FanFiction
BBC Sherlock
Title: Not Losing You
Summary: Sherlock has a nightmare that John gets killed by Moriarty. The nightmare happens during the pool scene in The Great Game episode. He has a nightmare about an event that never occurred.
Not Losing You
There was s creek of a door being opened somewhere in the room. Sherlock turned, hoping to find the "gamer" standing there. But it was not the criminal at all. A short figure with flat, blonde hair stepped out from the separate hallway. Hands in his coat pockets, he emerged out from the corner and put a emotionless expression on his face. Sherlock couldn't believe his eyes…
"Evening," the figure said.
"John…What the hell…?"
The shape of John Watson stood before Sherlock Holmes. Confused, Sherlock slowly began to walk towards his companion. John stood, speaking words that he would not say from his own mouth. His hands slowly protruded from his pockets, and they pulled back the unzippered coat. A large mechanical device with wires was attached to John's chest. Red and blue lights blinking, the bomb was secured onto Sherlock's friend. Out of nowhere, a small red dot rose to land directly on his heart. And without thinking any longer, Sherlock shouted out in the room, the pool waves rippling slightly. "Who are you?"
"Jim Moriarty." A man stepped out from the shadows, almost completely blending in. His navy blue suit mixed with the black around him, making him look like the midnight sky. He paced up and down the opposite side of the pool, talking to Sherlock all the while. Eventually, he walked over to where John was standing, almost frozen.
Several, long minutes passed. Sherlock's hand was slightly sweaty as he held the gun, aiming it at Jim. He still hadn't shot. He hadn't fired the gun. Jim walked away from John and exited out the door where John had entered.
"Catch you later." Sherlock's voice echoed all throughout the room.
"No you won't!" came almost a taunting reply from Jim before the door closed with a click. Sherlock keep his eyes locked on the door for several seconds. Then, out of the silence, there came a crack of a gunshot, and Sherlock heard a whizzing noise go by his ear. The crack, however, did not come from Sherlock's gun. He turned in shock as John gave out a scream of agony and he realized what had happened. Sherlock was mortified by the sound that yelled from John's mouth as it echoed all over the walls surrounding the pool.
"John! No!" John gave out another terrible cry of pain and his knees buckled under himself. He collapsed to the floor in a matter of seconds, blood sprouting from the wound in his chest. He held his hands over where the bullet had hit him, and he was curled in a ball on the floor. Sherlock rushed over to John and sat next to him on the floor, turning John over onto his back and cradling him in his arms. John kept crying out in pain. "John, I'm here. It's ok."
Sherlock placed a soft, sweaty hand on John's cheek, and he gave him a small smile. Then he grabbed John's hand in his, returning the sad expression to his face and comforting John. "It's ok. I'm here. You'll be ok." Sherlock's hand moved to the jacket and he pulled it away from John's body, not wanting to see what lay beneath. The spot around the wound was covered in dark, wet blood.
A single tear fell from John's eye. He looked up at Sherlock, eyes sad and teary. "I didn't think it would end like this, Sherlock. I don't want to leave you. Keep solving cases for me."
"John, no." Sherlock pleaded. He did not want to lose his…best friend. "John no, it's ok, you'll be alright. You're not going to die. Not while I'm here."
"Remember when you asked me that? 'If you were dying, in your last few moments, what would you say?' Well, I know what I would say. Goodbye Sherlock. I…love…you…" John's words stammered; his voice faded. Sherlock was shocked, and he gripped John's hand more tightly. John gasped for air, his breath was short and he had trouble exhaling out of his mouth. He took one last, final look at his best friend, before he breathed out one last time. His head sank, his eyes closed slowly, and the fingers in Sherlock's hand went limp. John's arm fell to the floor, and he moved no more.
"Sherlock…"
The overwhelming emotion of shock and depression hit Sherlock as he sat on the floor. His eyes swelled up with tears as he pulled his lost friend in closer to him. He cried, wept over John's body. His body was hit with a feeling of emptiness, as if he had just lost a part of his heart. He never cried this much in his life, but now he was just letting the tears run slowly down his face.
