Disclaimer: anything you recognise isn't mine, i'm not making any money of this (i wish), everything belongs to its respectful owner.
The rain lashed at the window as john tossed and turned under the sheet, which was rapidly becoming tangled.
"No, Sherlock, don't" he rasped, memories flashing through his mind
"That's what people do, isn't it? Leave a note?"
"Note…. No" John twisted under the covers, unknowingly pulling them closer around him.
"Goodbye John" images were coming thick and fast now. Sherlock's arms outspread, his body angling closer and closer to the ground til he began to plunge downward. His coat billowing as he plummeted, arms and legs windmilling, unable to slow his descent.
"CRACK!"
"NO!" John bolted upright in bed, struggling to get out of the tangled bedding that trapped him. He had had the same nightmare with unsettling regularity for close on a year now, always ending the same, with Sher- His body hitting the ground with that awful sound. He avoided mentioning his name at all if he could manage it; it always brought on the inevitable tears, crying would be to show weakness and He hated any signs of weakness.
The alarm clock told john that he had, again, awakened before his alarm. With a sigh, he reached over and turned it off, knowing he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep in the 3 or so hours before work started at 7:30. He hadn't wanted to resume anything that reminded him of Sher- Him, so his menial job of a medical clerk was merely to pay the bills for his new apartment.
He hadn't been back to 221B since the funeral. Mrs Hudson had tried multiple times to get him to return, at least to take some of his things to his new flat, but every time he thought about it he started getting flashbacks and hyperventilating. Eventually Mrs h had given up and just brought his basic things round to him. All of His things were still there; His clothes, His experiments, His skull, all set up exactly the way it had been before He left.
John realised, although he tried very hard to forget the entire event, that the first anniversary of His dea- leaving was in exactly a fortnight, which brought an intense pain somewhere in the region of his chest.
He was startled out of his musings by the sharp chime of his phone. Frowning, he checked it with something akin to curiosity; who would be sending him messages at this time? He thought, checking the time. With a shock, he realised that he had been sitting there for close on and hour and a half. He shook himself out of his stupor and began to get ready for the day, forgetting all about the text which had disrupted his random thoughts.
Okay, this is my first attempt at writing fanfic, so please review and tell me if its any good, all reviews are welcome :) Thankyou for reading! :)