Prologue
"Sherlock!" John's voice rang out as he sat up in his bed, drenched in sweat. He was panting heavily and had to close his grey blue eyes and let out a sigh. It had been nearly two years, and he had not stopped dreaming about it. The frequency of his nightmares has diminished substantially, however when they resurfaced they did so with vigor. The memory was still so fresh in his mind, despite having been bleary at the time, of Sherlock, sprawled on the pavement the blood that pooled around him. John let out a hefty sob like sound as he lay back into his bed and put his hands on his face.
"Jesus….Sherlock. Jesus." His whispers were swallowed by the hallow room of the simple apartment he had taken residence in. He couldn't bear to be back at Baker Street alone. He had certainly tried, but he would wake to the sounds of a violin that he knew he had only dreamt. It would have driven him crazy to stay, as it was every now and again the ring of his ex-best friend's deep voice would echo through his head. "Boring". "Idiot." "Look John. Just Look." Besides he was trying to move on trying to forget. He'd secured a steady job at a clinic. Even had a girl he fancied. So why he was still plagued with these nightmares? His guilt eluded him. He could understand why his hand shook sometimes; why now and again he would have a pang in his heart when he saw a particularly strange case in the newspaper. Nostalgia was expected, but why was it that he felt so hopelessly guilty. It was a question that had been swimming around his head for months now and each time he attempted to answer he came up more clueless then the time before.
He rubbed his hands across his tired eyes and into his sandy hair letting out another sigh as he glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand with disdain. Three in the morning? And he probably wouldn't be able to sleep for the rest of the night.
With a grunt he settled back into the bed and let his eyes rest on the ceiling and let his mind wonder back to the days of clue hunting.
