Fragments

I haven't written any fan fiction in 5 years or more. But recently, a certain fandom has really sparked my desire to jump back in with both feet.

This is just a little drabble to kinda stick my toes in the water, shake of the rust and dust of the writing part of my brain, and see what I could do in this new (to me) fandom.

Set a month after "The Reichenbach Fall".

I hope you like, and PLEASE feel free to comment, good or bad. I'd love to know if you guys think I should write more "Sherlock" stuff.

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John still wasn't sleeping well. He'd close his eyes, and the fragments would come.

Fragments.

Fragments of memories popped into his head as he attempted to sleep. A few words from a totally innocuous conversation, or a flash of a location, or even a face.

THAT face.

And it would always end the same.

THE FALL.

Blood on the sidewalk.

No pulse.

The doctors pulling him away from his dead friend.

From-

NO.

He refused to say it.

A month past, and it was all still too raw.

He cursed himself, sitting up in bed, sweat dampening his brow.

He couldn't go on like this.

His eyes were sunken and dark. He barely ate, he barely slept, he would sleepwalk through his days at the practice.

The days that he could be arsed to get out of bed at all.

Deep breaths.

Deep breaths.

When his heart rate finally decided to get back to some semblance of normality, he settled his head back on the pillow and pulled the comforter tight around him.

It was going to be a long night.