It was mainly the hot light that scared John to death. Sweat dripped into his eyes, but he wiped it away. He was used to the salt, used to the burn, and he couldn't risk taking his eyes off the scope long enough to wipe them. It didn't matter, anyway; there wasn't a part of him that wasn't drenched in sweat or covered in sand.

He blinked again.

It was bright, too. The sun seemed to love bouncing off every surface straight into his already- burning eyes. Through the scope, everything was magnified. Everything was sharper, more intense, and more real.

In a way, everything was better like this: through a scope, from a distance.

Especially when it all went to hell.

John woke with a thud.

A slight pain coursed through his bad leg when he connected with the underside of his bed. It hurt like hell, but was only slightly worse than the rest of him. He laid his head back down, rubbing his eyes. He had the dream again, only this time, it didn't end like the others; this time he saw the mangled bodies blow up into tiny pieces, and then disintegrate into nothing.

Just the thought of the dream made John want to throw up, which would've been better then sleeping on the floor and sweating to death.

"You had it again, didn't you?"

At the sound of his voice, John flew up, hurting his back even more. "How did you..." John began, "You know what, it doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters. You fell off your bed which is an improvement from the screaming, though I didn't mind that," Sherlock said, watching as John picked himself off of the floor.

"You didn't mind my screaming? Quite frankly, I minded it very much." John wandered over to his dresser and began sorting through his clothing for the day. He needed something comfortable, but practical seeing as how Sherlock no doubt picked a case for the day.

"Well, that's because it was you. I found it very soothing, especially since it reminded me of a murderer." Sherlock gave John a small smile, patting the older man on the shoulder. "You know, it might help to talk about it, I've heard it to be true."

"Yeah, well you should be telling yourself that. Now, can you please leave, I don't feel comfortable undressing with you in here."

"Already ahead of you, and John?"

"Yes?"

"Hurry, we have a case in ten." With that Sherlock ran down the stairs, giggling the whole way.

"Of course we do."