No…
No, I never thought it would come to this…
This… I've never made this huge mistake…
The mistake of loosing him…
JOHN'S POV
How long has it been? I mean, it took a lot of patience, I mean a BUNDLE of patience, tolerance, and handling to cope up with this dynamic and enigmatic person. This man beside me who's talking up highly as to make everyone look stupid and acknowledge his brilliance and intelligence, is my flat-…
Well, let me hold that thought… is unfortunately my flatmate.
The bastard's name?
"Sherlock Holmes, are you getting insane?" Lestrade shouted, getting me back to reality.
"Well, you want to solve this series of murder cases do you, Detective Inspector?" Sherlock said, as to indicate a tone of sarcasm.
"Mocking me again, huh?" Lestrade now raises an eyebrow. I think it's time for me to step in.
"Err, I…"
"Well, if you are desperate enough to figure anything else, which evidently is not the case, feel free to call me anytime, or John." Sherlock ended the conversation, turning his back from the Scotland Yard officer. "Let's go, John."
Lestrade scoffed, as I mouthed to him, "Gotta go."
"What was that about?" I scowled at Sherlock, trying to get my tone higher.
"Oh come on John, stop scolding me in the process. I'm trying to get us a case."
"Yes, a case which you know they can handle. They just need you at desperate times Sherlock, not every time. If you knew, you never wanted to be a consulting detective, rather you should've been a Yarder."
"Don't make this a big deal anymore."
Sherlock called a cabbie not far enough. He was the first to climb up in the car. As soon as I got in, I was about to still tick him off, but he had already closed his eyes, as if drifting off into another universe. This view of him, of him being so calm is the very opposite of that nagging, self-important man I saw earlier puts me in a state of tranquility.
It's not like I'm Sherlock Holmes's best friend.
SHERLOCK'S POV
I'm tired.
I'm tired of not having a case, of always having to hang around the flat, of John's "how being a human even in some minimal extent" lectures. But who am I to complain? After all, he is my best friend and I like him accompanying me.
Even though I was shutting my eyes, I could tell that he is looking at me sternly, observing what my thoughts were.
"I'm sorry." I opened the conversation with him.
"Hmm?" he replied. I opened my eyes and looked directly at him. He immediately turned his head to the cabbie's window, as if looking at the street, which is really obvious to him.
"You know I'm irritated with my brain not working over complicated things. Gets rusty."
"Yeah. But what I just want is you to approach other people gently, not turning them down at the instant they open their mouths." Now he's having a direct eye contact with me.
"Still working on it. How should I say this, um, baby steps for character development?" I smiled ending the statement. I found a tingle of a smile forming on his face.
"Well, we wouldn't want to immediately rush to it, right?" We both giggled.
This man, in his black jacket and even in his small height, is the only person who can control this machinelike personality of mine. He is my buffer system.
Huff
Why is it dark in here? Where am I?
Wait, am I holding something? Is this… an ax?
An ax with a lot of blood?
John? John?!
John, who-… why are you lying on the ground, bloody? Who the fuck did this to you?
Why are you pointing at… no, no this can't be!
Don't say that I… I…
JOHN'S POV
Finally! Lying on the couch is still my best past time. Partnered with a nice cup of English tea is a very effective stress reliever. I grabbed the remote and hovered over the channels. Apparently, they have redecorated the interior of the Buckingham. The rest is the usual stuff, thus the boring ones. Don't know if I had set a high standard on TV news now given that I witness most of them, and where some I even took part of.
The whole flat is quiet now. Setting Mrs. Hudson aside who is still watching a baking show since her TV volumes were so loud. Sherlock must have fallen asleep, or else he will be tinkering with that microscope of his. Hmm, Sherlock falling asleep is a rare phenomenon. He must be really tired looking for a case to suit him.
I realized that I haven't checked my blog recently. Currently, I have published a total of 32 cases and now the counter has risen about a thousand. And yet currently I have nothing to put here. I now feel Sherlock's disappointment.
I was about to reread one of our recent cases when…
No, no this can't be!
"Sherlock?" I knocked at his door hard. "Sherlock!" I called out once again. I turned the door knob. It's locked.
Don't say that I… I…
"Hey Sherlock, wake up!" I tried calling hard from the other side while banging his door in the hopes of waking him up. Then I heard something fall on the floor, more like a lamp. "Sherlock." I called him. There was no response, and it bothers me.
"I'm fine John." Finally, I heard him. But his voice… it's as if his panting.
"Open the door. Are you alright?" I was expecting for him to open it.
"I'm good. Sorry for disturbing you. Please go back as you were."
"I sure as hope that you're telling the truth."
"Yes, I am. Probably an effect of not getting sleep from the past weeks. Body adjustments."
"Sure you don't want to…"
"Good night John."
Silence, then walked toward that portion of the flat.
SHERLOCK'S POV
Why?
Why did I have such nightmare? And on top of all, why am I covered with John's blood? What happened? How could I such do things?
Snap out of it!
I calmed my hardwired brain. Logic. Logic puts me right back on track. I breathe deeply. I still do not have an explanation whatsoever in the meaning of such dream. But I would entrust that to its scientific and logical explanation: maybe the side effects of narcotics. I looked at the portion of the floor where the shattered pieces of the light bulb lie from the fallen lamp. As I contemplate, my own eyes shut on their own, not noticing I went back lying in bed.
So this is how my day officially ends.