[John]

Words occasionally found their way into my consciousness from the conversation happening around me, but I mostly ignored them. They might as well have made no sense at all for all the difference it would have made.

"How does your defendant plead?"

"Guilty, your Honour."

The court was busy, apparently I was rather famous now thanks to my misdeeds. Occasionally I smiled at Sherlock from where I sat, though he never showed any outward sign of emotion. However, knowing him as long as I had, I could tell that beneath that blank look he was furious, not necessarily completely at me. Furious that we were in this situation in the first place, furious that I actually wanted a punishment for my actions, furious that a court hearing was required at all considering I had pleaded guilty.

I had attempted to pay attention at the start, but the words that were spoken did not interest me in the slightest, and I was certain that I would have fallen asleep had I continued to listen to them. Instead, I gazed around the room at the many onlookers, at the jury, at the policemen surrounding me. I wished that I could deduce in the same way Sherlock could, as it would have made being in such a crowded room that much more enjoyable. However, when no spurt of insight came forward I was forced to accept defeat and study the view out the windows instead. Not that it was much more interesting. The sky was grey and cloudy, the trees were old and unforgiving, and the buildings that crowded the London skyline were about as beautiful as the rubbish that littered the streets beneath them. However, nothing could have made me feel more at home, more awake, more human. Because no one would dream up such a dreary landscape when there were so many bright colours and shapes they could use instead.

As everyone around me suddenly stood I was forced to cooperate. I still ignored them, up until the jury returned and delivered their verdict. Surprisingly, they found me guilty, considering I had offered no evidence to suggest the contrary. A few of them shot me some dark sideways glances, but I just held my head up high and stared at the judge as he mouthed some unimportant vocabulary about what was going to happen. Then came the important part.

"John Watson, you are hereby sentenced to two years in prison."

I scowled. Mycroft must have become involved, even against my wishes. I had been determined to pay out the full number of years to ensure I would no longer feel as guilty as I had been. However, it looked as though I would still have to deal with a certain amount of self-loathing for the remainder of my days.

I vaguely registered that I was being led away by the police officers, but I didn't really care. I was still angry at Mycroft, but even more so at Sherlock, because who else would have gone to Mycroft in the first place? Sherlock's brother was annoying as hell, but he would not have gone ahead and changed my sentence without my consent. Therefore, Sherlock had gone to plead with him, something he tried to keep to a minimum, meaning he really was upset that I was not going to allow Mycroft to help me forfeit prison time.

I had told him time and time again while we waited for my hearing that he could visit me every day if need be. He replied that he wouldn't need to visit me at all if I returned to Baker Street with him right there and then. I had lost track of the number of times he had tried to reason with me, the number of arguments we had through the metal bars of the holding cell. We would each say that we had been the one to win, but in reality we had both lost.

Some part of me must have registered the journey, but I still felt confused when I came out of my thoughts to find myself already on the regulation white prison bed, with the metal bars separating me from the real world. There had been another reason that I wanted to be here, one I didn't want to talk to Sherlock about.

I still didn't feel awake. He may have believed that I was on the mend, that the moments I sounded and acted like myself were on their way to becoming permanent. However, in my mind those episodes were my attempt at lucid dreaming, and that sooner or later I would either wake up or move on to another dream. The question was, which would it be? Were dreams my reality or did I need to wake up to find myself again? Really it depended on which way you looked at it.

Sitting there made me miss Sherlock, as I didn't know how long I could go for without decent human company. I didn't really want to have to associate with criminals, but I supposed I was one now, so I would have to get over my feelings about it sooner or later.

That night I stared up at the concrete ceiling and wondered whether I had made the right decision. I had been completely ready to end it all after Sherlock finally thrust a mirror in front of me and I had realised what a monster I was. If he hadn't gone and got himself kidnapped I would have been dead already. I still wasn't sure whether my life would be worth living after the next couple of years, but at least I would have Sherlock. He was unlikely to abandon me, and life would be interesting enough with him around. I could live without other human company so long as I had him.

I wondered what he was doing in that precise moment, what he was thinking about. I could confidently conclude that he would be having a similar mental conversation with himself to the one I had just had sometime soon, if he had not done so already. If only I could have texted or rang him to ask how he was doing, and to let him know how I was. At least I would have been able to tell him to get to sleep and to eat something, because he certainly wouldn't do such things without a reminder. I just hoped that someone would take on the responsibility of doing so until I returned.

That night, I dreamed of fighting, of death, of destruction. I dreamed of a pale man with a sharp grin who laughed and laughed until there was nothing left but orange fire and the overpowering scent of blood.

I must apologise as I have had no experience with court dealings and there wasn't a lot online I could use to help me, so sorry for any mistakes. The story should start to really pick up in a couple of chapters, so I'll try and post quickly to keep you from waiting. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed so far, I can't believe I'm at 100 reviews! I'm definitely going to try to do a list thanking each and every one of you by the time this story is over, with special mentions to those who've reviewed multiple times or who have really touched me with the effort you've made. See you soon guys!