After all we've been through

Nightmare

"I'm a fake." Sherlock says through tears as he looks down at John who stands helplessly on the road.

"Sherlock-" John croaks into the phone, disbelif and worry laced in his vocie.

"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade. I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson. And Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you... that I created Moriarty for my own purposes..."

"Ok, shut up, Sherlock, shut up." John had about enough of this whole mess and he wasn't about to let his best friend jump off a bloody roof because of it. "The first time we met. The first time we met, you knew all about my sister. Right?"

"Nobody could be that clever." Sherlock laughs.

"You could..." John utters, a spark of hope lighting in the back of his head.

Sherlock lets out a small sad chuckle through the tears.

"This phone call, it's, um... It's my note. It's what people do, don't they? Leave a note?" Sherlock questions.

The small spark of hope was quickly extinguished and John went into a panic.

"Leave a note when?" He's voice slightly cracking with fear.

"Good-bye, John." Sherlock declares sternly.

"No-"John tries, but sherlock has already tossed the phone to the side and is looking up like he's going to jump...
John slowly lowers his phone as he watches in horror, half not believing that it was real... He whispers Sherlocks name.
Sherlock raises his arms. Johns heart is thundering in his chest. He's gotta get up there he's got to stop Sherlock. He screams Sherlocks name yet again but he doesn't even flinch. Damn it you sociopath look at me!!!
John tries to move but he can't, why can't he? It feels like the world is crashing down around his ears.
Johns breathing becomes rapid gasps and gulping of air. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU STOP HIM!!! STOP SHERLOCK!!!
He wants to run but his feet suddenly turn into lead. Actual thick black sliver lead that inclose around his feet. He screams at the top of his lungs. He doubles over and claws at the lead. He rips and grinds but it doesn't budge. The lead begins to sprout roots big heavy roots that wrap around his legs, squeezing him more the more he panics. John jolts his head back up as he watches in horror as Sherlock Holmes, his best friend, throws himself of the top of Barts... John lunges his chest forward, the roots quickly wrapping around his abdomen, squeezing and slowly suffocating his every breath. John bends and pushes against the hardening rock. He wiggles, squirms, and yells. The tears sting his eyes. He suddenly hears the crunch of Sherlocks skull beneath the pavement... His eyes go wide as he watches the blood slowly trickle out of Sherlock perfect curly head... John stops... his heart drops. Letting the branches of lead slowly consume him.
You did this... you let him die...
The roots begin to crush against his ribcage, he heaves and chokes on his own breaths. Beginning to claw and pull his scalp as more tears roll.
You son of a bitch how could you?! You did nothing! NOTHING!

He gasps in pain as the lead slowly compress his body. The pain shoots up his spine, making him bellow even louder.

You deserve this.

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John jolts awake, gasping for air as he grabs at his throat. His brow is soak in sweat as well as his bed sheets. He closes his eyes for two seconds and the images of Sherlock lifeless body come flooding back. He shakes his head lightly, kicks his sheets off and rubs down his damp shirt...
Reality hits John as he slowly gains back his composure. He slows down his breath and looks up at the ceiling. He takes a shuddering breath in. Tears pool and overflow from his stormy blue eyes. Silent sobs rack his chest, he runs his fingers though his soft grey hair.
It wasn't just a dream you did this it's real.... You let him die...
Pulling at his hair another sob hits him, making him wheeze and shake.
He can't do this not now he's got work tomorrow, he tells himself and pushing up off the bed. Opens the door to his bedroom with a shaky hand. Unsteadily stumbles out of his room and rushes down the stairs, nearly falling over as he goes. Dashes through the living room and kitchen. He swings the door open into the bathroom, the smell of Sherlock's shampoo suddenly hits him. Making him doubles over onto his knees, he clutches both sides of his head as he trembles violently.

YOU DID THIS, YOU LET HIM DIE WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! YOU CANT EVEN TAKE A DAMN SHOWER! YOU LET YOUR BEST FRIEND DIE YOUR WORTHLESS! WORTHLESS!

He shakes his head as he rips out his own hair. Causing his scalp to burn.

Gain control John your solider do better.
Says a small voice in the back of his head.
SHUT UP YOU DESERVE THIS YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!
He rams his head into the cold bathroom tile and cries loudly. Shouting until his throat feels raw, then keeps shouting.
He's lost it he's finally lost control.
Rocking his head he yells no no no. Like some kind of sick mantra.
John realises he's becoming like he was then, before Sherlock a lonely sad sod who can't even control himself.

"Sherlock why... WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME!!?" He yells, choking on his own tears.

Because you didn't stop him...

He slams his head back onto the floor and screams.
Suddenly he feels a small touch on his back, he swings around with furious rage burning in his eyes. Knocking over Mrs. Hudson as he turns. She yelps as she falls onto her side. Johns eyes go wide in shock, quickly he gets up to help.
Bloody idiot
He reaches down to her with two shaky hands.
"I-I'm sorry Mrs. Hudson, I don't know what's come over me..." He stutters nervously as Mrs. H takes both of his hands. John pulls her up in one swift move. She nods her head then gazes at him with sad and all knowing eyes. Slowly exhaling, he looks down at his toes. Tears drip down his face.
Control
Taking a shuddering breath in, he looks back at her and gives her a tight smile.
"I-I'm sorry if I woke yo-" He shakily tries but is stopped as Mrs.Hudson throws her arms around him, and squeezes gently.
"Oh John..." she gasps, letting her tears fall onto his hot back. John inhales, and wraps his arms around her as well. He lays his forehead onto her shoulder. He feels her begin to rub his back in slow circles as she cries...
just like Mum did...
John holds fast, quiet cries begin to rock his body again.
You don't deserve this.