The kiss of nights comfortMore Like This
Another man down.
Another friend down.
"Noo. . ." John murmurs in his sleep, his head moving to the other side of his pillow.
Another gunshot, followed by a loud boom as dirt flies into the air and comrades fall.
"Noo. . . noo. . ." He says more urgently, like a quiet, desperate cry.
The image changes.
It's Sherlock, on the roof of the hospital again.
The scene replayed in his head.
Sherlock sending his 'note' and jumping.
"SHERLOCK!" John bolts upwards, wide awake and breathing hard. He looked around, making sure that he was still there in his bedroom of 221b Baker Street. His and Sherlock's flat.
"That was two years ago John, calm down, Sherlock is fine." He said to himself, throwing his blanket back over his shoulder and laying his head on the pillow. He sighed, his breath back to normal. A light passed by the window, caused by a passing car. The faint sound of a siren wailing in the night. He turned away from the window and started drifting back to sleep. He was almost a