The mind is so very moldable…

I bolted awake from my nightmare, stifling the cry on my lips. My whole skin was drenched in sweat, and flashes of my nightmare still presented themselves before my eyes. I ran a clammy hand over my brow.

Impossible…impossible…how…how can it still…?

"Oh god." I buried my face in my arms, doing my best not to give in to the sobs that was rising within me.

How….how?

It had been one week since Holmes and I had faced our greatest enemy so far: The Devil's Foot Root.

And for one week that root had plagued my mind with horrendous nightmares. Each a recurring one of the horror I had faced inside that cottage, and each more terrible than the last. In each, I faced more horrors than the last, more miseries…..

It was in my mind and I was powerless to stop it.

God…no…no…spare me…please…

"John!" Mary's frantic cries cleaved my heart into two, but I could not move, could not help her….

"John, help me! Help me please!"

No, no, stop, I beg you….

"John!"

Please….

"Watson!" Holmes's face, pale and white, as he faced Moriarty alone, at Reichanbach falls, and I could not help….

"Watson!"

Moran's dark laughter rang throughout the room, and I saw Holmes's body fall into a bloodstained stillness, saw Mary shudder and still, succumb to her illness, my name on her lips…..

Please…..

"Powerless." A sneering voice called into my head. The same I heard on that dreadful day. "Powerless, hopeless, boy, you are nothing. A doctor but cannot heal-"

No!

"-a soldier but cannot save…"

No no no, a thousand times no!

"What can you do, boy? Of what use are you?"

Stop, stop, I beg you please………..

Again the maniac laughter…..

Please……

I opened my eyes. Sunlight streamed into my room, glistening and sparkling, driving for a moment, the horror in my mind.

You can never forget. Not whilst you hold them alone.

I turned slowly in my sheets, and checked the time. A quarter past eight. It was morning. Early morning.

I got up slowly, my bed sheets trailing away. I was still fully dressed; I had tumbled into bed last night without caring to change. I knew what awaited me.

I could hear voices from downstairs and gentle tinkering. Mrs. Hudson. Presumably Holmes was awake.

The thought of this made my heart a little lighter. As far as I could see Holmes had not exhibited any symptoms that he was afflicted with the same disease as I. On the contrary, he had been cheerful, even ecstatic, which really wasn't completely out of character, considering him. He was so apt at sudden mood swings.

"Watson! Watson, are you there? Are you coming for breakfast or do you plan to lie in bed all day?"

I snorted a bit, and leaned down to straighten my bed, which still held traces of my night's ordeal. "Coming."

"Well, hurry up!" He was starting to sound a mild bit impatient, and a bit more like himself, "Its not like you to be so lax about your food, old boy! So hurry!"

"Why? Is there a case?" This is how our usual morning routine went. Being separated by only a thin wall made speech very easy.

"No, but there are some very interesting items in the agony column which I want to show you."

"Alright, coming, coming." I finished fixing my bed, and turned to face the door.

"John!"

My head throbbed, and I felt suddenly light headed. I glanced at the mirror, and adjusted my expression until I was satisfied that nothing could be possibly learned from it. Holmes should not find out.

Man's troubles are his own, and it is his own burden to bear, my father used to say. Face your troubles yourself. Be not a coward.

I am not a coward.

Whatever happened in the past was my failing, but I cannot change it. I must, must, make sure that this never repeats again. Never.

"Of what use are you?"

I shook the voice out of my head, and left the room.

――――――――

Holmes was seated at the breakfast table, reading the paper when I enter. He looked up, but the smile quickly faded from his face.

"What happened? Bad night?"

How on earth…?

I shook my head, smiling, as I slid into my chair. "Why on earth do you always have to be so damn perceptive, Holmes? I thought I had hidden every sign. "

"So you had. But," he leaned over and touched my clothes, "your clothing looks far from fresh which leads me to deduce that you slept in them. You are far from shoddy in such matters, Watson, which makes me think that perhaps you were expecting such an incident." His face suddenly paled, and he reached forward and grasped my hand. "Is it…?"

"No no," I said laughing, "it was only a trifling dream, of my war years. Nothing related to that terrible business, I do assure you."

He frowned. "I thought your war nightmares had stopped?"

"Well they had…" I decided to slip in a grain of truth, to make it more believable, "But really Holmes, after last week, something had to happen, as an after reaction…."

His face darkened at this, and I inwardly winced. I had not meant to hurt him at all, but I had no choice. He must not come to know.

He withdrew his hand, and turned from me, his customary wooden expression falling over his face, as was his wont when he felt disturbed. "I am sorry."

"Holmes, it was in no way your fault." I hastened to assure him. "The choice to come with you was entirely my own."

"It was I who suggested the experiment in the first place."

"For a perfectly justifiable cause! You are not to blame for what happens to the companions who choose to follow! Besides, "I said, grinning a little, "it did give me a chance to do the rescuing."

There was silence for a while, and then Holmes sighed, shaking his head. "You are such a fool, Watson."

"Why?"

"For following a man who puts your life in danger at every turn." He turned to me slightly, and I was glad to see the smile in his eyes.

"Well, than I suppose I am a fool." I picked up the knife and pulled my plate toward me. "But I rather be no other fool in the world. "

―――――――――――

That night, the nightmare returned, with a greater intensity. I tossed and turned, and finally at half past one I awoke. My head was spinning, and I took deep, steadying breaths.

Brandy….downstairs…..I can't stand it any more….I'll be damned if I sleep anymore tonight….

