AUTHOR'S NOTES: PLEASE READ!

So glad you're interested -I promise, this may be my first SHERLOCK/JOHNLOCK story, but it will be worth your while.

-I do have sort of a 'mary-sue' character however, I've worked really hard to develop her further and so she's not random! Her real name is Briony LeStrande but her alias is Opal Undin.

-As you know this is POST-SECOND SEASON (after Sherlock's supposed suicide/death) but I'm bringing a few character's back and I've smoothly incorporated Opal into the plot.

-Please be aware, this is a JOHNLOCK fiction -do NOT get it confused. If you're not into this sort of thing, then don't read it. Seriously.

PS- Opal is just a friend to Watson, however, you may need to read more to find out the little history she and Sherlock share...

ENJOY-

(M/M -Mature Content; Angst & Drama JohnLock SHXJW, implied SHXOC)

Interlude:

What offends moral man above all, though, is that in an instant of supreme universal perfection
should vanish without a trace - like a falling star, leaving nothing to posterity.

-Nietzche

CHAPTER ONE:
My memory is very cruel

It was cloudy this morning, again, John thought as he stared absently out the window of his and Sherlock's flat. He'd already taken a shower and dressed. Besides, he hadn't really slept at all last night -he kept waking up in a panic.

Gasping for air, like someone was forcing his head under cold water. It was the same dream again. The one with Sherlock. Falling.

These days, he didn't get much sleep but he couldn't stop dreaming. John only wanted rest. He looked around the nearly vacant flat and stared idly, imagining Sherlock playing his violin. Or complaining about his blog or why-!

Oh damn, John thought as he swallowed hard, I'm doing it again. He tried clenching and balling his fist but it kept twitching. Then it quaked uncontrollably. He could feel his chest heave and panic started to build when suddenly, he noticed something he hadn't before…

There seemed to be something crammed, barely noticeable at all, between the mantel and Sherlock's ancient clock. For long moments, he studied it and then, his curiosity peaked -he'd been cleaning the flat and packing all Sherlock's belongings, how could I have missed that? John wondered.

He felt his breath curve sharply into a harsh sigh as he reached for his cane. He tried to make a clean transition but found himself trembling from exertion. He limped over and moved the clock aside and found a cut-out deep in the back of the mantel. Puzzled, he found an old shoe-box and bounded by several rubber bands.

Gingerly, John grabbed the box and pulled it free. After he unknotted the tangle of rubberbands he felt the shoe box bend and expand, bursting open with letters. John clumsily dropped everything all onto the floor. Letters, crinkled notes and pictures crashed, like a wave upon the shoreline, scattering everywhere.

"Ugh-are you kidding-oh! Bloody hell!" John muttered to himself, staring in annoyance at the mess he'd just made. He bit his lips and settled his position, squatting almost but relied completely against the cane. He tried collecting and making sense of the piles but flipped over a picture of a stunning,young woman with big, dewy brown eyes.

That's when John saw the prettily written cursive at the corner of the picture, written in black ink and it read:

"Miss you already, Shirley!"

-Briony

Just then Mrs. Hudson quietly came knocking on the door and startled John. He dropped the picture back into the pile and tried to stand.

"John, your cab is waiting outside -oh gracious, are you quite alright dear?" She frowned, rushing over to help him adjust as he stood, "What's all this? I thought you'd just cleaned"

"I-I'm not sure…. I just found it and then it fell"-

Suddenly, his alarm beeped loudly and interrupted them briefly. His wrist-watch lit up vibrantly. 10:30. He had his therapist appointment in 20 minutes. John quickly silenced the alarm.

"Oh you go ahead, John," Mrs. Hudson smiled, "I'll clean this up for -you don't want to be late again. Now," She helped him put on his coat and straightened his lapels, "Off with you."

"Thank-you, Mrs. Hudson. Very sorry."

"Not a problem dear. Go on. Pip, pip!"

Sherlock's black, wavering figure fell faster than a stone.

No…no!

Smashing into the ground. For long moments, it seemed,

the world had become quiet and very still. Everything

went cold, very, very cold.

John woke himself up in a gasp when he felt the same pain collapse and pour over his injured leg -like boiling metal! His skin crawled and burned hot. It felt like someone had just shot him, again.

"Sir? Sir are you alright?"

"What? Yes, yes," John answered the cabbie in a rushed sentence, clenching his leg, "I'm fine."

"Sir"-

"I said I'm fine!" John quickly felt his face turn red when heard his own voice yell. He didn't mean it.

"I'm sorry, I'm very sorry."

"...We're here." The cabbie sheepishly whispered, parking the cab in a hurry and Watson sighed as he tried to recompose himself. He quickly pulled out more than what the trip cost and slapped it into the driver's hands.

"Thank-you…Very sorry." John said as he stumbled out of the door. He slammed it shut and began limping his way down the sidewalks.

"John?" The therapist studied Watson's vacant, suddenly withdrawn stare.

John watched as strays of thick gray and black clouds gathered together in herds, high in the sky. The rain came falling in thick drops. It soon created a curtain outside the large, bay windows.

"John?"

"Hm? Yes," He shut his eyes in slight embarrassment and ran his fingers through his hair, looking back at her, "Uh-you were…you were saying?"

"Actually, you telling me you're having trouble sleeping, again?"

John nodded, reluctantly and felt his hand twitching once more. He shut his eyes tight, trying to keep himself from trembling. He wanted to cry but instead kept balling his fist over and over.

"What's keeping you up, John?"

"It's not that I can't sleep, it's just-it's just…." He stuttered, trailing off and shuffling uncomfortably in his seat, "It's just I don't get any rest -I can't stop dreaming. That dream. The same damn"-

Just then his phone vibrated and set off his text-tone. His eyes slightly widened, not with excitement but with embarrassment. He shook his head and reached into his pocket.

"I'm sorry, so sorry, just let me….ah," He fished it out his pockets and found that a blocked number texted him, "Get that."

Come and see me. I'd like to finally meet you, Dr. Watson.

I've heard so very much about you.

-O

"Is everything alright, John?"

"What? Oh, yes, yes." He nodded, baffled and somewhat perplexed, he speedily replied.

Who is this? Where are you? How do you know me?

-JW

"I apologize, I'm so sorry"-

"John!" His therapists' voice became raised and strained, as her concern had peaked. He stared upnat her with alarm but found her features softening.

"Stop apologizing. Please. Stop saying sorry. John, You've done nothing to be sorry for. Please stop for yourself."

For a moment, he dared not to move or breathe. His eyed wandered slowly to the clock. Only fifteen minutes left and he felt his heart quickly pound.

"Well -yes. You're-you're right." He stuttered.

"Dreaming? Tell me what's going on John? What same dream?"

Watson felt his hand vibrate and his screen lit up the words:

A friend, of course. I hope. Mycroft is waiting outside to pick you up.

I'll see you soon, John.

-O

SNEAK PEAK: CHAPTER TWO/NEXT UPDATE

"He was in love with my imagination, Doctor. And I was in love with his genius & intellect. We were both young and stupid. But John, there's something else you don't know, Sherlock, he-he...our friendship was by far the most beautiful of our endeavors. Unfortunately, the love we shared would not endure. Far too much suffering."

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Hope you enjoyed this little bit -I'll update as soon!