Sherlock curled in the corner, breathing heavily. Even in the dim light, his breath was visible in the cold air. He sat here, thoughts racing in his mind, from one thing to another.
What the hell is going on? He thought to himself, where am I?
He sat there for a minute, thinking. And then he realized:
Where's John?
Sherlock sat up and looked out the window behind him, which was cracked, and soon fogged up by his breath. He realized he was in a building, probably fourth story, and he could make out one little road which was cover with snow. But first he had to find John. He stood up quickly stood up and walked towards a set of stairs. He stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and walked down the steps, his footsteps echoing.
He reached a new floor. And this one was lit, with candles.
"John?" Sherlock yelled, but no response. His footsteps continued to echo among the abandoned building. The temperature seemed to get incredibly colder, and Sherlock started to shiver. He stopped walking, but little echoes of footsteps continues
"J-John?..."
The footsteps continued.
"John stop. STOP IT RIGHT NOW"
Sherlock fell to his knees while warm tears fell down his face. The footsteps drew closer. He looked in front of him, to the left and to the right of him, but he couldn't make himself look behind him. His lip was quivering, his whole body was shaking, but he sat there frozen.
Shhh….
"W-What the h-hell is going on?"
Slowly, something reached for Sherlock's neck. It moved around, reaching for his face, covering his mouth, a large black hand. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw large, black figures which he couldn't make out. He looked up slightly, and long stands of brown hair fell on his face.
Something started to sing:
Little fairy comes at night,
Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown,
With silver spots on her wings,
And from the moon she flutters down.
Another hand was held out, holding a silver rod. It was pointed at Sherlock's face, then pointed in the opposite direction.
She has a little silver want,
And when a good child goes to bed,
She waves her hand from right to left,
And makes a circle round its head.
And then it dreams of pleasant things,
Of fountains filled with fairy fish,
And trees that bear delicious fruit,
and bow their branched at a wish
A fountain rose from the concrete, floor, and blood started dripping, and then spewing into the fountain. A plant also rose, surrounding Sherlock with its vines. Sherlock held in his screams, and the hand pulled away from his face, and he sat there, shivering and hopeless.
John suddenly appeared in front of Sherlock, "John!"
John looked like as if he was yelling, but Sherlock couldn't hear one thing.
"John!" Sherlock kept screaming, but John just stood there with fear in his eyes. And then he realized what he was saying…
Help Me.
Something started to laugh, and John stopped for a moment. From his stomach, his body split into two parts. Blood flew everywhere along with the two halves of his body landing on each side of the abandoned room. The candles blew out and Sherlock sat shivering in the vines, almost unable to breath.
"John!" He screamed, while an unimaginable amount of tears flew down his face.
He held closed his eyes and held his hands to his face. And screamed once more
"John, no!"
"Sherlock!" John yelled and Sherlock opened his eyes. He found himself curled up in the corner of the bedroom, next to a knocked over plant pot. John was knelt down next to him, grabbing him by his shoulders.
"Are you alright?" John said quickly.
Sherlock looked at John, and broke down into tears, hugging him.
John rubbed his back, "It's alright Sherlock, it was just a bad dream."
Sherlock continued to sob, "I-I thought I-I lost you"
"I'm here Sherlock, I'm here"
"I love you John" Sherlock said, his crying dying down.
"I love you too Sherlock" John said smiling.
Sherlock stood up, a little uneasy.
"I'm going to fix you some tea" John said, leading him into the living room. Sherlock sat on the couch, waiting for John to come back with tea. He looked at the wall, and a little picture hung there. A fairy with brown hair and blue eyes, and silver wings sat on the roots of a tree, looking into the darkness of the forest.
Sherlock curled up into a ball on the couch.
"John" he said, "Can we please get rid of that ridiculous picture"
John looked over at Sherlock and laughed, "The fairy one?"
"That fairy killed you"
John laughed and took the picture off of the wall and walked over to Sherlock and kissed him on the forehead.
"Oh what am I going to do about you Mr. Sherlock Holmes"