Every night it was the same dream; the same person; the same fall. It was always Sherlock that he could see, every single time. There was the sound of his screams filling his ears as he tried to run forward, but in his dream, there was nobody else on the streets, not like there was before. There was only him and Sherlock. Once he got to Sherlock's lifeless body, he would fall to his knees besides him in his pool of blood and feel his pulse. For some reason, he could feel a heartbeat from his bony wrists.
When he would drop his wrist, he would turn the body over. When the body was turned to his back, he would scramble back up again and stare down at the body in horror; he could feel himself shake as he tried to back away from the body. Sherlock's eyes were completely open and were staring up at John as his hands were moving at his sides. Usually, the sight of Sherlock alive like that would give him some form of hope, but whenever he had this dream, hope was something he never thought of.
It was the way Sherlock looked at him with his eyes. How his eyes were surrounded by splatters of blood. It haunted him for three years: the way Sherlock would stare at him. He felt that his stare would haunt him for more years to come.
Shooting up from his bed, he breathed heavily and stared up at the ceiling while resting his body on his elbows. His heart rate sped up as flashes of images from his dreams left a print in his mind. First all he did was look up above him and try to erase the image from his mind, but he couldn't. It happened every night, without fail. His therapist told him it would pass after a couple of months; that was two years ago. John thought it would be best to not tell anybody.
Once he felt his breathing go back to normal, he collapsed back into his bed and threw the covers away from him onto the floor and spread his arms out over the double bed. For some reason, the dream felt worse when he slept in Sherlock's room, like his room triggered something worse in his dreams.
John looked over at the clock and saw that it was 8 o'clock in the morning; in an hour he would open up the practice. When he felt himself calm down, he lifted his body back up by his elbows and moved up so that his back was resting against the headboard. The room was surprisingly bright, considering it was quite early in the morning, but then he remembered that he left the curtains open. He tried to remember why he did that, but somehow forgot.
The light gave him a better chance to look around Sherlock's room. The sunlight made all the dusts flowing through the air visible, which must have been why he found it difficult to breathe. Besides the bed, the room was still the same way Sherlock left it. Even his sock index was still in order. He swung his legs so his feet would hit the floor and rubbed his face with his hands. Then he got up and walked to the door and left the room in search for a cup of tea.
When he entered the living room, he jumped in shock; making the other figure turn to face him. He had completely forgotten that Kathy was sleeping upstairs in his room; all of a sudden he felt bad for not checking up on her. Inside the room she was standing on a shelf in the far corner trying to reach something on the highest shelf.
"What are you doing!?" he called, running over to pick her up off the shelf and place her back down on the floor.
"I- I got bored sir, and I came downstairs and saw the books and I wanted to read one." she said, looking sheepishly at the floor, "Sorry, I won't do it aga-"
"No- no it's fine, really. But you should have just asked me first. You could have hurt yourself." he said. After he got a chair from the table and dragged it over to the bookshelf to stand on, "Now which book did you want?"
"Um, the big one. The black one with gold stuff on the side." she said, pointing at the book. He saw it and pulled it out of the shelf.
"The Encyclopaedia Britannica? Are you sure you want to read that? Wouldn't it be too difficult for you?"
"Um, yes. I'm sure." John shot her a glance and she pouted, "Ines taught me to read. I can read anything now. The book looked interesting and I liked the name of it."
"The Encyclopaedia Britannica." John said to himself as he got back off the chair and placed the chair back under the table, "I guess it does sound interesting in a sort of way."
"See! I told you!" she said. Then John handed her the book and walked towards the kitchen, "Shouldn't you be in bed now? You need to get better, Ines gave me strict rules."
"But I'm not tired and staying in bed is boring." she said, setting herself in a seat at the table and opening the book up, "Wow, the letters are small."
"I told you it would be difficult." Walking over to the kettle, he picked it up and filled it with water before turning it on, "Have you had anything to eat or drink yet?" She shook her head, "Right, you'll need a glass of water and some food."
First he filled up a glass with water before looking inside the cupboards for food, "We have bread, eggs, cereal, and biscuits? Well, I guess that's not suitable as breakfast. Coco pops?" he asked, looking over at her. This time she raised her head from the book and nodded her head, "Coco pops it is."
Afterwards he set out two bowls on the counter and filled it with the cereal and brought them over to the table along with the water on a tray. Reaching over for the remote, he turned on the television and switched it over to the news. Kathy immediately ignored the book and turned her head to watch the television as John walked back to the kitchen as the kettle had finished boiling.
Over his movements while making his tea, he could hear the news reporter speaking, "The body was discovered today under a bridge on Regent's Canal at 3 o'clock this morning by police officers in the area. The body is of 8 year old Fiona Drew. There are no records of Fiona Drew on either police or hospital records besides the date of her birth, which indicate that Fiona Drew was living on the streets homeless in London when she was killed. We will have more updates during the course of the investigation, but here are further details of what we already know and how you can help us. If you have any information contact the number below or New Scotland Yard that could help with the investigation."
When he finished making the tea, he brought it over with a jug of milk and placed them on the table. He didn't notice it at first, but when he looked over at Kathy, he saw that she was silently crying to herself while still watching the television, "Hey, what's up? What's happened?" he said, sitting down in the opposite chair to tap at her arm. She swirled back around and looked at John, "Is it about what's on the news?"
She wiped her runny nose with the back of her sleeve before dragging the bowl of cereal towards her and grabbing the milk, "I knew her." she said, pouring the milk, "We were friends."
"You knew Fiona Drew?" he asked, looking back at the television which was showing clips from the crime scene, "How?"