When I got to the staircase, however, the door to our sitting room opened, and Holmes stood framed there, holding a candle. "Watson?"

"Nightmare." I said. There was no point in lying; both my tone and my face gave me away. "Was going to get some brandy."

He nodded, and held the candle higher, lighting my way down. "I'll have one too. Come."

I slowly treaded down, all too aware of my dazed senses. Perhaps Holmes sensed this too, for he gripped my arm and helped me into our sitting room.

There was a cheerful fire burning, but it did nothing to banish the dark thought in my mind. In fact, it brought forth more terrible deeds….

Fire. Flames. Everywhere. Burning. My home. My family. Everyone.

"John!"

"Johnnie!"

"John! John!"

I passed a hand wearily over my eyes. My nerve was stretched to breaking point. Any more and I'll…

Holmes had let go of me to go to the mantelpiece. I watched him now, in some detached abstract way, take the decanter and start to pour. The world swam, and seemed to slow down, until it was going ridiculously slow….

It was almost funny….

The earth gave way under my feet. I fell.

Who would catch you, boy? In who have you inspired such devotion? Who?

Who indeed. And so, I fell. Alone.

――――――――――

When I opened my eyes, I was till in our sitting room. The room was in sharper focus than before. I shifted, and became aware that I was leaning against something soft. I turned-

"Easy." Sherlock Holmes stilled my alarmed movement, and moved so that I was resting more comfortably against his shoulder. "Easy, Watson. It's alright now."

I calmed slightly, at the soothing tones of his voice. But the circumstances brought me crashing back to reality.

Holmes's hand once again resisted my attempts to sit up. "I said, Easy, Watson. Slow down. Everything is fine now."

"How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long since-"

"-since you passed out? I'd say half an hour. Give or take."

"Half-half an hour? Only?"

Holmes's sharp gaze fixed itself onto me. "I take it that you have been out longer before?"

"No I didn't mean that-"

"You meant precisely that." Holmes shifted himself to a more comfortable position to, what I realized now, was the wall. "You are not the only one capable of keeping secrets, Watson. I believe myself to be quite adept in that field actually."

"What do you mean?"

"Watson, Watson. You know very well what I mean. This morning."

I felt myself stiffening. "What about it?"

"You told me that you had, if I recall correctly, a 'trifling' dream about your war years, which you waved off as a slight after effect of the Devil's root, to calm my fears." He narrowed his eyes at me. "Am I right?"

"Holmes-"

"Then I am. But, dear friend, I had deduced more than I told you. I deduced that this was not, in fact, a trifling dream which you had only today, but a series of nightmares which you have been having for the past week, and for reasons best known to yourself, have decided not to tell me." He looked down at me. "Am I right?"

I was silent for some time. At last I spoke. "It is my burden to bear Holmes. I saw no reason to include you in my troubles."

I felt, rather that heard him exhale an impatient sigh. "Watson, I'm disappointed at you."

"You often are."

"I did not mean like that. I meant that, what you just said now."

"It was the truth. It is what I believe in."

I heard him give a quite chuckle. "One law for the self, another for the friend, eh?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"According to you, every man's trouble is his own burden and he must support it himself, without the aid of others."

"Yes."

"Then why are you so anxious that I share my troubles with you, unburden my soul to you?"

"That-That is in the call of friendship, Holmes!"

"Than surely you must allow me to extend the same courtesy to you?"

"But-"

"Watson." This time Holmes's' frown was evident. "This is the height of foolishness. I will be the first to admit that you are the strongest man I know but even you alone cannot fight against all in the world."

I was too astounded to speak. I had never heard my friend reveal so much of his heart to me. "I-I am the strongest man you know?" I managed at last.

"Yes." The tips of his ears had started to turn pink, though with the cold, or the exertion of speaking about such alien things, I did not know. But when he started muttering things about how deuced awkward it was, I understood it to be the latter.

"Its fine, Holmes." He looked up startled to see me smiling at him. "I'm grateful for what you say, but really, it isn't all that bad-"

"Watson." he interrupted gently. "It is that bad and probably worse. I don't know why you must always feel that you are responsible for everything, but believe me, my dear fellow, you are not. Nor are you alone."

"Holmes-"I stammered, but he interrupted me again.

"Watson, do you think I've had no such dreams myself?" I looked up in shock and he nodded slowly. "Oh yes, I did. For the first few days, there have been terrible nights as well. But there was always a dawn and you were there. I could conquer them, Watson, just as you had taught me to conquer my cocaine passion. Do you remember what you said then, Watson?" He leaned forward and gripped my hand fiercely. "You said, You are not alone." He smiled at me. "And nor are you, Watson. Nor are you."

I could not think of anything to say, but my words left my lips anyway. "Thank you."

He nodded, smiling a little. "Just a small part of the debt I owe you, dear fellow."

―――――――――――

Since that day, there have been many hours and days and months and years of Holmes's and my enduring friendship but those dreams have not repeated. Not once.

And we both remain, a world closer, because of the belief that each of us is there to catch the other if we fall.

And we both know that, despite the horrors the world is to watch, we were, are, will never be, alone.

A/N: Sorry for the lateness! I had to go to Delhi for the Annual Meet of the National Unofficial Conference Of Sherlock Holmes Fans and only got back yesterday, with this story spinning round my head. I woke up at 12 midnight and was like "Must write story where Watson had bad nightmares." And "Must improve Victorian English."

This is the net result! I hope you like it, I'm actually quite proud of it, I think I've improved quite a lot since I first joined! But that of course is for you to decide.

If you liked/loved/hated/detested it, please review!