"John, please, no." Sherlock tried shaking John, but he did not stir. He knew he was dead, but he tried anyway.
"Sherlock…" He was never going to wake. He was stuck in the terrible nothingness that awaited him…
"Sherlock!" A rough hand was clasping Sherlock's shoulder. He woke with a start, eyes flinging open. Sherlock rolled over in his bed to find John standing over him. His face was burning, and sweat and tears covered his face.
"Are you alright? You were shouting, and…yelling my name. I thought you were being attacked."
Sherlock took in several short, heavy breaths. Then, after a while, he replied, "I'm fine. It's nothing…"
"You're not fine Sherlock. You're white as a sheet. Now, tell me…" John lowered himself onto the bed next to Sherlock. "What happened? In the…nightmare?"
"Nothing happened. I told you, I'm fine." Sherlock gripped his eyes shut and put his head in his hands. His shirt clung to him with sweat as he racked his brain, thinking of the terrible things that now haunted him forever.
"Sherlock, I'm serious. Tell me. I can help. From the amount of times I've had a nightmare, I know what it's like. Please." John placed a rough hand on Sherlock shoulder and began to rub it up and down his back, trying to comfort his best friend.
Sherlock's mouth twitched as he tried to release the words from his mouth. "I…I…" But before he could answer, tears started to roll down his long, pale face.
"Sherlock…" John pulled his friend into a tight hug. It was incredible how Sherlock could fit into John's arms, considering he was almost five inches taller. John continued to murmur words of comfort, until he lifter Sherlock's chin up with his hand. John's soft blues eyes looked into Sherlock's scared, light green eyes. The sadness in John's eyes made Sherlock give in and tell him what was wrong.
"I…I lost you. We were at the pool, and…Moriarty was there. Right after he walked away, you were shot. I…I couldn't believe it. I couldn't, I didn't want to lose you…"
"Oh Sherlock." John pulled him into another hug. "It's ok. I'm never going to leave you. Everything will be ok. Nothing like that will ever happen to you, or me. I promise."
Sherlock sniffed his nose. "But, you said something to me, in my nightmare. You said, I…love…you."
John stared at Sherlock's shining face. His wandered down and he gave him a sweet smile. "Come on. Go wash your face. You need to cool yourself off. "
Sherlock gave a small nod and got up from the bed. "I'll be right back Sherlock, ok?" John twisted his back to face him. Sherlock gave another nod in acceptance.
The water felt comforting on Sherlock's face as he splashed it. He rubbed it on his cheeks, his neck, behind his ears, and on his forehead. He then tried to flatten his hair, as it had been messed up from him tossing and turning in his sleep. Satisfied, he walked out of the bathroom to find John sitting on the edge of the bed again and a glass of water on the bedside table. Sherlock tilted his head, and John understood the questions without words.
"I'm going to stay in here for a while. Actually, I'll probably spend the night in here." Sherlock smiled and climbed into bed, his feet rubbing under the covers against John's leg.
"Is it true?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows to look at John when he asked the question.
"Is what true?" John hated his curiosity but asked the question anyway.
"That you love me?" The world went silent for a moment as John stared at his consulting detective.
The adorable smile crossed John's face as his hand scanned over the covers. It found Sherlock's own hand, and Sherlock looked down at the clasping hands.
"I do. I would do anything for you Sherlock."
"Really John? You would?"
"I really would." Sherlock collapsed onto the pillows, still holding John's hand and not caring. And he fell asleep to the most heart-warming words he'd heard, ever.
"You know why? Because you're my friend. My best friend. My consulting detective."
The world went dark around Sherlock's eyes as sleep fell over him. The whirl of colors in his room faded to black, and John's soft voice was heard in his ears one last time before he had peaceful sleep.
"My Sherlock."
