*Authors Note* this is going to be my first fan fiction that is going to make sense. I honesty hope you like it! Read, write, review. No flames please, but I would enjoy anything you have to say that might improve my writing!
Sherlock looked around him. He was in a dark room, surrounded in silence. The detective had no clue what was going on, and he didn't like the feeling of being clueless.
Light suddenly light up the room he was in. He squinted in the sudden light. The detective was in a gray cell. A prison. He looked up at the door. It was John.
"John!" Sherlock called. A man stepped behind the doctor. Sherlock gasped.
'Moriarty!' he thought. 'Why is he here?'
"Hello Sherlock." Moriarty said in a sing-song voice. "Just thought I'd stop buy and…" The criminal mastermind pulled out a sharp, silver knife from his pocket. He put it to John's throat, and-
"NO!" Sherlock screamed, jumping up from his bed. His bed. 'Oh, Thank God. A dream. It was a dream.' Sherlock
"Sherlock? Is something wrong?" John was at his bedroom door now, looking worriedly at his flat mate.
"Oh, John! I-" Sherlock started to say, and then caught himself. "Fine. I'm Fine."
John walked over to the detective. "Lair." He said, and kissed Sherlock softly on the cheek. "Now tell me. What's wrong?"