Short! Apologies, my hands are really bad but I had to write this! Now the angst will come. Apologies but it's planned since the fic was started because I am unable to start a story with the end or the middle appearing in my mind straight after.

ENJOY!


SHERLOCK

"Alright mate. Time for bed." Already? But it's...Oh right. I do not know the time. I should ask John to teach me. I used to tell the time via the routines of other zombies. Also the sky going dark helped as well.

I struggled off John's 'bed' and into my nest of cushions, taking my blanket with me. John decided to brush his teeth whilst I huddled under my blanket. The rain pouring down outside, followed by the occasional claps of thunder and then lightening. There was no logical reason for me to be frightened of it. It was just weather. And yes, it was loud. But logically I should not be concerned. But perhaps logic did not work where zombies were concerned. When John returned, he quickly climbed into bed, burying his head beneath the covers.

"Lock?"

"Yes?" Not good night yet then?

"Can I ask you a question?" You've never asked permission before.

"Of c-course, John."

"Does everyone bitten by a zombie turn into one when they die?" No. It depends on the location of the wound. For example if you eat their brain they definitely do not come back.

"No."

"Makes sense. Sorry. I was just curious." Against my better judgement I ask why. I hear him turn to look at me, even though the room is dark.

"Mike. Wondered if he was out there. He was a good friend." Mike. Yes, the man I killed.

"No."

"S'alright. Thanks for answering." I am sorry, John.

"Night Lock."

"G-good..John?"

"Lock?"

"...I am s-sorry."

John looked at me confused. I do not want to say what I am about to say. But I have to. He needs to know. And I need to get it off my chest. Because this man was a friend. "I..I..did it."

"What? What did you do?" He chuckled, confused but concerned.

"Mike."

There was a pause and then suddenly realisation. Oh. He says. I see. Good night. And then he turns away. I hear him mutter, I think I suspected that. But it is not directed to me. There is a horrible feeling in my chest. I think it is guilt. I curl into the pillows with the player in my arms. Though it is turned off. I want to watch something, to ignore what I have just done. Distract myself. But it was the right thing to do, wasn't it? The truth was important. However, perhaps John's ignorance was also important. He will be very angry in the morning.

What have I done?


JOHN

"Oh. I see. Good night."

And I pulled the covers over my head. "I think I suspected that"

I should have known. It makes sense in away. After all, he was the closest zombie to Mike. But everything had happened so fast, I hadn't a chance to glance over and see what had happened to Mike. As I left the hospital, I had seen what remained. All those bodies. It never gets any easier. But when it's someone you care about. I'm not sure what to do with this information. Sleep seems to be the best option right about now. I'm not sure if I can continue this journey with him though. I saw him as a sentient being, with thoughts and feelings of his own.

I forgot he was supposed to be a monster.

I'll sleep now and try and get up in the morning without him noticing. If I can I will leave him with a note. Which hopefully he can read. Perhaps I will forgive him in time. Yes. I think I will. But I think it's best for him to return to 221b and for me to return to the compound. And I will visit him again when I've come to terms with the fact that a creature I have been calling a friend, killed another person I was close to. Ignoring what he's done would feel like I was putting him above Mike. This is doing my head in. I'm going to sleep. If only the rain would let up. It's far too loud. And I can hear the occasional whimper from Lock. I'm far too comfortable here and angry to help.

Sorry.


SHERLOCK

Something is not right. As I lay beneath the blanket, I felt strange. My eyes felt heavy, as if they were unable to stay open. I felt like I was fading. The player slid from my grasp and I clumsily tried to retrieve it before it was swallowed up by the cushions beneath me. I let my arms flop uselessly beside me as my eyes began to close. This has never happened before. Is this normal? No, if it was normal it would have happened before. Correct? There is no use arguing with myself in this condition. And I can't ask John. John...

John?

What is happening to me?

I am frightened, I think to myself. As everything fades to black.


I find myself in a field of green grass. A small circle of trees appear before me, hiding me from view. But from who? Then I hear voices. They are arguing, but cheerfully. A debate. I step out from behind the tree, but they still do not see me. But at least I can now see them. John's short legs are stretched out before him, he is smiling. Lestrade and Mike sit on either side of him. On Lestrades other side is Mycroft and Anderson. And on Mike's are Molly and Donovan. I don't know what they are debating about. So I listen.

"Look, it's a fools hope, mate." Greg chuckles, he is in doubt.

"No. That's where you're wrong. I've seen far too much to not believe in hope. There has to be a cure and I will find it." John, ever hopeful.

"And then what?" Mycroft scoffs.

"You will exhume the world?"

"I don't think that's the word you are searching for, Molly."

John grins. "No, but it works. We'll exhume the world."

"You're dreaming, mate."

"Maybe I am, but there's nothing wrong with dreaming. Right, Lock?" He looks straight at me, they can see me now. I see no anger or hatred in John's eyes. Mycroft looks surprised. The others appear neutral.

"Are you actually dreaming? But you're dead! The dead don't dream!" Greg attempts to swat the annoying Anderson from speaking another word. But he is right.

Am I dreaming?

"He has as much right as anyone else to dream. Don't you, Lock? Do you have a dream?"


"I'm not sure. I have never really thought about it. I must though." Everyone has a dream, don't they? That thing you strive for? To achieve or see or experience. What is mine? What are mine?

"Perhaps he does not have one."

"Leave him alone, Mycroft. Come on, Lock. You must have something you really want."

To get better. And to keep you as a friend. But they aren't dreams. They are impossibilities. But then this was also an impossibility. However, here I am. Here is a relative term. I can't really be in this field. I can't really be dreaming either. Zombies are unable to dream. Have I evolved?

"I want to get better. And I want to remember."

"Is that all?"

"I want to exhume the world." Except it's not the right word. But it works.

"I think that's a great dream, mate."

"Of course it is, it's mine."

"Now you're sounding more yourself." But I sounded nothing like myself. Will I want this dream to come true.

Why is the world shifting?


I wake up, it is morning and I am alone.