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

His Last Vow: Part Six

When I exited the cab, the street was empty. I paid quickly and approached the door of the flat, finding the door had not changed since I last saw It. I don't know why I thought it had, but It was still eerie to me how so much had happened in just 12 hours and yet it had stayed here all the same.

Before I could open the door, my phone vibrated and a small breeze blew across my face. I pulled it out and leaned my back against the door. What I saw made my stomach drop. Not only did I have a missed call from Daniel, but a voicemail. With sudden anxiety, I opened my phone and brought it to my ear, listening to the audio message.

"Aspen,

These are the last words I'll ever say to you, so I will make them count. I wish you could forgive me for how I hurt you at John's wedding, but I also wish you could understand my point of view."

I looked down so passers-by would not see my eyes glaze up. It seemed that even his voice made the world fade away.

"Despite what you may think, I know love, or at least something close to love, when I see it. I thought I saw it in you, and I planned on asking you to dance at the reception-" He took a pause, which made me lose my breath and take in a sharp inhale to avoid tears.

"When I saw how you looked at Sherlock during the speech, I realized I had already lost you. You proved it the other night." Now he sounded truly remorseful, and his voice began to crack. "I don't think we'll ever see each other again, but I just want you to know how sorry I am. I acted like a sod, and should have done so many things instead of hurting you. That's the last thing I wanted to do." Daniel stopped for so long, I thought he was done, but I heard some sniffing, and then the boy takes a deep breath.

"I'll leave you alone now. Goodbye."

I was frozen in place as a small low tone signaled the end of the voicemail. The sounds of the street slowly came back into my ears, but I felt numb, as if my head had been doused in ice. I put my phone in my pocket, and placed my head in my hands, sliding down the door and onto the cold, hard pavement. I felt a couple tears spill over, and yet part of me wishes I had stayed with Daniel last night and talked things over. Maybe I could have still made it to Sherlock in time.

Sherlock... I wished he was here with me, and if not then John. Ever since the wedding I began to miss my uncle more and more, and wished for the days when it was just the three of us.

I wiped my face and sighed, then looked at my cell again. This time, there was a message from Sherlock:

Coming home soon, will need a projector. Preferably with a range of 100 meters.

At least something was back to normal, and that was Sherlock's ridiculousness. What did Daniel mean when he said he had already lost me? Did he mean to Sherlock?

I wiped my nose and eyes and stood up, wondering where in hell I was going to get a projector at this hour. If anything, there was a tech store at the end of the street. I decided to start there.

As I walked by the cafe, I caught a glimpse of a someone drinking tea, who also glanced at me at the last second. I didn't think much of it, but they stood up as I passed them.

"Hey Aspen!" I heard the familiar voice of Wes call. I turned and saw he looked almost different, yet the same. What made me not recognize him as the fact that his hair was now a vivid blonde, with his roots still barely brown.

"Holy sh- Wes?" I chuckled, and touched his hair with my hands, wondering if it was even real. "Sorry, I didn't recognize you!" He shrugged as I sniffed up some not that was left over from my breakdown.

"Yeah, after you left last night, I decided I saw my reflection in the river and realised how god-awful ugly I am, so I decided to bleach my hair. Now I'm just god-awful." Wes explained in a non-nonchalant voice. I looked at him with slight concern, but he raised his hands in assurance. "Don't worry, I wasn't high. I'm still sober."

"Good, because I was just so, uh," I started, not exactly how I could continue a conversation after that, and instead stepped back to my regularly scheduled task. "I've got to go get a projector for Sherlock." I felt myself cringe at how equally unusual that sounded, and shut my eyes.

"Oh, okay!" Wes exclaimed, then left some money on the table he was sitting at. "Not like that sounds any less bizarre than my story, but allow me to help."

"You really don't have to-" I started, and tightened my jacket as a cold breeze billowed.

"It's no trouble, really. Any friend through Sherlock is a friend of mine."

"W-what?" I asked, half bewildered. I chuckled slightly as we began to walk, wondering how he still seemed so enigmatic without the aid of a stimulant.

He continued to babble for the rest of the fifteen-second walk from the cafe to the store, in which we both entered. It had the scent of metal and rotting plastic. Wes headed one way and I the other, but it was only a matter of minutes before he approached me with a paper bag and strained face from the heavy load.

"One projector for the ma'am and the detective!" He declared, and shipped his head back to remove a blonde strand of hair. I shook my head in astonishment and wondered how I always managed to find such strange friends. I stepped back and raised my hands in baffle.

"This is really happening right now? Is it?" I asked myself out loud, then saw Wes's bright eyes.

"Let's just say I've got a dad with heavy pockets who pays me to stay out of his life. Where do you want me to take this?" Wes explained as he pushed the door open and let me walk through to the freezing weather outside. I had hoped the freezing weather would snap me out of the state of confusion I was in. "The more I spend it, the more I can bother him into giving me more. How do you think I ended up in that crack-house?"

"Okay, I'll stop you right there, because I just learned too much about you in too short of a time span. My flat is down there, 221B I've got to make a call." I Interrupted, and took in a sharp breath of the crisp air before pulling out my phone and dialing Sherlock's number. Wes started to make his way back in the direction of the flat when the detective answered.

"What is it? What's the matter?"

"I've got the bloody projector- well, Wes got it, but what is this even for? Sherlock, what's going on?" I asked, exasperated at how the day's events had turned out. I looked ahead to see Wes dodging pedestrians like bullets, and struggling with the load he held.

"I've just left the hospital. The tone of your voice sounds unpleasant, so something bad must have happened-" Sherlock started, and I took in a sharp breath to stop his deduction.

"Cut it, Sherlock. Where do you want the damn projector, and how do you even hook it up?" I repeated, and when Wes turned back to me, I ironically motioned for him to come back my way.

"Just meet me at Leinster Gardens. I need you to go to the tree directly across the street. I should be there in twenty minutes."

Before I could respond, he hung up and I was annoyingly dumbfounded.

"What' did he say?" Wes asked, his voice straining.

"We've got to meet him at Leinster Gardens. In twenty minutes. I don't suppose you know how to climb a tree?" I told my friend.

Wes hesitated, "Is it always like this with you two?"

"Nope, Just Sherlock. Let's go." I ordered, and proceeded down the street. My head throbbed at how many things were happening at once.