The Broken Home

The Nightmares and a Walk

'Oh, but it is!' This doesn't make sense. He was... gone. Lestraude said he was dead. Found the dead body on the roof himself.
"How...?"
'Oh, come on, John, think!' He laughs maniacally.
What's wrong with him? What would Sherlock do?... Where IS Sherlock? "Hmm... Oh! That was all planned. Your death. A trick to kill Sherlock."
'WRONG! Guess again.' I can almost hear him grinning.
"You can't be dead. Not if you're talking to me."
'Oh, can't I?'
'Are you all right, John?' My eyes fly open. It's still dark out. Another nightmare. I turn my head to look at my lovely wife.
'Yeah.' I notice she looks terrified, eyes welling with tears. I just wanted Sherlock back. This wasn't how it was supposed to turn out. But does it ever really turn out exactly like you want it? It's his fault. He's the one who went and... died. Our daughter, Sherly, runs in. Mary stood up and tried to shoe her back to her bedroom. Sherly's crying. I stand up and walk to them.
"It's all right, Sherly. It's alright, it's alright. I just had another bad dream." I tell her, picking her up to rock her in my arms.
'Go back to bed, dear.' Mary says, grabbing Sherly out of my arms. When Mary returns, she asks, 'Another bad dream? Really? John, please get help. I love you, but I can't bear seeing you like this. You're scaring our daughter.' "I've already tried those places before.. After the war. Nothing helped. Not like him... And the cases... And the rush of adrenaline."
'Can't we at least try? There has to be something. Anything's better than this.' Mary yawned.
'Go back to sleep, I'll be alright.'
'No,' she said, 'you won't.' But she went back to sleep all the same, and so did I. Well, I tried to. I couldn't. So I got up and dressed, and Mary slept soundly through it. She could sleep through pretty much anything.
I left and went for a walk. It was nearly 2 in the morning. Walking. walking. walking. The tapping of my feet on the ground seemed to echo in the dark. Every so often, a streetlight would flicker. Then, one by one, they started to go out, until only one was on, the one I was standing under. A black car rolled up. Slowly, the window rolled down. Mycroft waved for me to get in. I should've known it. This was just his style. But picking me up? In person? That was odd. Still, I got in the car and finally realized how cold it was outside. The car started, slowly riding down the road. It was a while before he made a sound.
"John, what're you doing outside at this time? It's nearly four." How long had I been walking for? Never mind that.
'What are you doing here?'
"I have surveillance all over England." He replied almost carelessly. Like he's said it a thousand times, which he probably had.
"So you've been watching me?" Why me?
"John, this may come to a surprise for you. But, I have feelings. I'm human of course, and I've been worrying about you constantly since.. Well you know..."
'So why am I here? Did you get lonely?' I chuckled while he glared at me.
"Stop the car." He ordered to the driver. When the car stopped, Mycroft turned around to face me. "John, you haven't been acting the same since Sherlock fell. Now I know, you're a soldier. 'Don't show feelings, be strong, etc., etc.' But, you can't go on like this forever. It'll be the death of you." I scoffed.
'You, Mary and everybody else, so worried about me. What about Sherlock? My best friend? Your brother? You say that you've got feelings and you care. If you really cared you'd be looking for him!' I leave the car, slamming the door shut.
I hear him leave the car and call me, and I walk faster. Suddenly, something hits me from behind. I'm out before I can even try to fight.