One More Miracle

The Case

Chapter 6: John's POV

"Sherlock!" I screamed. I sat upright in bed, my hand reaching out in front of me. I had had the dream again. The dream where I almost get Sherlock back and wake up before I can reach him. Swearing like a fiend, I collapsed back onto the sheets, pulling the comforter up over my head. Maybe hiding under blankets can keep the dream away, I thought. However, I knew deep down that I didn't want the dream to go away. This was the only time I saw Sherlock. And seeing him again was worth losing him in the end. 

My phone rang from the nightstand, and I groaned. "I really have to start putting this thing on silent before I go to sleep," I said to nobody in particular. I looked at the screen. Lestrade. 

"Lestrade?" I said upon picking up, confused. 

"John, thank God you picked up. We need your help," Lestrade's voice came from the other end of the line. With that, he hung up. 

"Okay, where--hey!" I said once I realized how quickly he had ended the call. I angrily dialed his number. 

"Scotland Yard," Lestrade answered immediately. "Come quickly." He hung up again. 

Sighing, I climbed out of bed and stretched. My phone trilled. I had one new message. 

Quickly. It was from Lestrade. 

I know! I responded. With a renewed sense of urgency mixed with annoyance, I rushed through my morning routine and was out the door in ten minutes. It was a really good thing it was a Saturday. If I had missed any more work, my boss would have killed me. 

Another perk to it being Saturday was that nobody was out. I was able to get to Scotland Yard faster than I thought possible. I ran to Lestrade's office, and by the time I arrived, I was out of breath. 

"What--is--it?" I asked, panting.

Lestrade smiled. "Well, that was quick." I glared at him, and the smile melted off his face. "Right. The problem. We have a case that you might be interested in." 

Able to breathe normally again, I said, "I'm not Sherlock, Greg. I'll never be as good as him." 

"No, and I don't see how anybody could be. I thought you'd be interested in this case for other reasons."  

"What reasons?" I inquired. 

"Come on, I'll show you," said Lestrade, and he strode out of his office, leaving me to hurry behind in his wake. 

A cab ride later, we were in Brixton. Lauriston Gardens, to be exact. The first case I ever went on with Sherlock. The buildings before me held memories that were hard to suppress. That little voice in my head chided me, and for a moment it sounded just like Sherlock's. You can't lose it, John. Not now. Now you have to focus. 

"Right, I have to focus," I said, but I didn't realize I had spoken aloud until Greg shot me a confused look. I opened my mouth to explain, but I decided against it. Instead, I just shook my head and waved my hand to indicate that I was fine and stared down at my shoes as we walked. Embarrassment reddened my face, but thankfully Lestrade had the good grace not to stare. 

Lestrade began, "We found her this morning. Apparently she graduated from the same high school you did, and she was pictured in your senior yearbook with you. I don't know if that means anything to you or...." He trailed off at the look on my face.

 No. Not her, I thought repeatedly. Not her. I guess my concern showed, as Greg didn't meet my eyes until we were standing over the body. 

"Mary," I whispered. "I'm so sorry." She was face-down on the floor, in the same place the pink lady from "A Study in Pink" had been. I recognized the blonde hair; it was just like hers. However, my old high-school girlfriend's cadaver wasn't the most disturbing thing in the room. Written in what looked like blood on the floor next to her, right next to the letters "RACHE" that were scratched on the floor by its previous occupant, were three words. 

"GET JOHN WATSON." And underneath that were two letters. 

"SM." 

"Who's SM?" I asked. Lestrade just shrugged. 

"Could be any number of people," he said. But I didn't really hear him. I looked down at Mary again and saw something that puzzled me. There was a strand of red in her otherwise golden hair. I bent down to look, and I saw that what had appeared to be her natural hair color was actually dye. 

"Oh thank God," I said upon rolling her over. Though this woman definitely resembled my ex-girlfriend, I could tell that it wasn't her. I could see a bullet wound in the woman's chest where she had been shot, and there was a piece of paper peeking out from inside her jacket pocket. 

"Fooled you, didn't I?" I read aloud from the note. "I didn't actually kill your ex-girlfriend this time, but next time you might not be so lucky. Remember my warning: The fight continues, Doctor Watson. -SM." 

"What fight? What continues? John, are you sure you don't know this SM guy?" Lestrade asked, clearly puzzled. 

"No, but he definitely knows me," I said in response. Suddenly, a memory from a few days ago sprung up in my mind as clearly as if it were happening right in front of me. "And I think he's after me." 

~~~~~~~~

I can see why John likes it here, I thought as I stood outside the door to his flat. The place suited him, it was well-lit and inviting, but it wasn't too extravagant. I tried to picture myself living here, but I really couldn't. It wasn't 221B Baker Street, so it wasn't home. But subjecting John's new home to deductions wasn't why I was here. I was here to find out how best to deliver a message to Doctor Watson. A message as to how to find me again. 

I circled the building once, taking in its entirety. In a matter of minutes, I had an idea. And it was foolproof. 

"John Watson, I'm coming back soon. Just you wait." With that, I turned around and left, leaving my promise to John hanging in the air, hoping that he would find it and know that I'd see him soon, and this time, he'd see me as well.