Not sure about this chapter..I made it listening to Rage and Serenity, from Xmen First Class...

So Yeah...I have this belief in the music of nature...so...I thought it seemed relevant...

"Hey mate, how are you? I'm doing, well considering what's happened." John groaned as he eased himself to the ground, resting his back against the cold black marble. "Getting hit by a car isn't the most pleasant of experiences. Still, I'm still here, still alive. I know I am, because I'm in constant pain. But, being a soldier and a doctor, I'm no stranger to pain. You were lucky, it was probably quick and painless. At least I hope it was. I'd hate for you to have died in agony."

"First book's done, second is off at the publishers. Hope you don't mind, probably wouldn't care really, would you? I'm really pleased though, people are already buying it. Reading about our adventures. Sent copies off to a few people. Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, Harry, Mycroft, even Normund. Thats the Norwegian explorer I told you about. I'm pretty sure the two of you would have gotten along." John chuckled sadly to himself.

"I don't know if there's life after death, Sherlock but I like to think the whole time I was in that coma that you were watching over me. I mean I dreamt about you. Seemed normal for awhile, until you told me to wake up."

"I really like to think that was you, not a memory of you, but you coming to me in my dream and trying to save my life. Again. I didn't want to wake up but you forced me too. I suppose I should say thank you. Except when I woke up my heart just broke again because for a short second I thought you may have been alive by my bedside. But it was just a dream. Just a sodding dream" He wiped away a stray tear.

"Me and Mary have moved in together. Brought a flat, actually not that far from Baker Street which is nice. When I'm better I'll be able to walk over and see Mrs Hudson. It's weird sharing a place with someone thats not you. It's a lot quieter in a lot of ways. Mary's done all the designing. You know, arranging the furniture."

"She.. I love her for it, she's made it feel like you're there with us. You know? Your violin is on the mantlepiece, that photo of us is framed, the one where we're laughing? Some of your books are in the bookcases. We put your scarf on a peg in the hallway. Its just the little things, the small details, she's made it feel like home. I feel at home. It's a different sort of home. But different's not bad, different can be good."

He stood shakily, with aid from his crutches, pulling a small pink, paperback book from his coat and laying it amongst the flowers. "Here, this is your copy. Hope you like it mate. I'll come by soon, with Mary. I'll miss you till then, but then, I always miss you. I expect I always will."

"I fail to see why we are here"

"Because I'm worried about you and this is a good place to hideout for two weeks"

"It's a monastery"

"Exactly. Look, I told them whats been happened and they've agreed to give us sanctuary. Especially after all that deducing. God you are such a show off"

"It's what I do. I still don't see what the point is. It's incredibly boring."

Irene sighed, rubbing her hand across her nose. "Sherlock you haven't had a break since you started all this. Except after getting shot in the leg. You've run yourself ragged, you've been abusing the nicotine patches and I swear , I've caught you trying to buy drugs twice! You need to relax for awhile". Sherlock shook his ginger head.

"Impossible. I can't relax. My mind is like an rocket, I can't simply turn it off."

Irene laughed. "Yes you can, thats why I brought you here, I've heard amazing things about these monks. Look you know meditation right? These guys will help you relax your body and your mind. You need to be in top condition if or when you ever have to face Moriarty again. I am not having you fainting like last week from lack of food and nicotine poisoning. Understand?"

"No"

She patted his leg and pulled on her coat. "I'm going down to the village. Theres a monk coming up to see you this afternoon, try and behave."

"No"

"Later, Sherlock"

"No"

They had arrived here a few nights ago. A remote but beautiful monastery up in the mountains in rural 'd been on the run for three days prior. Sherlock had assumed it was just a convenient place, now it seems Irene had ulterior motives.

"Mr Holmes?"

A young voice, with an extradionary grasp of the english language knocked on his door. Sherlock turned his head to see a teenaged monk, in bright orange robes smile at him. He held another robe over one arm.

"I'm not wearing that."

"You don't have too, I just thought I'd ask. Come with me please?"

