They passed many doors. They were all exactly the same. The white tiled floor was polished, except for along the walls. The walls of the corridor were light blue. They eventually reached the main entrance to the hospital and followed his doctor out into the bright outdoors. There were many cars driving by on the busy street. The sky was mostly clear except for a few clouds here and there. John took a deep breath. It's been a while since he's been outside, and it felt good. He found himself smiling like a clown, but a happy clown. He pictured himself on his way back to the flat when he got in the red car. It was small, with only a driver's seat and a passenger seat. His doctor got into the driver's seat and buckled up. John sat back and watched as the many buildings zoomed passed him.

The building where John was taking therapy was big and grey. He took in the view. The windows were identical and neatly placed, a small garden was planted by the door, and the door was big and brown. "I will be here in two hours. Try to be nice." John's doctor said. He looked back at her and he slowly started walking towards the door. He opened it, and found it to be quite heavy. It nearly squished him at first, but he was able to push it open far enough for him to get inside. When he walked through the door, the building had a heavy scent of coffee. John didn't mind the smell; in fact, he could go for some coffee too. He walked up to the front desk and said he had an appointment here. "Ah yes, are you John Watson?" the woman at the desk asked. Her hair was done up neatly and she had brown eyes. Her hair was light brown- like Molly's. Her complexion was like Molly's, too. She looked a lot like her. It was as if she was Molly. John shook that thought out of his head.

"Yes, I am John." He said. She smiled and got up to take him to his therapist's office. They didn't talk much along the way, for the walk wasn't very far. She gently knocked on the door and a call on the other side said, "Come in." The woman opened the door. Inside the room sat a woman of dark skin with really short hair. She had on a light pink blouse and her head was turned toward the now open door. "John?" she asked. "Yes, I am John. That's me." John quietly said. Come in and have a seat. John started towards the chair sitting across from his therapist. "My name is Doctor Truman." She said as she held out a hand, expecting John to shake it. He eventually did with a firm grip as they looked into each other's eyes. "So according to what I was informed, you are having trouble understanding that your friends don't exist. Am I correct?" She said, looking down at her keyboard then back up at me. "I- Yes. Yes, I am having trouble believing that I… I dreamt up my best friends." John admitted. "It's okay. There are actually some more people with the same problem here. Maybe someday I can have all of you here for a group therapy session. Would you be okay with that?" She asked. It didn't seem like such a bad idea to John, so he agreed to that. Doctor Truman kept asking John about what memories he holds from his 'fictional friends.' 'Fictional Friends' was what Doctor Truman said they were going to call his friends from his coma. After many minutes of protesting, John finally agreed. With every memory John explained thoroughly, Doctor Truman sat write there keeping her pen busy on paper. She had been recording the keywords John had said. Some of the keywords read, "Living together, serial killing cab driver, demonic dogs, and reading people like a book." John kept talking, memory after memory. He was calling everything from his time as a colleague of a consulting detective.

"Sally Donovan completely and utterly despised Sherlock. It seems as if the only thing she talked about was how much of a criminal Sherlock was. In my eyes, he was the exact opposite. He was a hero. Believe it or not, but he actually jumped from a building once. Pretty crazy, I know, but he did survive." John said, smiling at his memories. "How do you know he survived?" Truman asked. John smiled and shook his head. "I don't know how he did it, but one day which seemed like forever since that day he jumped, he ran into me as I was on my way to a date. The woman I had been dating, Mary, probably would've forgiven me, but she didn't understand that I had been devastated about Sherlock's death. I never told her, because I figured she didn't care, and I was trying my best to forget him." Truman's pen went faster and faster, collecting more information.

She slowly nodded her head as she studied her paper, now covered in words. "Okay, well our time is up. We can finish this next session, sound like a plan?" She asked. John smiled and nodded as he closed the door. The lady at the desk wasn't at the desk anymore. Someone else took her place, but he couldn't see who they looked like because their back was turned to him.

The car, which held his doctor, was sitting outside of the doors. John got in quickly. "So how was it?" His doctor asked. "It was okay. I got to recall a lot of good memories, so it made me feel good." She smiled and turned her head to the road. She started driving back to the hospital. John felt like a little kid telling his mum all about his day after the first day of school. "Doctor Truman is my therapist. She told me that there are many cases like mine. Are they at this hospital?" John asked, looking out of his window. His doctor shook her head. "I don't think so. If there is, I don't know about them."

"Oh. Well I guess that's okay. I'm going to meet them soon. We are going to have a group therapy session soon that will have all of us." John said with an excited hint in his voice. When John got back to his room, he laid on his bed and watched the telly until dinner was served to him. He had soup with potatoes in it and a few biscuits for desert. After his doctor took his -now clear- plate, he fell asleep.