I.

John paused to get rid of the lump in his throat. ".. I had that dream again."

"The one with him in the shadows of your room?" Ella asked.

"Yes." John adjusted how he was sitting. His hands were trembling; every time he recalled these specific dreams his heart fell to the bottom of his stomach. "He said different things again, too."

She leaned forward, intrigued. "And what did he say this time, John?"

He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. "Ah.. Well." He started to rub his temple. "He was saying something along the lines of.. 'I'm coming home soon.' Something like that. Ridiculous, right? My imagination's been crazy lately. The other day," he chuckeled, "I swear I saw him across the street when I was catching a cab.. grabbing a scone at this outdoor bakery, then he swept away around the corner." He looked down with a crooked smile on his face. Ever since Sherlock's fall, he's blamed any possible sign that Sherlock was still alive on his "imagination."

Ella's eyes shifted. "Have you been having any flashbacks?"

"Um.. Yes. I've- ah.. I've had a couple." He was hesitant. Ella didn't move; her eyes were locked on John's face, her expression didn't change, she didn't write anything down, her lips didn't even flinch. She always did that to force John to say what was on his mind because he hated to be looked at with such intensity. John continued. "Well.. I always tend to remember the first time I met him. He looked so cunning... And I... remember.."

She pulled out a pen and wrote a bit. "Remember?" Her focus was completly on the pad of paper until he spoke.

He nibbled a bit at his nail. "The.. reason why I started coming back here.. The last time I saw him. I have nightmares sometimes of seeing how pale his face was." Ella could hear the tone of John's voice change. It was a bit shakie. "They let me keep his scarf. I can't ever f-" He had the most difficult time holding back his tears. "I can't ever fall asleep without it. It still smells like him, too."

"And what about the violin? How's that?" She asked.

John grinned. "Terrible. Mrs. Hudson always says it's lovely.. But she's just nice like that." He laughed. The thought of his attempts at the violin helped distract him from the tears streaming down his face. "I've been trying to compose a song for him. But, better take baby steps... Sherlock would kill me if he knew I touched his violin." He sighed with a hint of happiness in his voice at the thought.

"It'll come along eventually. Things take practice." Ella sighed. "I suppose our session should be done now. You seem tired." She jotted something down on the small notepad in her lap, and continued to speak without looking up. "And I want you to start up that blog again. I think you've been more stressed than usual. Writing should help get thoughts out."

John noticed how much his hands were shaking. He leaned back and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. "No, no- I've been fine. Absolutely fine."

She looked up. "Please, John. It's for your own good." She smiled, reassuringly to John.

He stood up and slowly walked out, saying behind him, "If I can ever find the time."

II.

NEW MESSAGES:

'No, this cannot happen. You know it shouldn't happen. -MH' 1:12 AM

...

'Answer me now, damn it. This isn't a good idea. -MH' 1:15 AM

...

'Sherlock, you imbecile. Stop fooling around and leave that flat. -MH' 1:19 AM

III.

The entire room was dark, besides the glimpse of moonlight shining through the window onto the wall. There was a click coming from the door, not loud enough for a human to know that it obviously came from the door, but loud enough for someone to acknowledge that it happened somewhere in the flat. The door silently slid open, and a dark figure slipped through it. The doow closed without a sound and the figure sat down in a chair by the window. The light revealed a man; dark hair, narrow eyes, and the sharpest cheek bones you have ever seen. A light buzz came from his pocket. He slipped his fingers into his coat and grabbed his phone.

'Sherlock. This is getting out of hand. -MH'

The edge of his mouth curved up.

'I'm already here, Mycroft. -SH.'

'Get out. Now. Don't put him through this. -MH'

'No, this needs to happen. It's *going* to happen. -SH'

He turned off his phone. Any distractions at the moment could throw him off and everything would tumble apart. He pulled out a flashlight from his other pocket and turned it on. A sharp light slowly danced across the walls and the floors, and the holder noticed every aspect of the room.

"Hm.." he softly said. "He's rearranged since the last time I was here."

The beam crawled up the wall and Sherlock's eyes lit up to see that the smiley face he shot at was still in its place. He noticed there were a couple extra bullet holes, so he assumed John was starting to get as bored as he did. The beam continued to glide around to see scattered papers across the table and books stacked on the floor. The room was in an orderly mess. He liked this. The beam went down to the floor. His violin case was open. Sherlock kneeled down to get a closer look. The violin had been used more from after he left. He knew this because one of his strings had been replaced and there was a brand new bow. He shufled through the papers next to the case. They were compositions; none that he had ever seen before. All were labeled, "To my Dearest Sherlock."

He scoffed. "Damn it, John. Why the hell would you touch my violin," he studied the papers more. "Though.. these comositions aren't.. half bad."

He stood up, swept the room with the light to make sure he put everything back in exact order, made sure there was no indention in the chair he sat in, and turned off his light. It was time to go to John's room.

IV.

The door slowly creeked open, but not loud enough to wake John. Sherlock slid into the room and behind a curtain. John moaned and sort of mumbled a bit. Sherlock noticed he's been doing that a lot lately. He walked forward towards the bed to look over John. He looked peaceful, but not as peaceful as the night before.

Sherlock started to speak in a low voice. "John. It's been a long time since you've seen me. I'm sure it's felt much longer for you, though. I realize I've hurt you.. I ca-" He could hear a tone start to build up in the back of his throat. It was an unfimiliar tone to him. It was a mixture of angst and remorse. ".. I can't bare to do this to you anymore." He walked around the side of the bed and leaned over to whisper in John's ear. "... I'm coming home, John."

John's eyes flashed open. He looked around the entire room, but the tall man had left without a trace.

V.

Sherlock walked the dark streets without a sound following him. He slipped out his phone to turn it back on.

NEW MESSAGES:

'No, this cannot happen. You know it shouldn't happen. -MH' 1:12 AM, 'Answer me now, damn it. This isn't a good idea. -MH' 1:15 AM, 'Sherlock, you imbecile. Stop fooling around and leave that flat. -MH' 1:19 AM

Sherlock grinned. He loved messing with his brother; breaking the rules. It kept him from being bored.

'I told him I'm coming home soon. -SH'

'You aren't really going to though, right? -MH'

'No. It's just an experiment. -SH'

Of course, that wasn't the first time Sherlock had lied to his brother.

VI.

NEW BLOG ENTRY:

Hello Again.

"Hello. Ella has said that I should start this up again, unfortunately. I've been having the strangest dreams lately. About you know who. It's always been in my room, and he's always been in the shadows. Each and every time, he said something different. The first time was along the lines of, 'Nothing was ever your fault,' I believe. The second time was, 'Watch your back, John. Always watch your back.' Now, the most current one, he said, 'I'm coming home.' God, I think I'm going bloody insane. I just miss him. More than anything."

New Comment: "John, you have to let him go. It's for the best. - Molly Hooper"

New Comment: "maybe i could make you some brunch? to get your mind off things. - Mrs Hudson"

New Comment: "This Sherlock was a hell of a bad influence on you. Forget about him. - Harry Watson"

New Comment: "I miss you too, John. - Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock began to cry, to his surprise. Tears of joy. He was going to see his blogger soon. At that thought, his phone vibrated. He looked down at the screen.

'You are in so much trouble. -MH'

...

'Thanks, mum. -SH'