Once Upon Another Time (Third Book In The "Life Is But A Dream" Saga)

His Last Vow: Part Nine

I woke up super, super upset and distressed. No one else was awake, but I lied on my side on the couch, facing the soft cushions. Was that a dream? Did I dream what had happened with Sherlock? It made me even more distressed the more I thought of the possibility. It had felt so real. So, so real and it appalled me that I could feel so emotional in such a dream. I felt tears start to well up as I felt the ghost of how his hand felt in mine, and what that meant for what I thought of him. I couldn't stand to stay here any longer.

I pulled out my phone from between the cushions and began to text Wes. Just to confirm our plan would go accordingly.

I tossed my phone on the tan carpet and rubbed my hands on my face, trying to push away any sort of poisonous thoughts about Sherlock. I couldn't shake if it was a dream or not. It felt too real to be a dream, but also what happened was too fantastical to be real. I scoffed softly before burying my face in my pillow. My heart ached from the trial of my thoughts telling me what was and wasn't real. I clutched my blanket and held it close to my heart, exhaling too many tears.

I heard someone's feet approach the couch, and made sure that my face was down, and my eyes closed. Pretending to be asleep was second nature to me, and fooled whoever it was. At dinner last night Mrs. Holmes had told us that they planned on opening presents tonight, so hopefully I could make it back in time. Now I just had to make through the next few hours without too much conversation.

I heard the Christmas music begin to play, with the volume at a courteous volume, so as to not wake me. I softly rolled to face the cushions and away from the open room and opened my eyes, releasing the salty waterworks. I had to stop though. I began to warm up from the blood rushing to my head and felt my brain banging on my skull. Mercilessly wiping my eyes and making the blanket soak up any remaining tears, I took a deep breath and sighed. I felt relaxed, and wished I could wake up all over again.

I felt two hands seize my waist and John shout uncomfortably loud in my ear:

"Merry Christmas Aspen!" He tackled me in a hug as I cried out a dull and dazed yell from the surprise. Whatever tears hadn't been soaked were scared off as I sat up and hugged my uncle. I couldn't help but smile at the tender moment.

"Good morning John. Merry Christmas." I sat back against the soft couch cushions and saw Mary sit on the love seat opposite us. "Mary, happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, Aspen. Did you sleep well?" She asked, and John looked at me, either to hear my answer or out of desire of not wanting to see Mary. I could tell he was trying to make the best out of the situation.

I nodded almost right away, pushing what I wanted to think about to the back of my mind.

Sherlock kissed you, Aspen. Don't try to deny it.

The statement burned a hole in my mind, but I didn't let that stop my enjoyment of the festivities with my family.

"Ah, Sherlock, good morning." I saw John turn around and he stood up before walking around and hugging his friend. I felt a poignant sear across my chest and kept my eyes on Mary, trying to keep my smile from fading.

Suddenly, my phone began vibrating endlessly, signalling an incoming call. I pulled it from under my leg and saw it was Wes. I looked at John and only John, showing him my phone. He nodded and I walked into a vacant corridor and to the loo, closing the door and answering the phone.