I'd Trade All Of My Tomorrows

Shwatsonlock fic

I do not own Sherlock.

Ch.1

The ground behind him is canvassed a dark scarlet as a bullet crashes through Sherlock's forehead. He drops to the ground almost instantly, his face remaining stoic. I see his liquefied eyes lock on me as he falls. He hit the ground face down, the tense of his muscles soothe away as the ghost of one last breath glides between his paling lips.

All goes black.

. . .

I stare out the window of my hospital room. I see the people walking calmly, untouched by the tragedy crushing at my mind. It's only been one day since Moriarty's bullet crushed Sherlock's brilliant mind, destroying his life, and creating a ghost of his soul.

I can't believe it's only been a matter of hours since the last time my eyes met those of Sherlock's, since I felt a warm feeling as my hand brushed against his chilled fingers, since I realized my undying love for him. I miss him. I miss him more than anything, more than everything. He's etched himself into my mind, so that the only thing I can think of, the only thing my mind can truly rest upon is one thing. Him.

The urge to sleep claws at my mind; but I'm afraid. I fear sleeping because I know the only thing I'll see is Sherlock. My mind will allow nothing else, there's nothing left for me to imagine. Even nightmares of Afghanistan cannot compare to those of Sherlock Holmes.

I think try to focus on things outside my window, things on the other side of my glass barrier. But I can't. everything reminds me of him.

'Sherlock's eyes were the exact same color as the sky is today.' I think.

Suddenly, I find myself wondering if Sherlock sees me right now. If he misses me as much as I miss him. If-

''I do miss you greatly, John.'' I hear someone say. Quickly I look up, positive it was Sherlock who had spoken, for no one could mimic such a smooth, deep voice. I feel the tears sting at my eyes as I realize there really isn't anyone else in the room. The tears fall freely as I realize I have no one left to expect anyway. My thoughts fade and scatter as the nurse enters the room.

''Mr. Watson?'' I don't look up. ''You're free to go now. Your clothes are on the chair.'' And she leaves.

I stand up and change. I decide to look at myself in the bathroom mirror before I make my leave. I immediately regret that. I look like a complete loon. Deep, dark, bags make themselves comfortable under my eyes, which are red around the rims. My hair is sticking out around my head, each and every hair standing on end erectly.

''Ugh. I look terrible.'' I mumble to myself in a low whisper.

''Wrong.'' I hear the voice again. This time, I whirl around alertly. Still though, no one's there. I shake my head and look down. I'm positive it was Sherlock's voice I heard. There's no way it wasn't. The pitch of the voice, the soft rumble in his throat he makes directly before speaking. It was all too perfect.

I sigh, feeling the tears eat away at my tired eyes again before I turn and as I walk away I hear the voice- no- his voice mutter,

''I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday with you, John.''

A/N:

Thanks for reading. Erin, the word 'erectly' used in the beginning was used entirely for you. I don't think this fan fic will really cut it, so please review telling me if you'd like more or if this is a terrible fan fic. Just think, all you need to do in order to save a fan fic is REVIEW.