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How did he know my name?

For several days John couldn't believe for certain that the man was gone for good. He was extra cautious when he walked out of the door. Kept a keen eye on passers-by, every dark corner, every alley, every slouched figure on the road. Until he realized he was not trying to make sure that he was gone, he was trying to find him.

It was all just a dream.

John told himself firmly as he tried to get back in his real life once again. But since he met the man his ability to differentiate between real and unreal had been quiet marred. Sometimes the life he had been living for so long seemed to be a haze.

"It was just a passing fancy John." Said Harry nonchalantly.

"You were just charmed by him, that's all"

John kept silent. He knew he had to go through this, it was for his own good. He needed to tell someone about it and be told that it was all just a passing phase and nothing serious and that he was being utterly ridiculous. Nobody could tell him these things as blatantly as Harry, his sister and quite enjoy it.

"And you can't do something like that to Marry John. You just cannot. Some promises are not meant to be broken once they've been made." She turned to look at her brother seriously. They were at her place. Chatting over coffee. When that evening John had come knocking on her door she knew it right away that something was the matter. They didn't get along very well. But there was a strong bond that refused to fade away, they had taken care of each other and been there for one another and they would always be. Although she was quite prepared for some discovery she was not quite prepared for what actually she was presented with.

Her brother, straight as an arrow all his life had now come to the realization that he was excessively attracted to a man he had only met twice, with dubious identity and no place to live. The first thought that came to her mind was that he was simply tricking her brother to get a roof. She told John so and to her light astonishment John didn't refute her claim. He seemed very earnest in taking her scolding and her views in his stride. Now this was new and this was serious. Very, very serious. John was trying hard to get himself out of this seemingly emotional mess. So Harry pressed on something she knew would turn her brother's mind around. His morality.

"She loves you John and she has been with you this long. She has a claim over you which you cannot deny."

John listened on intently, his eyes locked on his tea cup in hand.

"She certainly has NOT done anything to deserve something like this. John, there are times when I come across some girl more beautiful or maybe more clever than Clara, a girl who catches my fancy for some reason but I cannot just give in to such trivial attractions and hurt my wife. " Harry said with a bit of strain in her voice.

Trivial.

John rested his elbows on his knees and hid his face in his hands. Harry was right. What exactly was he doing? maybe this was all a well-planned scenario, the chance meeting, the crossing of paths, the walking away, each and everything not just a twist of fate but a well calculated plan. The man was cleaver enough to find out deepest things about his nature within minutes of their acquaintance and maybe he was just exploiting them to his own benefit.

Why shouldn't he? Thought John as he walked out of Harry's house that night. He has every reason to do that.

But how did he come to the conclusion that I would like him? I don't like men!

Maybe he didn't. Maybe I was obvious with it. I showed him what he could do to me.

He remembered the looks he must have given that man when he was piercing him with those steely eyes. John shuddered at the memory, even the memory of those eyes were unnerving. And that voice.

"I could be dangerous."

How could four simple words have such an impact on a man's life? A man who has been heterosexual till now, a man who is in a perfect relationship with a perfect girl, a man who never had any secret sexual fantasies, a man who was a simple, mundane, regular bloke with nothing intriguing or different about him.

Till now.

Questions. Unanswered questions were all that John was left with after the departure of a shadow that was Sherlock.

And some dreams.

John was sitting on a stone bench in a park in the middle of the night. There were no lights except for the full moon which was melting over the dew soaked dark grass beneath his feet. They looked like dark velvet, with the same sheen and softness. There was a wind blowing soft and balmy yet ominous, like it was bringing something with it, something from the dark recesses of the nature surrounding him. The lamp post beside the bench was dark. There was nothing except for the black velvety land that stretched as far as John could see. Yet there was something, something unseen, something alive. Something beating other than John's own heart.

John knew he shouldn't be here. Because it was dark and lonely, because he hadn't had the faintest idea where this was and whether or not he would be able to go back.

Yet his mind was completely at peace. He felt calm, rested and less agitated than in his everyday life. If he were to be killed here by some unfortunate incident then he wouldn't regret it. He could almost feel his blood seeping through a wound and mingling with the wet, cold, silvery grass beneath his feet. Oh! how the moon will shine over his richly coloured life fluid, still warm, still capable, yet wasted.

And suddenly he knew he was there. He had to be, the ominous blowing of the wind, the night not quite still though there being no sound or movement but palpitating with anticipation of something forbidden.

"Why are you here John?" the forbidden voice spoke from behind him.

John knew if he had turned his head he would see the tall dark figure standing right behind him with that all knowing smile on his face. His coat billowing in the wind, pale face paler, almost silvery in the clear moon light, his eyes glistening like a deep loch surrounded by mysteries.

But he was held still by some unseen force rendering him incapable of turning. He didn't want to turn anyway, he feared it like a person is feared to look around in a dark alley over his shoulder, that he might face a ghost.

And his voice, the voice that ran through John's veins like warm blood sounded so cold, so dead. He did fear seeing a ghost. He didn't turn, the voice continued.

"I thought you were afraid John, afraid of the dark, of the unknown, of the unexplored."

"You said I liked unexplored."

"That's what your books told me. Perhaps I was wrong."

"Why do you say so?"

"Because you chose to be in the light of your mundane life which has nothing else to offer you instead of exploring unknown darkness with me."

"That life gave me security, stability, love." John paused a few moments before adding, "That life gave me you."

He could feel the smile behind him.

"Has the thought occurred to you as to why that life gave you me?"

"No." John said thinking about it.

"Maybe it's a sign for a new life."

John felt his breath being stuck in his lungs, this man always did this to him. He strangled him, his breath and thoughts. Yet he set him free. Into unknown darkness, into fear, into anticipation.

"I can't just end this life." John said in a dry voice.

"You can begin a new one."

John felt like is heart had ebbed away, either it had stopped beating or it had begun to beat so fast that he didn't feel it.

"It was nice to see you John."

"Don't go away."

"You don't want to let go of what is inadequate."

"I can't."

"I'll have to go then."

"Please stay."

"I could be dangerous."

John would wake to the emptiness of his rooms, the sunlight, the sweat on his forehead, the perturbing questions, the loneliness he thought he didn't have the reason to feel.