Everything about you is nothing but a dream.
Sherlock is dying. After a very tragic accident, he was already considered brain-dead. A man whose brain is a spectacular treasure. A man whose heart grew lonely every time the brain rules.
Sherlock may be a man known for his cold facade and all but there is one thing about him. He is a great dreamer. His subconscious creating worlds when he let it. A world with a man he loves. A man named John Watson. A man in his real world who's very different from his subconscious' John.
John is his nemesis. Never defeated, never will be. His subconscious created him another John. A John that cares for him. A John that would be so concerned with him, that if he was real, Sherlock won't be in this situation. A John that would love him back and face great dangers with him. A John that he could call his. Unfortunately, John Watson, a criminal mastermind, is really different from his John. He's a man killing and entertaining Sherlock. He never left Sherlock in boredom. He makes sure every trail will lead to him.
John was Sherlock's former best friend. He was Sherlock's everything, until now. Sherlock dreamt a life with this John. John has a daughter and is widowed after his wife sacrificed her life for Sherlock's. His wife disagreed with him and his methods. One of their argument revolves around John's obsession in keeping Sherlock chasing him. He denies but of course, if after your wife's death and you still kept on keeping another man on his life, would you still call it normal?
Sherlock and his John were talking. Sherlock first thought this was real. But his voice, oh his voice, laced with love and gentleness. Sherlock thought that the real John won't talk to him like this. Real John's voice is laced with anger, mischief, and lust. This is not real John, this is his subconscious' John.
"Sherlock, tell me about your day," John said as he reached for the teapot sitting in front of them, " I thought I'd lose you again, but you're still here, with me."
Sherlock was about to tell John about what he missed but John talked again. This time, his voice was laced with gentleness and love. It is also laced with despair and grief.
"My dearest Sherlock. My only Sherlock. How come after all this time, you will still choose to save me? I am unworthy of it, unworthy of you."
"Oh John. You are worthy of me. You're always worthy of me."
"I want to see you again, Sherlock. I want you to see me again. I want you to meet my daughter. Our daughter if you might want."
This stirred Sherlock's confusion. His John is unattached to anyone but him. His John doesn't have a wife nor a child. This is not his John. This could be someone else. But not the real John. Sherlock stopped talking and listened to John say all his frustrations. 'Maybe it's all in my head.' Sherlock thought. John kept on talking and Sherlock closed his eyes and realized that this was only a voice. He opened his eyes and saw a young girl near a river.
"You want to comeback, don't you?" Said the girl arranging flowers in her lap. "You always know home, Sherlock."
"You always know where it is, when it is safe to comeback, how to come home, and lastly, who to come home to." Said the girl as she rose and left the arranged flowers. "Come home now before he gets too lonely."
"Who are you?" Sherlock asked as he stepped closer.
"I know you know who I am. But for you, my friend, my name's Sherlock," said the girl as she turned her back, "take care of him for me."
Sherlock shouted wait but the girl kept on walking away. He opened his eyes and saw a bright light. It was so bright he thought he was dead.
"Sherlock? Sherlock, can you hear me? Rosie call the doctor, quick!" Said a voice coming from his left.
