He stood completely still at first, not daring to look around or even move.
But when he felt a slight breeze on his face, he opened his eyes.
He was on a meadow.
Sherlock was on a meadow.
What on earth am I doing here?
He decided to take a look around, and at himself. He was wearing a white shirt, black pants, and oddest thing, no shoes. But he couldn't really complain, the grass felt so soft.
He looked up and tried to see what was around him. Bright blue sky, very green grass, and a forest surrounding him.
It was very bright, and the breeze hadn't changed the slightest since he first noticed it.
He turned around and saw even more forest. It was like a ring of tall trees.
Well, that was a surprise… he drawled in his head.
He tried to place where he might be, but he couldn't. He couldn't think. No foothold, nothing to hang on to, nothing. Everything stood completely still. As soon as he thought he recognized something, it flickered and disappeared and Sherlock was left with nothing.
Just then he saw movement. There was someone on his right.
He turned fast and saw…
John.
Not black suit, eyes blazing-John.
Normal John.
He felt something. Something in his heart, and for some reason, he winced.
He didn't really know why he was feeling this feeling inside, all he knew was that normal looking-John was only walking a few feet away from him, smiling. Which frankly, creeped him out.
He stopped and opened his mouth to say something. Sherlock braced himself for some awful voice and black eyes, but instead he got…
"Sherlock." In John's normal voice and that smile. The smile that looked genuine.
He felt another stab in the chest. He still couldn't figure out why though. Or what to say. So he just stood there.
"Are you just going to continue to stare at me? Or do you plan on saying something?"
"Well… This isn't helping." He gestured to him and to the rest of this place.
"Yes, well, would you like me to change the scenery?" he smirked.
"No, no… It's…" he didn't know what to say.
So he just blurted the first thing that came to his mind.
"I just… I can't figure this out, Joh…" he stopped. It didn't feel right.
John's smile disappeared. He looked away, turning slightly away from Sherlock.
"You aren't supposed to figure this one out, Sherlock. It was never meant for you to figure out," he said, but Sherlock couldn't quite hear the words.
John's normal posture, voice and personality was back. He tried hard to focus on the words.
"He was getting restless. Or rather bored. That's the main reason you're getting to know this."
"Wait, wait… He? This? Who is 'he', and what exactly is this?" he asked, seeing as everything he ever tried to remember flew away from him.
John turned to face Sherlock now, and took a few steps closer to him.
At first he just stood there, looking at Sherlock.
Then, after a while, he said,
"Moriarty, Sherlock. Or that's what he calls himself anyways. Not important right now. You see, he was getting tired of not letting you… know. And this," he gestured around and directly at himself,
"is what he was getting tired of. You have realized that we're not normal, have you?"
"Yes, yes. No need for sarcasm, John." And immediately regretted it.
It still felt odd.
But then… something.
Something flashed in John's eyes. Not the black, endless darkness that probably should've come up, but he looked... regretful. Or something similar to regret.
"John…" he said as he closed the space between the two, only inches separating them.
John looked at him, not with the black eyes, but they were different from what they were before. Closed off. Guarded.
"Yes, Holmes?"
"Don't do that. Don't call me by my last name. Don't play around with me. Tell me now. What is this? And why can't I figure this one riddle out? John." He said all of this with an impatient tone and a rush, but the last word, his name, he said in a completely flat voice.
"Do you want the answers in order? Okay, let's see…
One, do what exactly? 2, alright Sherlock," he said happily,
"3, I'm not playing anything, and 4, I already told you what it is. Kind of. And 5. Because for once, you've met someone that outsmarted you. And this is something that's beyond you, Sherlock. This isn't just about you, or how you solve your puzzles. It's everywhere. We're everywhere. I can't explain it better than that."
During the preach he just gave, Sherlock noticed how John's posture became stricter, the wind picked up a little and that they were standing incredibly close now.
"No. No. That is not a sufficient answer. You could never have lied to me like that. You could never have faked all of that." He said frustrated.
"No, you're probably right about the faking part."
"What? That doesn't even make sense."
"Yes, I guess it doesn't… but for now, that'll have to do."
"Wha-"
"Sleep tight Sherlock, I suppose I'll see you later." He said with a smile. That quickly changed from real, to a sad one.
And just before Sherlock fell and everything went black, John's smile disappeared and he mouthed, "I'm sorry".