"No"

"Please Mr Holmes" His voice was so patient and quiet it was nauseating. But it held certainty, as if he knew Sherlock would eventually give in. He supposed he might as well. Anything to stave off the inevitable boredom.

The young monk led him through the forest, Sherlock found it difficult to keep up with him. "How long till we get.. where we are going?". The boy grinned. "It is not far Mr Holmes, hurry up, such long legs yet so slow!" Sherlock grumbled and quickened his pace.

"Do you have a name?"

"Wei Dingxiang"

"Bit of a mouthful, do you have a nickname?"

"Ang"

"How long have you been with the monastery Ang?"

God he hated small talk. The youthful monk smiled as he led the tall detective through the forest. "Since I was a child. My parent's could not take care of me, so they left me at the monastery. I have been here ever since. I do not mind. I have such a large family here that I have not gone wanting." Sherlock nodded, still it seemed a boring existence to him.

"Here we are."

They had come to the river, a pier was across half of it. The water was so clear Sherlock could see to the bottom. The monk moved to the end and sat cross legged. "Come Mr Holmes, sit with me" Sherlock decided to give the boy the benefit of the doubt and sat next to him, cross legged as well.

"Why are we here?"

"To listen"

"Listen to what?"

"Everything"

"But.. theres nothing here."

"I thought your job was to observe, Mr Holmes. Perhaps it is only people you observe. Open your eyes, then you will open your mind"

Sherlock attempted to stay silent but lasted less than five minutes. "It's not possible, I can't just stop thinking!" The monk gave him another understanding smile. "You like music, no?"

"I like music, yes"

"Think of the world as music. Listen to the river, to the wind. Listen to the birdsong. The rustling of the leaves in the forest. Think of them as your music." Sherlock scoffed. Surely the boy wasn't serious. How was any of that supposed to help him 'calm his mind'. Why did he need to calm his mind anyway?

"Humour me, Mr Holmes. You are my first student. If this way is not the one for you, then we shall find another. There are many paths that lead one to peace of mind."

"And you're so knowledgeable about this? At seventeen?" Sherlock found himself scoffing again.

"It is not about knowledge, Mr Holmes, but experience. Now, close your eyes" Sherlock did as he was told. "Clear your mind. I will play you a short tune on this, to help you" Ang removed a small flute from the folds of his robes and began to play a slow haunting tune.

This was ridiculous. It was never going to work. Sherlock had tried everything under the sun and drugs were the only things that ever helped. Still, he'd humour the kid, might as well, nothing else to do out here. Ok, deep breaths, in and out. That was right wasn't it?Sherlock tried to stop thinking, which was incredibly hard. But as he attempted to something strange happened.

He could hear the water in this distance, splashing, swishing, playing. The wind whispered it's secrets through the trees. There was such a strange but calm silence throughout the whole area. Rain drops began to fall and Sherlock was stunned to hear them play a beat upon the stone and wood that surrounded them. It was like the whole clearing was playing it's own unique symphony. Nature had music. Sherlock had never noticed it before. It was beautiful.

The music had stopped and Sherlock had not even realised. He gasped as he found himself back in reality. This, this had felt better than any drug. He felt rejuvenated, more alive then he had been in awhile.

"How do you feel Mr Holmes?"

"How...how is that possible? How can a forest have music?"

"All nature has music. We had music before we had words, Mr Holmes. Is music not special too you?" Of course it was. Music was everything. Music was in his blood, it was his pulse, his heartbeat. Music was it's own kind of drug. When all else failed, he turned to it. It helped him think. He just had never known that nature had it's own instruments.

"Mr Holmes? Are you happy?"

"What? Why? What does that matter?"

"It's important. Are you happy?"

"Yes...no. Sometimes"

"You do not sound sure."

"I was happy. Sometimes I am..sometimes I'm not"

"You live a dangerous life. Is there someone that makes you happy? Or something?"

"John. John made me happy"

"How?"

"He's just.. was..always there for me. He saw me how others didn't. Why am I telling you this? ."Ang nodded, his eyes catching the figure of his Master waiting calmly at the edge of the clearing.

