Just a month ago my good friend, Innenlebenaussenwelt translated Never Tear Us Apart into German, winning it a whole new fan base! This story is dedicated to that lovely lady, just to say THANK YOU!
Disclaimer: Don't own – wish I did!
It started with the sound of gunfire, shouting, someone calling his name. Then came the phantom pain – he knew it would – before the whole nightmare shifted, morphed into something more exquisitely painful.
Those eyes, almond shaped and glistening silver in the moonlight, looked down at him from a distant rooftop as he lay wounded. And that voice, soft and deep, soothed him, and called him back from the edge of fear.
Mid nightmare John reached out for Sherlock, needing to feel his warmth, hear his breathing, but the shock of cold sheets, and the yawning gap where he should have been, pulled the doctor back into reality, crying out the detective's name, sobbing for his dead lover.
On the other side of the bedroom door a shadowy figure held his breath, hearing the heartbroken lamentation, and his own heart felt close to breaking. Biting his cheek against the need to call out, he pressed his hands softly against the wood, as if to get closer to the man for whom he had 'died'.
Keen senses noted movement within the room, and he made good his escape, pausing only long enough to complete his task.
Entering the kitchen moments later, John's eyes widened as he spotted the hand-painted mug on the table, with its yellow smiley face, and a single word. BELIEVE.