How They Met Alice (BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 39

(Alice’s ‘Dream’: )

 I appeared in the field where the murder had taken place. I moved to the back of the frozen-in-time-car and bent down to the exhaust pipe. My body moved in slow motion but I arrived where I wanted to move in an instant.

 “So the car is about to backfire...”  I thought. I stood back up and appeared in the field next to the hiker, who was still alive and looking through binoculars.  “...and the hiker, he was watching the sky. Sherlock said he could be watching birds but the hiker was most definitely not.” I continued. “He was watching another kind of flying thing. The car backfired and he turned to look...” Time began again and the hiker turned his head to look back towards the car and at the same moment an object flew in so rapidly that I couldn’t define what it was. Possibilities flew through my head, appearing as a visible levitating list in front of me. It striked him on the back of the head. The man fell backwards. “...which was his big mistake.” I looked towards the road again. “By the time the driver looked up, the hiker was already dead. What he didn’t see is what killed him because it was already being washed downstream.” I moved down to an area by the river to see an exotic-looking boomerang and the list disappeared. “An accomplished sportsman recently returned from foreign travel with... a boomerang.” I concluded, smiling as I realized Sherlock had figured it out before me, and he saw less than I.  I, satisfied, and beginning to feel myself waking up, walked over to a bed that had appeared right next to me. I climbed into it on my left side and closed my eyes.

Sherlock jerked into consciousness and it woke me up as well. We found ourselves alone and in bed in Sherlock’s bedroom, fully clothed and under the covers. He didn’t notice me and I tried to be silent, just wanting to jump out, but knowing I was still too weak. He lifted his head.

 “John?” He called out. He shook his head, trying to clear it. “John!” He shouted louder.

 “Sherlock...” I complained, propping myself up on my elbows and looking at him tiredly. He looked horrified at the fact that I was in his bed. “Oh please. I don’t want to be here.” I explained. He seemed satisfied and looked away, annoyed.  I sighed and lay back down, rubbing my face. Sherlock threw the sheet off and kneeled up on the bed, then promptly lost his balance, fell forward and rolled over the foot of the bed and onto the floor. I burst out laughing despite my exhaustion. John opened the bedroom door and came in as Sherlock sat up.

 “You okay?” John asked, looking at me. I was still laughing, but much quieter.

 “How did I get here?” Sherlock demanded.

 “Well, I don’t suppose you remember much. You weren’t making a lot of sense. Oh, I should warn you: I think Lestrade filmed you on his phone.” John replied.

 “Tell me I was asleep.” I begged, stopping my laughter as soon as he said ‘filmed’.

 “Yes, and you were leaning on Sherlock... and at one point on top of him. Don’t ask.”

 “Where is she?” Sherlock asked, getting to his feet.

 “Where’s who?” John asked, not helping Sherlock at all.

 “The woman. That woman.” Sherlock tried to clarify.

 “On... top of him?” I asked weakly.

 “What woman? Alice?” John asked, ignoring my question.

 “The woman. The woman, woman!” Sherlock cried, stumbling aimlessly about the room.

 “What, Irene Adler? She got away. No-one saw her.” John finally concluded.

 “John! On top of him?” I repeated. Sherlock stumbled over to the open window and looked through it.

 “She wasn’t here, Sherlock.” John reassured.  Turning around, Sherlock fell down again and started to drag himself across the floor. I snickered again, deciding it wasn’t that humiliating

 “What are you...? What...? No, no, no, no.” John said. He hauled Sherlock up and dropped him face-down onto the bed, his face an inch from my leg.

 “Oy! John!” I cried out, moving over and almost falling off.  

 “Back to bed.” He covered him over with the sheet again. “You’ll be fine in the morning. Just sleep.” John commanded, sounding like a mother.

 “Of course I’ll be fine. I am fine. I’m absolutely fine.” Sherlock said blurrily. I sighed, looking down at him tiredly.

 “Yes, you’re great. Now I’ll be next door if you need me.” John replied, still sounding like a mother.

 “Why would I need you?” Sherlock asked fuzzily. I slowly stood up on my side of the bed and was greeted by a wave of nausea. I held my stomach and walked slowly over to John, my legs barely holding me up.

 “No reason at all.” John replied, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and helping me out of the room. He shut the door behind us and helped me to the couch, giving me a large bowl.

 “John? You noticed the lipstick, right?” I asked. He looked up from his book at me curiously.

 “Of course.” He answered. I smiled, relieved.

 “Good.” I sighed. He smiled and continued on his book.

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