Saving Dr Watson

Coming Home

The time had just gone eleven. I streched out on to the sofa, with the headbored pushing painfuly into my neck. That was going to be hell in the morning but I didn't care, the pain was a reminder to me that I was still alive even if I felt dead inside. I refused to sleep in my room because I felt to alone, to vonurable and I definately couldn't bring myself to go into his room. Not with all the memorys of him in there. I'm bearly hanging on as it is and that is all I would need to push myself over the edge. So I took the sofa, mainly becasue sometimes it feels like he is here with me, and then I don't feel so alone. 

The door creaked open with a squeak that showed just how much I cleaned these days, which isn't alot. It was probably Mrs Hudson coming to make sure that I hadn't done something stupid like try the cocane that I had found in Sherlock's skull again and so I kept my eyes closed, hoping that today would be the first day since the accident that I wouldn't wake up screaming and knowing that I probably still will. I was tourmented with dreams of that nigh, Sherlock falling, sometimes I was even up there with him and once I was the one who pushed him. Of course there was another type of dream that I had about Sherlock, but those had been coming less and less, as if my mind wanted me to realise just how much I loved him so that it could tourment me more.

After about five seconds I heard the door close, Mrs Hudson must have left already, happy with the sight of me sleeping and only two empty whiskey bottles today. As I started to clear my head to help me sleep I hear a deep, low, baritone voice that definately didn't belong to Mrs Hudson.

" John. " It waan't a question, and it wasn't possible. Slowly, as if everything could dissapear, I rose into a seated position and then stood up. It was him, but it couldn't be. That, it just couldn't! Yet everything was the same, from his untamed hair, which had grown a little, to his impossibly staright figure and cheekbones that drove me crazy. 

Relief. That's what I first felt. I was relieved that he was here and that he was fine. Relieved that he hadn't really fell or that my mind was finally allowing me kind dreams. No that would never happen, he must be real.  But i mourned him. For the last two years I had done nothig but mourn him.

Rage. I was in a rage, the angriest I had ever been. How could he say that he cares about me and put me through that! I looked up to see that he was still in the exact same position, as if to not frighten me away.

" John? " The worry in his voice, which must be face, is what snapped me out of it. There was a loud crunch as my fist connected with the left side of his jaw, causing his head to jerk to the side. He stood unmoving as I punched him again. Again and again, taking out all of my anger and energy before collapsing onto the floor.

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Heyo! Sorry another short one but it is really hard to right when 30STM is blaring from your sterion. Yeah I could have turned it off but they're just so good... 

Anyway, thoughts? Anyone get the AVMP joke? I will make the picture about that for those of you who do! Anyway, duty calls and hopefully the next one will be longer, and there should be alot of dilect! Dilect? Is that spelt right? Oh well!

See you all later I have doctor who to watch!

Byyee!