30 Days. (Part 1 of the 30 Days fanfic series)

Seven: Blue Roses

Sherlock Holmes reluctantly decided to stay for whatever "one more thing" this ridiculous vision wanted to show him. As before, when the last time he had been here, the hospital room was silent. He watched himself sleep, numb to the sick-scented and quiet room, numb to the world. He turned his head from his coma self to watch as John stepped in, followed by a woman with short, blonde hair and big, blue eyes, a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder and a bouquet of flowers held in the other. That must be John's date, the consulting detective deduced. Judging by the way she stood close to him, it looked like they were already beginning to be in a girlfriend-boyfriend relationship; which meant this happened some weeks after all that happened. Sherlock felt a strange feeling inside of him as he watched the two.

Jealousy?

Why was he jealous of John? Why did he wish it was that woman in the coma instead of him?

Sherlock shook the thoughts away, trying to focus. He couldn't let stupid emotions distract him. He watched as John turned to look at his date, an expression of warm gratefulness in his eyes for her presence. He then gave a very slight smile as he looked at the flowers, shaking his head a little and turning away. "Sherlock wouldn't care for the flowers," he told her, seeming to speak more to himself. "He would think it's a 'pointless tradition'." His date smiled, and when John turned to look back at her again, the detective could tell by his eyes that she seemed to light up the dull, grey hospital room and give it color. Sherlock hated that. He didn't know why.

"Sorry, I jut thought I'd buy them anyway. Not really a waste of money; only costed a few pounds."

"He would say even spending a few pounds on him is still a waste of money. He's like that."

"Sounds like a fun man. I can hardly wait to meet him. When, you know, he's not in a coma."

John became silent at this. He turned to look at Sherlock in his coma state. He licked his lips slowly before speaking. "Mary. . . ." he said in a low voice, finally using her name. "He may never wake up." Mary frowned sadly, wrapping an arm around him. "Oh, John, don't think that way. . . You've told me plenty about him, and one of the things you told me is he's stubborn."

Stubborn? Sherlock scoffed to himself.

"If he's so 'stubborn', then I'm pretty certain he'll wake up from this."

Sherlock blinked, surprised at her words. He couldn't help but have a small liking for John's new date, and even wished a tiny bit that he would keep this one. Just a tiny bit. John gave a soft sigh before nodding in agreement with Mary. "You're right." He then paused. "I'm just scared that I might. . . . I might lose him."

"You won't."

The retired army doctor became silent again. The two then walked up to the detective's bed, and Mary placed the bouquet of flowers on the little table next to him. He noticed they were roses. Blue roses. A bright color that filled the room, and yet, a color that reminded Sherlock Holmes of the emotions he had in his heart. Emotions that he hated and wanted to throw away. He wished he could throw away that pointles bouquet of blue roses, too. John and Mary stood there for a while in silence, arms wrapped around each other as they looked at the peaceful-looking detective. Time seemed to pass by fast, and visiting hours were over. The two left, and John did so with more reluctance, Sherlock noticed.

As they walked out the door, he stepped over to look down at the fresh bouquet, seeming to mock at him with its bright and beautiful presence. Gentle, clear beads of dew trailed down the flowers, making their beauty all that more annoying. He stood, quiet, still staring at them.

And then, suddenly, it happened. First, the lights. Then the loud boom outside. And then the floor seemed to shake beneath him.