"Sherlock…"
A gentle voice in the dark. It was barely noticeable at first, like those 'what's different in the pictures' puzzles. But slowly, as it was repeated like a gentle breeze, Sherlock could be sure he was hearing it.
"Sherlock… Sherlock…"
Once he was sure he could hear the words, he could notice that his name was only part of it. More words came.
"Sherlock, I'm so sorry. I couldn't do it anymore, Sherlock, I couldn't do it anymore. It's been so long, Sherlock, 4000 years is so long. You were the one, Sherlock. It had to be you, Sherlock. Oh, God, I'm so selfish, what have I done? What have I become, Sherlock?"
Sherlock only listened, soon able to figure out that all that he heard before was the repeated saying of his name, but he guessed this was the stuff in between. Slowly, his vision returned. It was barely any sort of difference at all, as his eyes were closed, but the steady black he saw before slowly went into that sort of flickering red pattern you see behind your eyelids. He wasn't sure if he was technically able to move, but the very idea of opening his eyes felt like running a marathon up a mountain right now. So he just listened on.
"I've been here so long… So, so long. I can't even remember my real name anymore. I can't remember why or when I chose the Doctor. Who was I? Did I have a home? Is anyone waiting for me back there? I wonder if they're still waiting… I wonder, how long would someone wait for me? But wouldn't that depend on who I was? Who was I at all? Was I a good person? And if I was… am I still?" there was a pause, "Then again, how could I ask you that and expect the answer I want? Oh, God Sherlock, I'm so sorry. It never really occurred to me that even if I saved you you may not want to help me but… oh, God, please," his voice began to break, "I am going insane, I don't know what the real world looks like, everything's just scribbles, please, I'm out of my mind! For all I know I'm to the point where I'm psychotic, hallucinating, there is no way to know what's real! Nothing is real, nothing is tangible! I haven't touched anything for 4000 years, oh god, do you know what that feels like?!" There was a long silence. Sherlock couldn't tell if he was crying or not.
"Please… just tell me you're alive…"
Sherlock couldn't just sit like this any longer. He considered what the easiest thing to do would be, trying to figure out what was around him. He could feel something warm on top of his own hand. The Doctor's hand… perfect. He built up his energy, and with an internal wince, he just barely twitched his finger, hoping the Doctor would feel it. Every movement felt like it would break his bones.
The Doctor gasped, quickly pulling up his hand.
"Oh, thank God!" he cried. Sherlock did nothing, just moving his hand seeming to take all the energy out of him. What happened to him?
"Alright, Sherlock, I suppose you'll be wanting an explanation," The Doctor began above him, dread filling his voice. "Well… for starters, the nightmare therapy didn't work. You were hurt… you were dying when you hit the ground. In a way, your conscious mind was poisoning your automatic functions. You thought you were dead, you thought you had fallen, therefore your body didn't argue. Your heart had stopped. Your brain was dying… So I-" he cut himself off, swallowing. Sherlock waited in anticipation, "I took you into the Psychospace. We're in someone else's mind right now, but they can't hear or feel us. I can keep myself hidden pretty well. You'll live, your natural functions like heartbeat and breathing are different from your mind, which is you. Those are doing fine back in your body. But the only downside… Oh God, Sherlock, I'm so sorry."
"What's happening to him?" John asked the nurse sharply, his voice dangerously soft.
"He's alive," the nurse replied, "His heart rate and breathing are normal."
"But?" asked John hearing the tone in his voice.
"But… due to some unknown internal stimuli, Mr. Holmes has stopped showing signs of any sort of consciousness. We're not sure whether this caused the heart attack or it it was the other way around, but we know that his mind is gone for all important purposes. In short, Dr. Watson, he's not going to wake up."
John was silent for a good long time. There was no way to process what he was being told. Finally, he tucked his thumbs in his pockets.
"No, that can't be right," he said softly.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Watson, but-"
"Let me see him," he insisted softly, nodding towards the door.
"He won't be able to hear you," The nurse reminded him.
"Just let me see him." After a moment, the nurse complied, stepping away from the door and letting John step inside. At this point, the room was empty. Aside from Sherlock, lying on the hospital bed. Did that still count as empty?
Slowly, he sat down beside Sherlock. He looked at the ground and began to speak.
Sherlock could hardly keep track of one voice, but two was becoming chaotic. It was like a radio that was stuck switching between two stations. On top of the Doctor talking, there was a different voice, too. Who was it? What was it saying?
He only listened some more.
"Hey, I know I had no right, I just, I had no way of saving you and-"
"Listen to me, Sherlock."
"I mean, it was selfish, yeah… but what else was I supposed to do?"
"I know you can hear me."