"She-" The spoon she held hovered for a moment under her mouth before she took a bite and placed the spoon back down, "She was like me. We both worked with Wiggins and Ines and the others. She was younger than I was, so I had to look after her at times."
"I- I'm so sorry." he said. John thought it was best to turn off the television for her sake, so he grabbed the remote and turned it off, "How old was she, when she joined your group?"
"Six. I was seven at the time." she said. Now most of her attention was towards the book, "We thought she was happy when we took her in, when her mum and dad died and left her. She looked happy, but I guess she wasn't."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Well, a year ago we were trying to run away from this group that was chasing us and we got separated. We all told each other before that we would meet at this place, all of us made it...besides Fiona."
"Wait, you were being chased? Why were they chasing you?"
"I don't know, bu- but they had guns and everything. We were so scared, even Johnny was scared of them. I do- don't know why they were chasing us, but it wasn't the first time. It happened before but they didn't have guns and everyone made it that time."
"How come none of you told the police about this?"
"We couldn't, nobody would listen to us. Wiggi told Myccie what happened, and he tried to find out who they were, but he couldn't." At first he was confused by the word 'Myccie', but then it was obvious that it was a pet name for Mycroft. John took note the nickname and thought about if he should use it to mock him whenever he wanted a laugh.
"Sometimes we would wait at the same spot, with Ines and Johnny, just to see if she would be there." Kathy looked down at her bowl of cereal and sniffled through her nose as John sat looking down at her, feeling helpless looking down and wondering how weak she looked. For a while they both sat in the silence while consuming their breakfast; John was looking out the window and around the room and Kathy continued to read the book. After a while, they both finished their cereal and Kathy asked, "Do you think Ines knows?"
"Maybe, I'm not so sure. I'll talk to her when she visits this afternoon with Wiggins and the rest of them, but for now," he said, who got up from the chair to grab the empty bowls and walked towards the sink, "You need to rest. I have to work for a couple of hours, but I'll be here in the flat if you need me. You shouldn't stay in the living room, it's best if you go back to bed.
"But it feels weird staying in bed; I'm used to running around and jumping and stuff."
"If you want to get better as soon as possible, then you need to go to bed." Once he finished washing the bowls, he let them to dry on the rack before walking back into the living room, "I open up the practice in half an hour. Before I start do you want anything in the room with you? Anymore books? Food? I'll make a jug of water for you and an ice pack to control your temperature."
"Umm," She looked around the room as she held the large book close to her chest, "Those books?" she suggested, pointing over at a row on the bookshelf.
"Right which one of these?"
"No, I- I meant all of them on that shelf." Walking over to the shelf, she grabbed a couple of books from the shelf and piled them above The Encyclopaedia Britannica. Only ten books were piled high as she tried to keep her balance; John helped her with the rest on the shelf. Then they started to walk out of the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom. Inside they dropped the books next to the bed as she climbed back into the bed and pulled the covers over herself, "I think I'm good now. At least I have something to do."
"Okay, I'll just get the jug of water and the ice pack for you. Try and keep yourself warm by not leaving the bed unless you need to." he said, exiting the room, walking across the landing and heading back down the stairs.
Then a thought occurred to him: Kathy was there with Fiona minutes before she was kidnapped. There was a possibility that she was able to tell the police about what happened and who was chasing them that day. Without hesitating, he walked over to the table to retrieve his phone; he decided to keep this as quiet as possible from the press and called Greg instead. After a couple of rings, somebody finally picked up the phone and answered.
"DI Lestrade." he said. In the background it sounded busy; it must have been because of Fiona's murder.
"Hey Greg, it's John."
"Oh John, good to hear from you. But it's just that I'm rather busy at the moment, can you call back later?"
"I would Greg, but it can't wait. Are you working on that case on the news at the moment?"
"What, the one to do with Fiona Drew? Yeah, that's why everything sounds so hectic, we haven't had any calls from anyone yet and I hate to admit this John, but we're kind of desperate. If only Sherlock was here, he would have got this sorted out in under a couple of hours...why do you ask?"
"I have someone here who could help you out; she was with Fiona minutes before she was kidnapped two years ago."
"Two years ago?!" he shouted over the phone; he could hear Greg running around and the sound of keys, "And what do you mean kidnapped?"
"Fiona Drew was kidnapped two years ago, you didn't hear about it because she's homeless so there was no one to report her missing; she doesn't have anyone, but it turns out she does. I know someone who was being chased by the same group of people that kidnapped her."
"Tell me where you are John?" asked Greg. Suddenly there was the sound of a car engine. Greg must be in the car, he thought, "Are you at the flat? Are they there with you?"
"Yeah, they're here at the flat with me. But you'll have to wait here for most of the day for the rest of them. Oh and don't bring anyone else with you okay, they knew Fiona and haven't took this news easily."
"Sure, no problem. I'll see you there." he said. John was just about to put down the phone until he heard Lestrade call his name, "Oh, John!"
"Yeah, what's up?"
"I- just want to say thanks. It really means a lot to me that you're helping out."
"Honestly Greg, it's no problem. Just come here on your own and try and not pressure them into telling you anything, okay?" Greg hummed, "Right, I'll see you later."
John put down the phone and placed it back onto the table and sat down on his chair beside the fireplace. He hated to admit this, but he was rather excited about the whole business. For once he felt like Sherlock, sometimes he would get secretly excited about a case even though it wasn't the time to show that you were having fun, but John couldn't help it.
It was like the excitement was coming back slowly into his life.
Author's Note: I didn't think this update was that bad. I have a rough idea for the next update, which would be posted sometime next week. Thank you for reading, every view/review/favourite/follow means a lot and I appreciate it :)