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Nightmare

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Welcome to my nightmare

I think you're gonna like it

I think you're gonna feel

You belong

Alice Cooper

 

Mycroft was just stepping out of his car in front of 221B Baker Street when he saw Dr Watson close the front door and try to walk away. 
“Dr Watson, a moment please.”, Mycroft said in a demanding tone. 

“Yes? What can I do for you?”

“How is my little brother doing? I mean I am on my way up there right now but, well you know, he’s been not himself of late”

“Yes that was to be expected, he never is around this time of year.”

“Quite so, but seeing that you have been up there…”

“I am not going to tell you anything that you can’t see for yourself. You’re his brother after all. Perhaps he needs you now more than he needs me.”

“Do you really think so?” Mycroft didn’t seem to know what to do with that information. 

“I do, now if you will excuse me, I have to go. I am late as it is.”

“Of course.”, Mycroft nodded and looked as Dr Watson walked away and hailed a taxi. He shook his head to chase the circle of thoughts of old away that made cobwebs inside his head again and made his way inside and up the stairs to Sherlock. 

He knocked and walked in to find his brother sitting in his chair in his thinking pose. 

“Mycroft”, Sherlock simply said. 

“Sherlock, how are you?”

“Do you really want to know the answer to that question or is it misplaced politeness?” Sherlock answered. 

“I am capable of having feelings for my own brother you know.” Mycroft tried sounding indignant. 

“I’m sure.”, Sherlock just said and gestured to the empty chair. 

“I just saw Dr Watson leave”, Mycroft said. 

“Yes” 

“Are you on a case?”

“No”

“Do you need one?” Mycroft sounded worried. 

“No not really”

“Have you been arguing with Dr Watson?”

“Why are you interrogating me, Mycroft?” Sherlock sighed. 

“Sorry, I didn’t intend to”, Mycroft saw the look in Sherlock’s eyes and knew when he had gone too far. 
“Chess?”

“We might as well”

They played a game of chess and when they finished (Sherlock won again) there was a knock on the door and Lestrade came in. 

“Afternoon, sorry am I disturbing you?”

“No we have just finished playing”

“I won with 6-2”

“Yes, I know, I haven’t forgotten that”, Mycroft rolled his eyes. 

“I thought you said you were the smart one?” Lestrade said to Mycroft.  

Sherlock snorted. 

“Anyway, I need you Sherlock. The guys at the station can’t figure it out. You know the murder on Paddington station which I told you about”

“No”

“I really need you Sherlock”

“We’ll come, Greg, just give us a few”

They turned their heads to see the person that had come into the door. 

“Ah Dr Watson, back already?” Mycroft asked. 

“No” Sherlock said again. 

“Yes, we will come” and in a low voice to Lestrade “just give us some time alone, we will come I promise”

“Ta, much appreciated”

“Well brother dear, I must go, next time I will beat you”

“Not a chance, big brother” 

Mycroft smiled and walked out of the door. At the door he looked over his shoulder one more time and nodded, it would be alright, or so he hoped. 

“You can stand there saying we are going until you’re blue in the face, I said no” Sherlock said with a sigh closing his eyes. 

“But Sherlock I promised Greg we’d help out”

“I heard, perhaps you should go”

“I said ‘we’ not me alone”

“You shouldn’t make promises for other people, haven’t I taught you anything?”

“Sherlock, staying busy is good for you”

“Don’t you start”, Sherlock looked up, his eyes darkened. “I have always given into you, couldn’t resist those eyes, his eyes. But I can see now that I perhaps have given in too many times. Don’t whine with me young lady! Not now, not ever! They all can call you ‘Dr Watson’ but you have to prove to be worth the title!”

She looked at him, her eyes filled with tears; “Don’t you think I miss him too? Don’t you think I cry at night too? Don’t you think I would love to have him back with us too? Because I do! He was my dad and I really miss him! But if you are behaving like this it’s like… like you are gone as well! Like both my dads are gone.” Rosie started to cry softly. 

Sherlock looked at her, at her blonde curly hair, like her mum’s, at her blue/greyish eyes, like her dad’s. She was grown up now and a real doctor herself for some time now. She had gone with them on cases early on from when she was in her teens already; she knew the tricks of the trade. She was good at it too. Sherlock felt proud even now looking at her but also sad because he missed John. It was the second year of his passing, when on one of their cases some thug had suddenly shot John. At first it didn’t seem too bad, but then there were complications and he died. He just died! He hadn’t been coping very well, but there was Rosie who never left him, who helped him through the difficult times, who comforted him and he her. They had each other. 

“I’m sorry” he whispered and held out his arms. Rosie crawled on his lap like she was a child and they both cried together, for the loss of a father and a husband. 

“I’m sorry too” Rosie snivelled. “If you’re not ready, you’re not ready”

“Perhaps we should go” Sherlock said a few minutes later “You and me against the rest of the world” 

She smiled through her tears and he whipped them away as if she still was a little girl “Soldiers” he said. 

“Soldiers”, she swallowed and tried not to cry all over again. 

Then they got up to put on their coat and help Lestrade solve another case. 

 

“Soldiers”, Sherlock whispered and tossed and turned in his bed “Soldiers, Rosie”
“Oh god no John!” 

“Sherlock, Sherlock wake up”, John was shaking Sherlock who was clearly having a nightmare. He even had tears on his face. 
“Sherlock!” John almost shouted. 

Sherlock woke up completely disoriented. He opened his eyes and looked at John with surprise “John?”

“You were having a nightmare Sherlock” John tried to comfort him. 

“I was? You’re not dead?” Sherlock carefully touched John to see if he was real. 

“No I’m not dead. You were dreaming I was dead?” John looked shocked. 

Sherlock rubbed his face. He was still confused. 

“Rosie” he said “Rosie was all grown up”

“Well I can tell you she’s still one year old.”

Sherlock looked at John’s chest. He went over it with his hand. “You had a gunshot wound and you died” 

“Oh god” John said. 

He grabbed Sherlock and held him close. “I’m not letting myself get shot, promise. I won’t leave you and Rosie, ever”

He felt the tension in Sherlock’s body slip away the longer he held him close to his own body; his right hand circling over Sherlock’s back and his other hand behind his head in the beautiful bundle of curls.

After he felt that Sherlock had calmed down somewhat, he took Sherlock’s head in his hands and kissed him gently on his luscious lips. 

“Are you okay?” John asked when he finally let go. 

“Yes, I think so, still a bit confused”

Rosie began to stir and mumble at that moment. “Wait here”, John said “I’m right back”

A few minutes later John returned with Rosie in her pyjama holding her elephant. As soon as she saw Sherlock she grinned and stretched out her arms. 

John got back on the bed with Rosie and she crawled to Sherlock and climbed on his chest “She…” she said. 

“She always wants you”, John smiled with no sign of jealousy whatsoever. 
“Does this bring you back to reality?”

“She always does”, Sherlock smiled while Rosie hugged him. “John… I know I don’t say it as much as I probably should, but I hope you know anyway. I mean, I love you”

John smiled; “I know, I love you too” he leaned over for another kiss while Rosie giggled. 

© KH