To Sleep Perchance to Dream

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Sherlock sat hunched over his laptop, reading through county record after county record, muttering. Then he stopped, leaned forward and frowned.

"What is it?

"Wiggins, shut up, I'm concentrating."

"Wiggins, shut up. Wiggins, get me this. Wiggins get me that. Wiggins clean up John's vomit..."

He looked over at Wiggins and narrowed his eyes. "If you don't shut up. I'll shoot you."

Wiggins looked at him, then folded his arms across his chest. "Fine, what did you find?"

"Mary Morstan, was killed during a shoot-out in a grocery store."

"Who's that again?"

"I thought I told you to shut-up."

"You did, but how else am I supposed to know what's going on?"

"Mary Morstan, was a nurse John dated after I was dead, well, fake-dead. They went on three or four dates and then she quit her job and disappeared."

"So, John didn't get off with her?"

"No, according to John, they fucked like rabbits, then she disappeared."

"Hmm, he must have been bad in bed."

"John, is not bad in bed. If she disappeared, it was for another reason." He then leaned his chin against his fingers. "Mary quit because she was pregnant."

"So, Doctor Watson is a daddy?"

Sherlock looked down at his hands. "That is a distinct possibility.

"Hmm, I wonder what happened to the baby?"

"Per the records, she wasn't with Mary on the day of the shooting. It appears she's now in foster care and her name is...Rosie."

Wiggins looked at him with wide eyes. "He's always going on about baby Rosie."

"Shut up. I'm looking through the county birth records now." He took a deep breath.

"Well?"

"She listed the father as John Watson."

"He must have known about her before he went around the bend, then."

"John, is not around the bend. His mind is just overtaxed, right now."

"Oy, because you bloody jumped off a roof in front of him. Well, at least we know he moved on. After all you're not a very reliable friend or lover, are you?"

He ran across the room and grabbed Wiggins by the throat. "Shut up, just shut the fuck up before I squeeze the life out of you." Then he began to hurl whatever he could grab against the wall. The deafening noise of shattering plates, silverware, utensils and books filled the room when each object smashed against the wall. Wiggins cowered on the floor, with his hands, covering his ears.

A knock at the door, stopped the tirade. "What is it?" he screamed.

Doctor Shaw stepped into the room. "What's going on here?"

Sherlock took a deep breath, composing himself. "Everything's fine. We were just conducting an experiment."

"Well, keep it down. John and I had to cut our therapy session short."

"Is he stressed? I told you I didn't want him overtaxed. I must go to him."

"Sherlock, that is against my recommendations. I told you that he needs to remain isolated. He must come to grip with his feelings of loss before he can except that you are not a ghost."

Sherlock looked at her, then pushed past. "I'm going to him. He needs me. We'll need our privacy."

"I'm beginning to wonder who the crazy one is." Wiggins said, while he struggled to get up. Sherlock ignored him, but his parting words replayed themselves in his mind, while he made his way to John's room.

When John noticed, him standing in the doorway, a smile lightened his morose features. "Sherlock."

"John, it's me, the east and you are the sun."

"You always say that you're not romantic, but here you are at my bedside quoting Shakespeare. By the way, I'm feeling better. You'll be happy to know I got a boner in the shower today."

"Really? What am I to deduce from that?" He then shivered when John laughed.

"Ghost or no ghost, it's time for me to top. Though you aren't with me, I want to feel you all around me. I want to hear you scream my name, like I screamed yours when you jumped."

"John, I am here. Here, touch me." Then he unbuttoned his shirt, allowing John to feel the alabaster skin that lay hidden beneath the purple soft fabric.

"Get you clothes off, now, then down on all fours."

"Yes, Doctor." Then they peeled back the layers of clothing that separated them. Sherlock's head snapped back when he felt, his Doctor's tongue, and fingers pulsing intermittingly inside him. Tongue hot, fingers thick and strong, cold lube and finally oh god, cock. John's huge cock fucking me. Fuck, he hasn't given me time to relax. "John, you need to give me time to adjust. I forgot how fucking big you are."

"Okay, god, it's hard to slow up. I forget you like it deep, yet gentle. You are such a contradiction, my sweet detective. In person, you're cold and efficient. In the bedroom, you want to be made love to. Let me help you relax. I know your spot. You are the brain and I am the heart. Well, considered yourself warned. I'm fucking you from my heart— my soul and I'll tunnel all the way to your massive intellect, connecting us together. I'll bring you back from the dead."

"John, god, John, that's it, yes. JOHN..." His legs began to shake, when he felt John's movements increase. A few moments later, his trembling insides received John's come, while his own shot on the crisp sheets beneath them. He let John roll him over on his back, then looked up into his blue eyes. "John," he whispered.

"Sherlock," John whispered back at him.

"I love you, John and I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I knew what I was getting into when I allowed you to worm your way inside my soul. I miss you. I hated you for the longest time, but who am I to judge? How can I know the lifetime of stress and regret that you must have let overwhelm your fragility—the fragility of genius. I can't imagine how you felt that day on the rooftop. I can only guess. But I'll tell you one thing."

"What?"

"You're a pretty good fuck for a ghost."

"But John, I'm not dead."

"Ah, yes I know. "'To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub. For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil.' Now, let's sleep, Sherlock, then let's dream. Rub, your fingers along my face until I fall asleep?"

Sherlock looked over at him. "Of course, and by the way, I'm impressed with your Shakespeare."

"Mmm, that feels good, don't stop."

"Never John, I'll never stop. Come hell or high water, I'll never stop."


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