Hey people enjoy the story!

Summary: From the moment He saw them together, Jim knew exactly who Sherlock's heart was…. And after all he still had a promise to make.

'Stay calm John, just stay calm,' the young military doctor told himself as he walked onto the warzone.

'Booooom' he was flying backwards. That one had been way to close. Someone screamed ahead of him and he ran to the voice. He knelt next to the dying man, 'Your going to be fine, mate,' he said trying to calm the panicking solder.

'I'm dying Doc, there's a hole in me stomach,' the man cried.

'Nah, look I'm- I'm going to-,' but before he could get anything else out he felt a searing, white hot pain shoot up his leg. He cried out and fell back clutching his bleeding leg.

Another much younger doctor ran up to him, 'Doctor Watson! Head Doctor Watson!'

He could faintly hear the voice crying out to him as his whole world was swallowed up into the darkness.

He shot up straight out of bed gasping for breath. He ran a hand through his hair and realized he had been sweating buckets. He breathed in and out to steady his gasping. John Watson layed back in bed though he knew he wouldn't be getting anymore sleep. Sighing he got up and walked down the stairs to the main room that he shared with a particularly disagreeable flatmate.

"Sherlock what are you doing up at this hour?" John asked as he came into the room and saw his friend staring at a lamp whilst sitting in his favorite chair.

"I could ask you the same thing, but I could hardly care," he said in his deep calculating voice.

John snorted and made himself a cup of tea, no sugar (he never put anything in his tea, not after the hound thing) and sat down on the chair opposite Sherlock.

"Still thinking about Moriarty?" He asked taking a sip of tea.

Sherlock glanced at him, "Isn't it obvious? What on earth else is there to think about?"

"Oh I don't know…. Women…. Books…. Attempting at being normal maybe," he said with hope in his voice.

"John I stopped attempting at being anything a long time ago," Sherlock snapped.

John chuckled and took another sip of his tea, "Any progress then?"

"If I had made any progress I wouldn't be here answering your simplistic questions now would I," he snapped.

"No…. suppose not," John said, taking it all in good humor; but that dream had shaken him. It had been a long time since he had had that dream and he only ever had it when something bad was going to happen; like when his sister got into that car accident or when his father had gotten really ill. He stared into the murky liquid of his tea in wonder.

"Didn't you hear me John?" Sherlock's voice said, bringing him out of his daze.

Sherlock huffed at having to repeat himself, "I said we need to go to St. Bart's so that I can reexamine the body again, are you coming," he asked already grabbing his coat.

John shrugged and grabbed his scarf. 'What could happen,' he thought as he walked out of his flat, but he didn't know just how wrong he was.

So hope you enjoyed! This is my first Sherlock Fic. So I hope It was good enough. Read and Review