Him, Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 24~ Dreams

-----Willow POV-------

"Willow. Willow." A voice fades into my mind. I open my eyes to see John looking down at me.

"But you're dead." I say half awake. John looks concerned. I hug him, glad he hasn't been shot in the chest. Or has he? I pull away and look at his chest. There is no blood, nothing. "Where's Sherlock?" I ask.

"He's in his room. why?" John says confused at what the situation is. I ignore him and run to Sherlock's room. I burst through the door without knocking. I run over to Sherlock without thinking and pull him into a tight hug. I breathe in the smell of the nape of his neck. Tobacco, and sweat. It's not a bad scent, it's actually quite refreshing. Sherlock doesn't react. He just is sitting there still. He soon pulls his arms into tight embrace, confused, but does it anyway.

Tears threaten to fall from the protection of my eyelids. That was almost the most scariest thing in my life. It just amazes me. That it was all a dream.

"Thank god-" I whisper into Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock is confused, I can't see his face but, I can tell.

"Willow?" I hear John walking toward the room, "Hey Willo- oh er ummm." He says standing in the doorway. I pull away from Sherlock and turn to him smirking. His eyes are wide with innocence and his face is tinted red. I almost burst out laughing. John shifts uncomfortably. "Can someone tell me what's going on?" He asks flustered. Sherlock shrugs and I sigh.

"Let's just say I had a nightmare. That scared the living heck out of me." I laugh a little. Uncomfortably of course. Sherlock is confused. John nods his head a little grasping the thought, then he stops and confusion washes over him.

"What?" John asks frowning. I groan in defeat.

"Moriarty killed you both, like he killed my family." I say calmly. Then a thought terrifies me.

What if that happened and this is a dream? What if they really are dead?

That thought sends me to the files in my head. Lucid dreaming. I know what to do now. I do a reality check, well, multiple I might say. My hands, the mirror, the clocks, holding your naaose. Everything. Thankfully I am not dreaming. I am in reality. I sigh in relief. Not knowing what to do with myself, I walk to the living room and turn on the TV.

Sherlock and John sit on either side of me. John grabs the remote and turns on some horror show.

By the end of the episode me, Sherlock and John are leaning at the edge of the couch.

"Those aren't your grandparents..."

The screen goes black, though nothing continues. I feel weight lift from my right. John gets up and tries turning on the lights.

"It looks like the power is out," John sighs. I look up at him.

"What now?" I ask bored. John shrugs and sits back down. It's dark outside now. We've been watching horror films for about 8 hours now. I jump from the couch and run to the sink of the kitchen. I go under the sink and pull out two large cases of alcohol. I run into the living room with a wide grin and a brandy and vodka bottle in hand.

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A/N yes, yes, i know it's short and let me say. This chapter is more about telling what really happened in the last chapter. I can't wait to continue, i plan to continue for a long while. Give me your thoughts please.