[Three rather short chapters today. I'm not sure if it's the fact that I'm tired, or if a subconscious part of my brain decided short chapters were effective.]
A week had passed since the encounter, and John was still obstinate that Sherlock was still dead – and that he was finally losing his mind.
Even so, he continued to feel completely numb with shock. He took to sitting in his room, drinking continuous cups of tea and thinking. He thought about all the memories he and Sherlock had experienced together, and he thought about the way Sherlock would save his smiles for John, and he thought about the fall, and he thought about the hallucination.
Most of all, John thought about the dream he'd had in his drunken state. Why had he dreamt it? Why would Sherlock appear in such a seductive and attractive manner? John wasn't attracted to him... Was he?
It doesn't matter, John thought to himself. Sherlock's dead.
He's alive, another part of John's mind replied vehemently.
This internal conflict continued for some time until there was the sound of someone knocking on John's flat door.
"John! John, the most amazing thing has happened!" shouted the excited cry of Mrs Hudson.
It had been months since John had seen his old land lady, and while he did not feel up to visitors at present, he also felt the obligation to let her in. John opened the door to her only to have her arms fling around his neck.
"He's alive, John! Sherlock Holmes is alive!" She began sobbing uncontrollably into John's shoulder as he slowly processed what she had just said.
Sherlock's alive. John hadn't had a hallucination, or a dream; Sherlock was really alive.