A/N: For anyone who's read my profile, I my better half died on 10/28/02. As I am approaching the tenth anniversary of her death, I've found myself plagued by reminders that I have not yet fulfilled my promise. And, today, I stumbled across a song that left me wanting to cry. A rare event, to say the least. Every once in a while I will have these little emotional "spasms". Perhaps I can put them to good use here.

I promise to pick up and even wrap up "Sightless" in a few days; probably no more than a week.

In the meantime, I've decided to play around. These will be snapshot-type scenes and random shorts. They will probably not be connected to anything else. I really don't know where this is going to take me. But I will just call it a work in progress indefinitely.

These will all be little pieces inspired by music or lyrics. Artist credits will be listed with each chapter. Oh yeah, and I suppose I should mention I have a habit of chopping the lyrics to suit my needs here. And no slash is intended, though I'm sure some would view it otherwise. I leave that up to personal opinion. I'm just making my perspective here known.

And, no, I'm not starting with the one that spawned this series. That one is Seven Channels: Breathe

...Let me die on my own terms

Let me live and let me learn

Now I follow my own way

And I'll live on to another damn day

Freedom carries sacrifice

Remember when this was my life

~3 Doors Down: Life of My Own

Holmes was not surprised to find he had awoken choking on another scream. The night around him outside the tent was chilly. But the chill of the scene he had watched yet again in his dreams chilled him more deeply than even an Arctic winter could have hoped to achieve.

How long had it been?

How many months would these nightmares continue?

How long would he wander the world a ghost, a dead man?

Holmes turned these things over in his mind as he lit the candle with trembling hands. He had watched from the cliff above that day. He had seen his Watson crying out, begging for him to answer...to deny the death he saw in those raging waters below. It was all he could do not to answer those heart-wrenching cries. They had gone from concern, to disbelief, to guilt, to pleading, and finally ended in a wordless scream of rage and denial at the unfairness of the loss that had echoed off the rock walls and through Holmes' soul.

Silently Holmes pleaded with God that Watson would understand. He begged for confirmation that he had made the right decision in abandoning his friend, his home, his life.

Now he was alive and a part of Watson was dead. He had sacrificed so much to buy the freedom he needed to finally put an end to the last remnants of Moriarty's budding empire in the criminal world.

Briefly Holmes closed his eyes as he recalled a time before. He remembered when his life had been his own and he had struggled to begin his eccentricly unique career. But he had not been alone even then. Watson had been there. It seemed, now, as if Watson had always been there. Despite all his rational thinking and logical reasoning, he could not remember a time when Watson had not been there. Those memories so long removed now seemed...wrong, empty.

Yes, those years spent in the company of his dearest friend and partner, Watson were what he remembered now of his life. But that life was gone now. The memories were all he had left, and the hope that one day he could return and find a way to make it up to Watson.