"I'm not being rhetorical, please tell me, what am I supposed to do, I am… I'm so far lost…"
"The doctors are telling me you're not going to wake up,"
"I can't even tell if I'm dead or alive anymore…"
"But quite honestly, I think that's a load of bullshit."
"If I am alive, I'm dying. I've been dying for so long."
"You're Sherlock bloody Holmes, you always wake up."
"I need you, please, I can't be alone anymore."
"You always bounce back, it's what you do."
"If not for help, then just for company, please, just someone…"
"Trust me, I know what's likely and what isn't."
"Just someone to compare myself to, so I can remind myself who I am."
"I'm a doctor."
"I'm not a Doctor."
Both of them were silent for a moment, heaving a heavy sigh at exactly the same time. By now, he knew the other voice. John. He still believed in him.
"If you were anyone else, I'd pull the plug…"
"But I can save you, I can be with you. I've been here a long time, I can keep you safe."
"I'm not going to give up on you, not after all this,"
"I've never met someone like you before. You're just so…"
"Stubborn. That's what you are. And clever, which is a combination that can get you anything you want. So you better keep fighting, you smart-ass. I can't wait forever."
"I'll be here forever. I'll never give up on you. There's so much to explore, maybe with someone it'll be a little more…"
"Time is something we're short on. They can't keep you in here forever. So, um, good luck. And... just wake up, will you? I don't want any dramatic entrances."
There was another short break, before both of the voices in unison told him,
"I'll stay here with you. I promise."
Finally, Sherlock pulled his eyes open.
He stared up at the sky, the sun blazing into his eyes. The brilliant blue domed around him as the clouds and birds passed through his vision like passing fish in a pond. He groaned, letting his head fall to the side. Every part of him ached; it was like the very weight of the air on top of him was enough to crush his bones.
"Oh, good, you're awake! Finally!" Sherlock looked around for the source of the voice. He looked to the left. Then, back to the right. The Doctor sat beside him, only now having appeared. He grinned, leaning in to talk to him.
"How you doing, Sher? Anything bruised, anything broken?" he asked cheerily.
Sherlock groaned again, "Try everything," he responded, "What the Hell happened?"
A look of sudden shame crossed the Doctor's face. "I… told you, did you not hear-"
"I heard," Sherlock said coldly. The Doctor shrank back. "I just mean why do I feel like I've been run over by a steamroller?"
"Ah, right, that," The Doctor responded, immediately bouncing back to his cheerful self. "Your body is under the impression that you just fell off a very tall building. You're alright, though. Just try and focus and you can get rid of the pain on your own."
Sherlock looked down, understanding. The more he thought about it, the more he found the pain was very like it was in a dream. It was his mind telling him he was in pain, not real pain itself. If he tried hard enough, he could corner it down into numbers and codes and re-write it, cancel it out. Individually, he did this with every muscle and bone in his body until he felt nothing at all. It was still fading when he carefully sat up.
"So, I'm here forever?" Sherlock asked bluntly. The Doctor swallowed, flinching just a little bit.
"You did hear me then?" he mumbled, a little disappointed.
"You're an idiot," Sherlock hissed. The Doctor winced as though he were being struck, but let him continue. "According to John, I'm never going to wake up! How exactly is that a step up from being dead?! What did you think it would achieve to put me in an eternal Hell?!"
The Doctor turned away, his fists clenching. "Don't you think… I feel bad enough…?" The Doctor whispered.
"I think you're delusional!" Sherlock responded, "Look at yourself, you're in no condition to make decisions! You're nothing but a lonely child!"
"I know, I know, please, I know!" The Doctor insisted, raising his hands in defense. "But I had to choose something, I didn't know what to do!" his body slumped with desperation, "Please, if anything this just proves my point! You're right, I'm completely mad, and I need someone!"
"Then let me ask you your own question: How could you ask me that and expect the answer you want? You just dragged me down into your own personal Hell just so I could suffer with you, what would I do for you anymore?"
The Doctor looked up, his face lining with fear and awe as he leaned back onto his hands. He opened his mouth to answer, but had no real reason. "Please-" he managed out.
"Please isn't an answer." Sherlock snapped.
The Doctor looked at him for a long time in desperation before he looked away and shook his head. There was nothing. With shaky hands he pulled his legs up into his chest, his breath getting heavy and ridden with tears as he just stared at the ground.
"That's what I thought," Sherlock responded harshly. By now, he had entirely gotten rid of his self-generated pain and could easily stand right up, which he quickly did. He passed right by the Doctor, looking around at where he was. It was what appeared to be a playground, with wood-chips beneath him and a small play castle and swing set in the area. Beyond that, there was a long field, which was cut off by trees. There were children on the playground, but they were only half there, with blurred out faces and silent voices.
"Sherlock, please, you can't do this!" The Doctor shouted from behind him, his teeth clenched.
