Prologue, post-The Great Game for Sherlock. Post-A Christmas Carol and pre-Series 6 premiere for Doctor Who.

All Dr. John Watson could think was "thank God for Mycroft." Dozens of SAS soldiers stormed in as the red flashing lights disappeared from Sherlock and John's chests as some of the agents had already taken care of the snipers from afar.

Jim Moriarty looked incredibly displeased, although being the genius he was, he obviously knew that this was an outcome. He'd come unprepared too. He had lied. Changeable wasn't his only weakness. There was also overconfident. He made a quick dash for it and miraculously made it, even with all SAS chasing after him.

Sherlock Holmes threw one last glance back at his colleague and brother before sprinting off after them. "Sherlock!" John protested. Mycroft called his brother's name as well.

The former soldier chased after his flatmate, narrowly missing a rack of flotation aids as he rounded the corner out the door. "Sherlock!" John shouted again. He could see the formally dressed Sherlock disappearing into the night. The chase was futile but John went after Sherlock and Moriarty anyway. Soon, the doctor was quite aware that he was the only one around. The SAS had mysteriously faded into the dark night. "Sherlock!" he cried, voice hoarse. "Sherlock, get back here dammit!"

But they were gone. And John was alone.

Mycroft suddenly appeared beside him and tried to lead him away. Lestrade had arrived as well, Sgt. Donavon flanking his right side. John could only guess Anderson was around somewhere, waiting to rattle on about how Sherlock was a psychopath.

A full scale investigation was launched on the disappearance of Sherlock Holmes. John was subject to many interrogations and calls to the pool. He was also the one everyone went to for the latest gossip. Only Mrs. Hudson and Molly Hooper knew not to pry too much. Anderson seemed to enjoy pestering John until the former army doctor finally threatened to gun him down.

Then came the dream. Of course, it was only a dream but nevertheless it felt real. John watched as Sherlock, dressed in the same attire as the night of the pool incident with Moriarty, confronted what evidently was truly his "archenemy." Sherlock's clothes looked shabby and a few cuts graced his usually, perfectly groomed face. The corners of his lips twisted into a crooked frown. Then, John finally took Moriarty's appearance into notice. Although he seemed in a slightly better condition than Sherlock, there were still signs that there had been a struggle between the two.

They were at Reichenbach Falls and they were both standing dangerously close to the ledge. All of a sudden, John's view of the dream started to slip away and John bolted up right, breaking into cold sweat. Outside, the first touch of sunrise had started to ease itself into the horizon.

Fumbling in the dark, John tried to reach his charging mobile. Just as he was about to dial a number, a call came in, right from the person he needed to talk too.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade, you need to check Reichenbach," John blurted into the phone.

"How'd you-" The DI stopped himself. "He's been rubbing off on you no doubt. I'm here now," he said, "Got a little tip off from a strange man."

John's heart clenched in fear. What if it had been Jim Moriarty himself? "Who was it?"

"Don't know," Lestrade answered. "Didn't get a name, but it wasn't Moriarty. Not from the profiles we've seen and from what we've gathered, he wouldn't show his face like that."

John let his shoulders slump just the slightest. "What about Sherlock?"

"There's no one here John. No body, just footprints and your gun."

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Now you're all wondering about John's rather cliched (PeterPetrelli-like) dream.
/wink/ All will explained.