"I will be right back Mr Holmes"

"Yes..of course"

The boy stood and headed towards the elderly man, bowing in respect. The elder smiled, patting the boy's head, dismissing him. Sherlock wondered if he'd done something wrong, he wondered who this man was.

"Can I sit here, Mr Holmes?"

"What? It's not my pier, go ahead."

"I have been speaking to your friend. She worries about you. She says you have not been taking care of yourself." Sherlock, sighed and stood, beginning to pace back and forth across the pier. Why couldn't The Woman mind her own damn business? "It's none of her business. She's only here because my brother thinks I need a handler. I don't, Im fine on my own!"

"Are you?"

"Of course!"

"Some how I doubt this is true"

"Well it is, don't you listen?"

"I always listen, Mr Holmes. It is my job to listen. You were calm a moment ago, now you are distressed, why?" Sherlock shook his head. "No, it's not important." The monk watched him as calm as the now quiet river. "It is important. You have hard times ahead, you need to be fit in body as well as mind. I am not asking if you feel happy up here" He pointed to his temple. "But in here" He pressed his hand against his chest.

"Of course I do." Sherlock made a face. "Then why does your soul cry out?". Sherlock spun around to stare at the monk. "What do you mean? It's not, don't be ridiculous." "It is as plain as the nose on your face" Sherlock cupped his own nose. "You miss someone, don't you."

"No, I don't miss anyone. I'm fine"

"Tell me about them"

"Nothing to tell."

"Please, I am an old man, I am a good listener. If you feel ashamed, don't be. You are not at ease with yourself, you can not fully relax for long because you are missing something. Mr Holmes do you love?"

"What?. No, course not. Love...is not really my area"

"Let me tell you what I think about love. I feel love, true love, is something that sneaks up on us. We do not see it coming. We do not even realise it is there until suddenly we notice a part of ourselves is missing. Because someone has taken it, without our knowledge, without theirs. There are many kinds of love. Some are romantic, some sexual, some platonic. Some, can not be defined. So, Mr Holmes. Do you love anybody. Has anyone stolen a part of you?"

"...yes" He whispered.

"Who?"

"John. Mrs Hudson. Mycroft. Lestrade. Molly."

"Who are these people to you?"

"Everything"

"What would you do for them?"

"Everything"

"You friend told me you saved their lives. Wise man say When the character of a man is not clear to you, look at his friends. I feel the same is true on how a man treats his friends. You faked your death, to save them"

"Yes but I didn't die, I..I was a coward."

"Would you have died for them? If you had no choice?"

"...Yes"

"Then you are not as cold as you make yourself out to be. You are warm, burning hot. Perhaps you were once frozen, someone has thawed you out. These people, they are your family. They are your anchor. You need peace Mr Holmes, use them. Think of them before you press that needle into your arm, before you abuse your body. If you fail because of your own faults, who pays the price?"

"They don't, they wouldn't know.."

"Would they stay safe?"

"Maybe.. look what does this matter? What does any of this matter?"

"Mr Holmes, when you came to us, you were in danger of...crashing. You were falling, Mr Holmes. You had pushed yourself to the limit and still you found you were wanting. If your quest is as dangerous and vital as you make it out to be, how can you hope to accomplish things if you have not peace in yourself? The enemy is chaos, chaos reigns in hearts of un-peaceful people. A little chaos in our lives is good, some thrive on it, but to let it take over your entire being? If you are at peace in the heat of battle, you can overcome your foe. Do you understand Mr Holmes?"

It was a lot to take in. The man certainly had a way of words. From the lips of anyone else they might seem stupid but from this man, they sounded wise beyond anything he'd heard in a long time. "You're saying if I can relax, remain calm, without the aid of drugs, I can beat Moriarty?" The monk nodded, pleased he was understood.

"What do I have to do?"

"Exactly as we do. It takes a wise man to learn from his mistakes, but an even wiser man to learn from others. Will you learn from us Mr Holmes?"

"If it helps me to beat him, I'll do anything."

"Good, a willing heart and a willing mind. Follow me"