"I am now," Sherlock responded, frighteningly casually.
"I can't do this anymore!" The Doctor insisted, tears beginning to come down his face. He spoke slowly like he was having trouble forming the words in his mind, his capacity just a little slower that usual.
"You've said!" Sherlock responded.
"Sherlock, for god's sake have some empathy!" The Doctor pleaded, "I have been here for so long and there is no way out," he spoke through clenched teeth and shook like a jackhammer, each word slow and enunciated. "I can't even die. I've tried that too, in case you're wondering, but whoever trapped me here was so, so thorough. I'm insane. Look at me, listen to me, I know you can see… you can see…" he cut himself off.
Sherlock glanced at the Doctor over his shoulder, fear welling up in his heart. Was this what he would become?
"I can see what?" he finally asked.
"What I am!" The Doctor said, suddenly shouting and turning around. In a flash, he jumped up onto his feet. Sherlock gasped as the Doctor's hand tightened around his collar, so tight his knuckles went white.
"I meant it when I said I didn't know who I was! I can't know anymore! The mirrors are lies, the cameras are lies, I've seen a hundred pictures of myself and they're all of different people!" Hysterically, he threw Sherlock to the ground. Even though he knew the pain was in his head, it hurt. The Doctor leaned over putting his hands on his knees. "Look at me, Sherlock! Am I a monster!? Am I a freak?! Has this world of dreams finally turned me into the nightmares that kept me up at night?! Well?! Answer me!"
Sherlock waited a good long moment, propping himself up on his elbow and staring at the Doctor. Slowly, he reached into his coat and before reaching into his pocket, he let out a long breath and wished with all his mind. The Doctor could create things in other people's minds, there was no reason that he wouldn't be able to. He wished as hard as he could, before reaching in and withdrawing what he needed.
He looked at it as it emerged from his coat. It was a small pink case, that was about an inch wide and the length of his palm. Carefully he opened it up. On the bottom was a container of blush, which he couldn't explain, but on the top was what he needed. He looked at the perfectly clear mirror, testing its accuracy. Yes, he recognized every one of his features. He turned his eyes to the Doctor and warily reached forward, handing him the mirror.
The Doctor backed away, gingerly taking the mirror from his hand like it was a priceless artifact. For a long time, he just stared at it, sitting in his two carefully cupped hands. After at least a solid minute, he fell softly to his knees, the tensity in his body wilting.
"I know that face…" he whispered, brushing his hand along his cheek.
Silently, Sherlock pulled himself back up to his feet and brushed off his trench coat nonchalantly. He glanced a look at the Doctor. A pitiful sight, really, but if he pitied him at all it didn't show. "Of course you do," he said factually, "It's yours." His face remained emotionless as he reached out a hand to help the Doctor up. The Doctor looked up at his extended hand, swaying slightly on his knees and squinting at it as though he wasn't exactly sure what it was or why it was there. It was as though he had been drugged or just woken up from a very long sleep; disoriented. Eventually, though, he took his hand and stood back up. He was still a little shaky, but seemed fairly fine. He rubbed one arm with his hand, looking away in shame.
"Now, listen here," Sherlock said. His voice was softer now, almost as though he were trying to be comforting, "I don't know how we're going to out, but you're not going to get anywhere by having a mental breakdown. I understand that 4000 years is a long time and you are clearly mentally unstable. But I have been known to solve puzzles, and if anyone can get you out of here, I'm fairly sure it's me."
The Doctor's eyes flicked up to Sherlock's. "You'll help me then?" he asked.
"I'm not promising anything. But we need each other to get out of here, I know that. And I need to get out of here, too."
The Doctor nodded, his smile returning strangely fast. Sherlock ignored it, even when he found it a little unnerving.
"Alright, so where do we start?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, let's sort out the details," The Doctor began, "You can't go back because if you try, your body will be under the impression that you're dying and begin to die again. I can't go back because even when I find my mind, I'm locked out. A field of energy pushed me away."
"Any other details?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, the natives, of course." The Doctor added.
"Yes, I took those into account." The Doctor waited as Sherlock hesitated for a long, long moment, thirty seconds at least, thinking, planning. He could work with that, he thought. Calculations and exceptions ran through his head at a million miles per hour.
"I think I have something," he said finally, "But I can't guarantee anything."
"But it could work?" The Doctor asked hopefully
"If I understand the situation correctly."
The Doctor grinned that grin that made him look a little less than sane, which clearly, he must have been. "Well, Sherlock Holmes," he said, "Feel free to explain."
((Sorry it's taken me so long to post, guys. You know how summer works, your mind gets distracted. Either way, tell me which one I should work on more in a review and keep your eyes open Star Trek fans! I recently got enveloped in that fandom and figured it was time I started writing!))