Disclaimer: Not mine…still. Geez. You'd think people would know this by now.

A/N: So I've read a few stories where Sherlock dreamed John into life or drew him to life or something else along those lines. This is my take on an idea like that. Skull John to Man John. Enjoy. Oh and duh, it's an AU. And everyone is OOC, not terribly but somewhat.

Lonely?

Sherlock Holmes was lonely. Wait. What? Had he actually had that thought? The thought that he was lonely? Ridiculous. Delete.

Sherlock shook his head to clear the echoes of that ridiculous thought before again lifting the dropper to the Petri dish he was experimenting with. There was no room in his life for such distracting feelings. He wasn't lonely. He was quite happy all by himself. He didn't need anyone.

The skin in the dish sizzled slightly as he added one drop too many and Sherlock scowled. Damn his mind anyway. Why was it choosing today to run amok? He had to finish this experiment; a woman's life depended on it!

I am lonely. Again? What? Impossible. Delete.

This time the thought had the temerity to come while he was at a crime scene. He wasn't lonely and he most certainly wasn't alone. Lestrade was leaning on the wall across from him and Anderson was right at his side blathering at him about something though he wasn't actually listening to the idiot.

He scowled to himself. He needed to focus. He didn't have time for these distractions. He had to concentrate there was something he was missing; what was it? Ah! There the fiber on the man's cuff. Right, time to solve Lestrade's case for him, again.

Loneliness is a state of being alone, companionless. Alone. Not again! I am alone because I wish to be! I don't like idiots and everyone is an idiot! Delete.

Angelo's was crowded with people. He was the only one sitting at a table by himself. He wanted it that way though, he didn't like distractions. Though it would be interesting if he had someone to listen to the deductions he was making in his head.

Sherlock shook the thought off. No one wanted to hear what he had to say unless it was about a case. The Work was all that mattered and it was all he needed.

Sherlock Holmes needed a friend to relieve the loneliness. What? Why won't you delete? Delete!

Sherlock viciously threw the beaker he was holding at the wall and scowled as it started to eat through the wood. He was not lonely! He didn't need a friend! He needed a CT scan to find out what was wrong with his brain.

I need a friend. I do not! Bloody…Delete!

Sherlock sighed and rubbed at his forehead. Where had this idiotic thought come from in the first place? He was getting sick of this. The persistent thought resisted all his attempts at deletion and distraction. He did not need a friend. He didn't need anyone. He could be far more stubborn than this thought, he had to be. No one would want to be his friend anyway.

He rubbed at his head again refusing to acknowledge the pang in his chest.

A friend. A companion. Someone to talk to. Someone to share things with. To stop this feeling of loneliness. No! I am not lonely. Delete! Delete! Delete!

The thought was now accompanied by a stab of pain in the chest. Sherlock rubbed at his chest right above the beat of his heart. This was becoming intolerable. He shook off the pain and the thought of another CT scan or maybe an MRI and sipped at his tea in the lovely, quiet solitude of his flat.

What did it matter if the silence was beginning to wear on him? What did it matter if he would like for someone else to make his tea every once in a while? He scowled down at his cuppa and shook his head again. He was perfectly capable of making his own tea. He didn't need a friend.

I need a friend. DELETE!

But the thought would not delete. It persisted. It followed Sherlock Holmes around like a lost puppy. Always there with big, sad eyes and pleading whines. It was distracting and irritating. He had never had a friend before. Had no idea how to go about finding one but evidently his brain would not stop this infernal pestering until he'd done so.

How did a normal person find a friend? Not wanting anyone else to know of his lack of knowledge and not knowing what else to do he checked the internet. After all, cyberspace had everything.

For once it failed him. He wasn't a normal person and the ideas for finding friends were just so banal and boring. Find other people with common interests, have interest in their topics of conversation, go out with them to the cinema or plays or concerts or the pub. All of it useless and nothing that he liked to do. There had to be some other way to find a friend. But how? Experiment? No, that wouldn't work. Even he knew that experimenting to find a friend was useless and could be frankly dangerous.

Compile a list of useful traits for a friend to have, his brain supplied suddenly. Good idea. That would help. At least he'd know what to look for among the mass of people that inhabited the planet with him.