One More Miracle

2 • Unknown

I woke up 2 hours later, my neck cricked from the angle of the chair and my leg throbbing. I've been using my cane again since...since....I take a deep breath, even though this is only a thought, it feels necessary to do this I could feel the lump that appeared in throat whenever I thought about him begin to form, so I sallow too...since Sherlock died. I wake up with a start, in my dream Sherlock and I had been together- as in a couple- which seemed to be lovely at first, then there was the hound, the illusion from the case in Dartmoor, the thing he had described, it was real, and it was dragging him from my arms, tearing him apart. In the dream, I couldn't move, I was trapped, I had no way to save him from the terrible beast.

I drag myself up and check the laptop which had fallen from knee and on to the floor "Shit" -Great now I'm talking to myself out loud- the first sign of madness. There was a huge crack down the left hand side. I turned it on, and everything seemed to be in working order, which was a huge relief. Not that I used the laptop anymore, with the lack of anything to write, I would just open it, even the shows or movies I used to watch online, or the emails I revived from old friends didn't interest me, so they were just left. What would be the point in writing my blog anyway? It would be a load of depressing stuff about how I feel, and no one would want to read that. So I'm right back to the start. The way I was living before, how I felt, right now I'm back to nothing ever happening to me.

It was 3pm and I know exactly where I'm about to go. I had been trying to avoid it all day, but I knew that that place would draw me back. There's some force that pulls me back, day after day. Again, this isn't healthy, but I do it.

I shouldn't even be talking about him like this. Like a long lost lover. We were never like that, nothing ever happened between us. Though at the end, before... a few weeks ago...I realised something.

I had been sat in my chair, and he was laid out on the sofa his eyes closed, apparently plotting a new experiment .Despite this assurance from him, I suspected he had been watching the TV as I was; the few times I had looked over his eyelids were just fluttering shut. Doctor Who had finished and there was nothing else on, so I had turned to him to say something.

Just as I opened my mouth to speak the phone rang, Lestrade wanted us to go to a crime scene and he refused to just send Sherlock pictures. "Come on, John" he called, pulling on his coat and turning up his collar, which made me smirk a little.

I yawned and stretched, "Oh, John, don't worry you can sleep soon. I think I know what it is, I just need to check for a dandelion puffs"

I didn't even ask, I was too tired for one of his long explanations right now, so I shrugged on my jacket and followed him out of the door. He wouldn't usually care about my bodily needs but I didn't question this, he was different with me now.

It took us about ten minutes to get a cab- something extremely unusual to Sherlock and something that had shim pacing up and down the street like a complete madman, and by this time we were both soaking wet due to the heavy rain. When we got in the cab, Sherlock shook his head like a wet dog, droplets of rain flying from in every direction, hitting everything, including my eye.

"Sherlock!"

"What? He asks, looking up from his phone completely innocently.

"What was that for?" I ask, wiping my eyes

"My hair was dripping into my eyes. I need to see" he says, staring back at his screen.

"You got me all wet"

"You were soaked anyway, it didn't make a difference."

"But Sherlock, that doesn't mean-. Never mind" I could see that he was hardly listening, focusing on whatever he had looked up on his phone.