It started off so well

They said we made a perfect pair

I clothed myself in your glory and your love

How I loved you,

How I cried...

The years of care and loyalty

Were nothing but a sham it seems

The years belie we lived a lie

"I'll love you 'til I die"

Save me Save me Save me

I can't face this life alone

Save me Save me Oh...

I'm naked and I'm far from home

John collapsed onto the couch numbly, senselessly, lifeless... It had been three years already but they seemed a lot longer, decades, centuries... Each minute dragged itself along, slowly. And still, even though three years had gone past, even though it felt like an eternity since John last saw those cyan blue eyes, the pain was as strong as it had been that day, that last day... No. John didn't want to think about it. Not again. The pain, sadness and anger were always there, present, making him remember why he was heartbroken and lifeless, why he was drunk most of the time, why he had to live of Mycroft's generous donations, why the tears constantly streamed down his face, why he was alone... Sherlock was long gone, long dead, but still, never forgotten.

John's only hope never dissapeared, he secretly wished that sherlock would come back, come back to him. The only relief that filled his body was when he texted Sherlock. His messages were probably forgotten in the waves in between the devices, unread, never reaching their destiny: the long dead man's phone. John never got answers to his messages. He told Sherlock everything, everything. Well, maybe not everything. There were still some things that he had admitted to himself but didn't send to Sherlock's phone. He had thought about it some time ago, in the silence and darkness of the sitting room, spread on the couch as his flatmate used to.

/Thoughts fluttered, his mind racing. John stared into the distance, thinking... Thinking about the only person that mattered, the only person that truly broke him to pieces. John had seen thousands of deaths in afganistan, friends, comrades, people he knew... And still, none of their deaths (violent, violent deaths) affected him as the sociopatic consulting detective's. They hadn't been together for more than a year, but john had spent more time with him than he had spent with anyone. All the dates he had had while being with Sherlock had all gone wrong, but really, that was also Sherlock's fault. He always claimed john for stupidities on the worst moments, he texted incessantly when he was bored, he called john for cases as soon as he found one and the problem was that john always, always went to Sherlock when he called. God, he missed Sherlock so much. He missed his peculiar, unused smile, his eyes, his cheekbones, his lips, oh his lips... So angular, so perfect... John surprised himself with these thoughts, he shouldn't have these thoughts, it was so wrong to have these thoughts... But still, he had them, he had always felt those feelings pounding the back of his brain. He realised that the pain he was feeling wasn't the pain of someone who lost just their best friend, that thought sent tears down his already red cheeks. Oh god, he did, John Watson had unavoidedly fallen in love with his best friend and flatmate Sherlock Holmes. But now it was to late to admit it, Sherlock was gone, and with him all of the chances that John had of ever being happy again./

John barely noticed (as drunk as he was) the tears fall his face as he remembered how realisation had hit him that rainy afternoon two years ago. It had taken him so much to admit it, to recognise it. That he had been in love with Sherlock. That he still was. John took another sip of the beer he was holding, hoping that it would drown his thoughts... But it didn't, so he fetched his phone, searching for the relief that always filled him when he texted Sherlock. Well, Sherlock's phone.

Sherlock, i miss you. Please, let me come with you. -John W.

John dissolved into silent tears once more, and as his strength left him through the salty liquid, John traveled to his dream world; Where Sherlock was there, they solved cases, and Sherlock Felt the same way for John as John felt for him.

Sherlock woke up with a jump when he noticed his phone buzz, indicating a recieved message.