Sherlock and John in their later years, told from John's 1st person point of view. Please let me know what you guys think!

The alarm clock blared its annoying melody; I groaned audibly as I fumbled around for the snooze without even opening my eyes. The same tune every day; another day, another annoying wake up call. Getting old I thought was supposed to make it easier to rise early, but I had not found that to be true. I buried my face in the pillow, and pulled the covers over my head in an attempt to close myself off from the world. After hitting the snooze on the alarm three times, I finally decided that I could no longer hide from the world and pulled the covers off my head. I was assaulted by the bright light of the morning sun coming through my window; it was beautiful and annoying.

I sat up in bed and my muscles ached and protested the movement. My back hurt, my knees ached; I suppose that is what one gets after a life at battle. Fighting a war abroad in Afghanistan and 20 years' worth of wars here at home with Sherlock Holmes had taken a toll on my body. Though I hated it in the morning like now when everything ached, secretly I was pleased. My battle scars told of the exciting, and somewhat dangerous life I have lived.

I stretched and pulled the muscles in an attempt to get the blood flowing and my muscles working. I stood to my feet and opened the bedroom door. As I walked down the hallway I heard a familiar noise ringing from Sherlock's room. The alarm clock melody could be heard outside his door. I poked my head in his cracked door and found Sherlock face down in bed, his alarm clock ringing insistently. I smiled; I remembered days not too long ago that Sherlock couldn't be made to sleep by wild horses and now here he lay, actually sleeping through his alarm clock. I actually believed that he was beginning to sleep more than me, a sight I never thought I'd see. But then again, things were much quieter around 221B these days.

Smiling still, I closed the bedroom door and made my easy for the shower. If Sherlock still hadn't managed to get up by the time that I got out of the there I would wake him. But right now I let him sleep.

I turned on the hot water and stepped into the shower. It didn't make it easier to be awake but it kept me from falling asleep. When I finished my shower I stepped in front of the mirror, brushing my now completely grey hair; Sherlock liked to make a joke of it, that my hair had turned before his. While my brownish blonde hair was now completely gone, Sherlock still maintained some of the raven color in his locks though most of his was grey now too.

When I emerged from my shower and began to walk to the kitchen, I saw Sherlock in his armchair by the fire, looking at the morning paper, though his eyes were drowsy. "Good morning" I said pleasantly, now more awake than he.

"What's good about it?" Sherlock groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. " It's an ungodly hour" he tucked his dressing gown around him tighter and shook the paper open in front of him.

I chuckled. Sleepy Sherlock Holmes was still something I was getting used to. " Well you can't be late for your students. They'd miss your ramblings so terribly much" I jested.

"Oh, they're all idiots" Sherlock said as he surveyed the paper. "Obviously."

I chuckled "Obviously" I said, " That's why they need you"

Sherlock gave an exasperated sigh. I knew that it had been a big change for Sherlock; he had been teaching science courses at the university now for two years but I was sure that it wasn't easy for him even still. He had made the decision to give up his case work two years ago, though he couldn't manage to give up work completely. Now he was part of the shaping of young minds; I pitied those young minds. What it must be like sitting through Sherlock ramble for an hour and half and be forced to stay in your seat; I couldn't imagine. In the beginning I felt guilty; up until that time we had been working on cases together, just as we had since the day we met. But then I'd had a heart attack, one day on a case. It was a severe one and the doctors had given me an extensive sentence of bed rest. It was during this time that Sherlock made the decision to stop his consulting work and begin teaching. At first I had felt guilty, assuming that he had made the decision based on the fact that I could no longer help him. But after a while I came to realize that Sherlock must have wanted an excuse to do this for a long time; shortly after leaving that work he had slowed down considerably himself. He'd actually become a regular sleeper though he still remained, as always, a terrible eater. Aging didn't change everything I suppose.

I made my way to the kitchen and began to make some eggs and toast. "Want anything?" I called out to him from the kitchen.

"Why would I?" Sherlock asked annoyed from the living room. Today was going to be one of his particularly charming days I could see.

I put my own food on a plate and took it to the table in the living room by the window. Though Sherlock refused anything to eat, even tea, he moved from his chair by the fire and sat at the table with me, looking at the paper. I ate mostly in silence, watching the leaves blowing down the street below; fall was quickly escaping and winter was well on its way here. Looking at my watch I noticed the time. " I need to be getting out of here" I said, gathering up my dishes and taking them to the kitchen. I entered the living room looking for my coat. I put it on as Sherlock was getting up from the table, no doubt to dress and get ready for class.

"Long day today?" he asked me as I prepared to head for the door.

"No, just a half day" I answered. Today was one of my short days at the hospital; I couldn't bear to retire completely after my illness either and I had taken up a small practice in the local hospital. I worked only part time since my health had remained fragile after my heart attack.

Sherlock gave me a small smile though it was gone as soon as I saw it in that sly and mischievous way he had about him. " See you at home for lunch then?" he asked.

"You mean the lunch that you won't eat?" I asked with a smile.

"Obviously" Sherlock said rolling his eyes and making his way to his room to get dressed as I walked out the door.

….

The office had been busy all morning and I had not had a chance for a break. It was flu season and naturally the office had been flooded with sneezing, coughing, vomiting people. It wasn't terribly taxing work but it had kept me busy.

After the last appointment of day I made my way to my office to file the paperwork that had accumulated throughout the day. I sat down at my desk and began deal with the huge pile of paper. My stomach grumbled loudly now and let me know that lunch time was quickly approaching. I could see that the paper work was not going to get done today as there was way too much for the half hour of work that I had left. I could stay over and work but today I chose not to. Sherlock only came home for lunch one day a week due to the way that his classes were scheduled and I always made time for that lunch hour with him. He never ate of course, but somehow it still became a ritual for them over the past months. I felt a smile turn on my lips.

I had been furiously typing information into the computer for about 10 minutes when there was a knock on the door of my office. "Come in" I called out.

One of my associates from the emergency side of the hospital, Michael, came in. "What's up?" I asked pleasantly, though I instantly regretted it. His face was ashen and he obviously seemed upset. He normally was a happy person, to the point of annoyance sometimes; if he looked this way then something was wrong. I felt my stomach drop, knowing deep down there would only be one reason for him to look that way at me; pity.

"You need to come to the emergency room, John" He said. "Its' Sherlock. They just brought him in."