An old man laid softly on his bed. He looked around his room at all the memories he'd made in this room. Shooting at the wall out of pure boredom. The huge yellow smiley faces on the wall. The pictures with his flat mate, his best friend. He smiled gently at the thought of his best friend, as a small glimmering tear fell down his face. His best friend, John Watson, had died 3 years earlier. He remembered how hard he cried.
He heard the door open, then swing shut. There was someone walking about in the kitchen. He heard the sound of his refrigerator opening and closing. The crinkle of grocery bags. The swinging of a cabinet.
"Sherlock?" came a voice. "Where are you?"
His bedroom door opened.
"There you are, Sherlock." said the boy with a smile.
"Hello, dear Archie." said Sherlock. "How have the cases been?"
"Sherlock, you're old now. You can't complete any cases from home, in your bedclothes. Stop implying." said Archie.
"I wasn't meaning to imply-" started Sherlock.
"Yes, you were. But they've been fine. Thank you for asking." interrupted Archie.
Sherlock didn't want to be old. He wanted to work. He wanted to work on cases. He wanted to solve mysteries, and murders, and crimes. But Archie was right. He couldn't.
"What did you bring me?" asked Sherlock, not wanting this to go on any longer than it had to.
"The basics. Vegetables, carrots and things. Meat, ham and roast beef. Fruits, apples, bananas. You have cheese, crackers and bread, too." said Archie.
"Thank you, my boy." said Sherlock, gently closing his eyes. "I'll just take a little nap. Thank you, dear boy."
"Sherlock," said Archie.
He opened his eyes.
"Before you sleep, I would still like to hear the story. If it's not too much trouble." said Archie.
"Of course you can still hear the story, Archie. Don't be silly." replied Sherlock.
"Thank you, Mr. Holmes." said Archie, calling him by what he used to.
"Alright at the beginning then. Once when I was only a bit younger than you, my boy, I met my one and only love. My best friend, John Watson. He was a doctor. He met me, and we went on many adventures and cases. He insisted on telling everyone he was not my boyfriend, so I let him keep it that way. Then, before he died, I told him I loved him. He said 'I know Sherlock. I love you too.' but I said 'No, John. I love you. Forever and always.' He looked at me, old and wrinkled and said 'Didn't you just hear me, you sociopath? I said I loved you.' I smiled and kissed him on the forehead. I felt all the life rush out of him. I tried to wake him, but it was no use. I felt sick. He was my one true love. And he was gone. I cried and cried. I put all of my soul into those tears, until finally the ambulances came and got him. It was the worst day of my life, but I knew he was in a better place. That's why when I go, I'll be so happy. You will take my place, and no one will miss me."
"No Sherlock. I can't replace you. And everyone will miss you." said Archie, as Sherlock drifted off. "Thank you for telling it to me."
Suddenly, Sherlock heard someone call his name, as this world broke apart. Above him, Sherlock saw John's mustache and smiled. He checked himself for wrinkles, and smiled wider when he found none.
"What did you dream about, Sherlock? Must have been a good dream, I couldn't get you out of it." John said.
"Nothing, John. But if you had to classify it, I suppose you could say I dreamt of the future." Sherlock said.
"Sounds interesting. And I'd love to talk about it, but we have a case." John said.
Sherlock jumped out of bed, smiling at his dream. "Coming, John." he said, rushing after his one and only love.