December 3: "Seen only in dreams" (from Hades Lord of the Dead)

Holmes POV

I don't dream as others do. I dream only rarely, and when I do, it is always the same.

Mycroft and I did not discuss such things as dreams when we were children, so I first discovered this difference at school. The other boys, it turned out, dreamed of forgetting to study for an exam, or arriving to class in their underthings, or of being home with their parents and siblings. When I told them about my dreams, they frowned or shook their heads. None of them dreamed as I did.

When I grew older, the situation remained much the same. Most people, it seems, dream of banal things, like running late for an appointment or doing mundane tasks. Some or a more macabre disposition, or others, like Watson, who have seen much horror, dream of violence and death. I once overheard Lestrade telling Watson that he sometimes dreams of failing to solve a case, or of crimes being committed. Mrs. Hudson once confided in me that she often dreams of her teeth and hair falling out. I did not know quite what to make of that, but I assured her that Watson would let her know if she was ever in anything less than the prime of health, and the dreams meant nothing.

I never put any stock into the idea that dreams might have meaning. It has always seemed a load of nonsense. But now, standing at the edge of the Reichenbach Falls, and recognizing the deafening torrent pouring into the depths of the chasm below from my dreams, I wasn't so sure. Staring down from the great height into the misty, roiling depths below began to make my head spin.

"Holmes? Are you all right?" asked Watson, laying a hand upon my arm.

I shook off the gnawing horror within me and flashed him a quick smile. "Quite so. Shall we continue down the path?"

We walked along the path as it wound behind the falls, and when we turned to return the way we had come, my brooding thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a Swiss lad running along the path, a letter in hand. When he stopped, panting, and handed Watson the letter, I could tell at a glance it was a ruse. To appease Watson, the boy agreed to stay with me while he returned to the hotel. As I watched the retreating form of my dearest friend, I wondered if was the last that I was ever destined to see of him in this world. I stared down again into the Reichenbach Falls.

The Swiss lad was gone. No matter. It was only a matter of time before the Professor would arrive.

I thought again of my dreams. Had I always known, deep down, that it would all end here? Nonsense. Utter nonsense.

And yet...