Aaaaaaaaaaaaand, here's the next chapter, just like promised!

John decided to move on to get a drink. He entered the pub. The room was filled with laughter from both men and women alike. Everyone was crowded together causing the room to be flooded with warmth. The smell of beer and other various liquids filled the building along with the symphony of clinking glasses. John glanced around wondering if he looked as out-of-place as he felt at the moment.

"Try and make some friends." Mary had begged him, "You need someone to rant to while I'm sleeping." John sighed; she had really meant that he needed to find someone other than Sherlock to talk to. Mary sided with his therapist. They both told him that Sherlock wasn't real; John himself had begun to believe it but now there were more and more moments when he caught glimpses of Sherlock. Moments when he didn't need Sherlock and Sherlock didn't need him they were just instances when Sherlock seemed to 'break' into his vision and disappear a few moments later.

John found himself at the counter and he ordered a drink. A man standing next to him was just wishing farewell to his friend,

"Yeah, I'll see you on Monday, then!" The man turned back to his drink and seemed to get lost in thought. John glanced up at the telly but the commercial break was on at the moment. The man next to him cut into his thoughts,

"No game on tonight. It got canceled because of some freak lightning strikes." John glanced at the man and nodded briefly. He knew that the game had been cancelled…where did he hear that? How did he know again? "My name's Greg, Greg Lestrade." The man said extending his hand,

"I'm John Watson…Dr. John Watson," John replied, grasping Greg's hand in his own. Greg smiled.

"Here, have one on me," he said as he signaled the waiter.

"…Thanks?" John hesitated. The DI chuckled,

"Not used to this sort of thing then?"

"Not really," John admitted, "Mary said I should try it out."

"And who exactly is Mary?" Lestrade prompted. Before long the two men had traded stories and phone numbers. Lestrade told John that he came to the pub every other Saturday. John promised to meet him as often as he could. Then the two men parted ways.

As John stepped outside the building he heard a sound like someone sobbing. Another voice seemed to be trying to sooth or comfort whoever was crying. Obviously, the voice wasn't use to having to comfort someone, it didn't sound like soothing was working anyway. The two sounds seemed to be getting closer…or were they getting further away?

"Hello?" John called, "Is someone there?" The two voices stopped, almost like they were listening. John looked around. The street was brightly light but there was no one around, at least, no one who was crying. John shook his head and turned down the road towards home. As he walked he turned back once more but his gaze met an empty parking lot. From one of the many windows of the pub he just left a woman watched the army doctor leave. She turned and walked deeper into the throng of people and through the back door.

Monday morning…

John sat up in bed and glanced at the clock, 6:32. He smiled to himself; he wasn't going to be late to work this morning! He slid out of bed and began to make breakfast. After that he sat down with his plate of food before him, Mary smiled as she too seated herself. They ate as they talked over what John had done last night. Mary was overjoyed to hear that John had found a fellow male that he readily called his friend. Once they finished eating, John kissed his wife and left the flat,

"Have a good day, Mrs. Hudson!" He called as he passed by her door,

"You too, dear!" She replied. John smiled and stepped outside.

Dr. Watson pushed open the doors to St. Bart's hospital and glanced around the waiting room on the 5th floor: three men, five women, and a young lady sitting in the corner reading a book. John smiled at them all as he walked through the door to the back and set his back pack on the examination table. He saw the different patients and at exactly 12:00 he ate his lunch. After he ate his lunch he strolled down the different hallways. As he re-approached his own examination room he paused. At the end of the hallway he saw Sherlock leaning against the wall, his hands folded under his chin. Sherlock watched as several different doctors and nurses entered and left the room at the end of the hall.

"Sherlock?" John asked. Sherlock didn't pay him any heed. Instead, he lifted his head as a woman, clad all in black, jogged towards the detective with her arms reaching out to him. Sherlock met her in her embrace. Sherlock whispered something in her ear; pushing her blond hair out of the way as he did so. The woman turned. John tried to see her face only to find that it was covered by a black veil. Together they entered the room at the end of the hall. John's curiosity got the better of him,

Who was this woman who could connect to Sherlock? Why did she have her face covered? What was in the room at the end of the hall anyway?

So John decided to find out. Slowly, he moved closer. He almost felt like he was doing a forbidden thing. Looking at the door number of a hospital room wasn't illegal though, was it? John shoved the question from his mind. All the same, he crossed the hall so that he was on the side opposite of the door. There was a mummer of voices coming from the room. A woman gave a slight gasp. John took a deep breath and moved another five steps closer. The room was directly across from him now. Time seemed to stop as he leaned closer. He couldn't believe his eyes.

The door number clearly read: 221B, but that wasn't his cause of alarm. To one side of the door was a clipboard with the patient's name typed in large letters across the top. This is what caused Dr. Watson's heart to skip a beat; the name that was printed clearly read 'Watson, John Hamish'.

There are actually some hints in here about what's really going on...will I tell them to you? Nope. But a very special someone will very soon.

Yours in Christ,

SimmonsButterflys