgetting it again. He can't lose John, the only person he truly cared about even if that doesn't show often. John's voice was low. He still couldn't think right, but John sounded worried and even sad. why was John sad? Did something happened!
How long has it been since John stopped talking, he wondered. Not for the first time he wished something or someone would tell him how time works in this place. He could feel his body gradually reappearing, he got his arms and torso back now. He still couldn't move, but knowing his body is back where it belongs is a relief somehow. His mind although still covered with a blanket of fog, is much better than before. He could think, but only for a short time before everything is clouded again. Right now all he wants is to hear John's voice again, no he needs to hear it.
He gave up on trying to calculate the time. His genius mind is still holding to its blanket and will not let go. The only thing that holds him back from drowning into the darkness surrounding him was John's voice talking to him again. He could make out some of the words now.
"Sherlock, back, here, always." John keeps repeating those words. Only if he could make his brain work properly to make a proper meaning of them. For the moment, he'll just hold on to them and to John. The darkness feels less lonely when John is here.
It was so sudden, the rush of images and sounds. One second there was only blackness the next there were those blinding images and deafening sounds everywhere. It was like someone had pulled back a curtain to uncover a play for him to watch.
A man was running in front of him.
The image suddenly jumped to show a dead body of a young man in a pool of blood with half of his head missing.
The next slide was of the same man he saw before, only this time he was holding a gun.
Now, he can see water. Water everywhere covering him and pulling him down.
As sudden as it started, it stopped, leaving him in the darkness once again.
Shortly -how short he doesn't know- after the movie in his head was over, John's voice can be heard again. More persistent and firm. He moved his head in an attempt to hear better. John was talking more slowly and softly this time. Was that a pleading tone? He moved his hand, wait, his mind yelled at him, he can move. He tried his fingers, yes he can. When he moved them again, something strong took hold of them. He didn't resist. The thing holding his hand was warm and comforting.
The light was soft at first. He wasn't sure if he saw it or imagined it, but it was really there. He walked, or at least he thought he was walking or was he flying again? He didn't really care, that spot is all what matters. With each passing moment the light gets stronger and stronger. Finally, he was there standing in front of a long light tunnel. He stood staring at the endless road ahead of him, where would this take him? what's on the other side? His, shockingly, clear mind wondered. Shouldn't he feel pain from the light? He has been in the dark for so long, or maybe it wasn't that long! He shook his head. No time to think about this now, he needs to cross this bridge and discover what's on the other side. He was sure it will be much better than here. At least there is light in there, it feels safe. He starts walking.
Time is still a mystery, nothing to tell if he was walking for hours or minutes. When he finally saw something hovering ahead of him, he stopped. The figure was not clear. Everything was a blur and he felt his mind blocking out again. He couldn't think or understand what was going on. Pain shot through him making him scream, or was he imagining that. The unknown object came to his line of vision so fast he felt dizzy, what is that? He forced himself to look at it. An angel? He still couldn't make out the features of it, but yes he was sure, it's an angel hovering over him.
The light was so strong now and hurts his eyes which made them close on their own, but when he forced them open again, the angel was gone and panic settle inside of him for a moment. There was a soft voice saying something and a feeling of warmth on his face and the light was not hurting him like before, so he relaxed again. The blur was fading and the angel's face was shaping right before his eyes. There was a smile on the angel's face, and what he thought was tears? why would an Angel cry? do angels even cry! His mind was struggling to comprehend what's going on. The angel features were clear now, it was John!
John was over him with a big smile covering his face. He wanted to ask why was John smiling and crying at the same time, it doesn't make any sense! and since when did John became an angel? Too many questions, too many sounds, too much light. He can't take this. John was talking, but as hard as he tried he couldn't understand. He moved his hand that he just realized John was holding. his eyes closed again, he will only hold onto John and everything will be alright. John was an angel after all.
He stayed like that for hours, or could be minutes for all he knew. Just holding John's hand and feeling his presence beside him. His brain is still clouded, but he can identify the sounds he is hearing now. Machines, a lot of them. He opened his eyes. White everywhere, a white ceiling, white walls and white sheets. A hospital.
"You... not... angel?" He said looking at John.
He can hear a strangled laugh from John like he was trying to keep himself together and not break down.
"Ten bloody days, Sherlock. Ten days..." John tightened his hold on his hand.
Something touched his lips and he opened his eyes which he can't remember closing them. John was holding a cup for him. "Drink this. It will make your throat feel better." He did. "Slowly slowly," John was saying with relief evidence in his voice. After John took the cup away, he sat down on a chair next to him.
"Don't ever do that again." John was saying with the same strangled voice.
Before he could answer, doctors and nurses appeared from out of no where. They asked him questions and poked him with different kinds of medical stuff. He answered them and ignored what they were doing. All he cared about is his life line which was John's hand holding his, everything else was nothing to him at this moment.
The doctors and their helpers left and they were alone again. He felt very tired, why? Didn't he just wake up from a 10-day coma! He should be wide awake and running, not feeling tired and sleepy. Nothing makes sense anymore.
"It's normal to feel disoriented and tired right now, Sherlock." Leave it to John to read his mind.
"Mhm." He couldn't think of any other thing to say, or if he did, his tongue would not obey his order to say it. He can hear John chuckles.
"Go to sleep Sherlock," John's other hand rested on his head. "I'll be here when you come back."
He can feel himself smiling and hear himself whispering, "Always."