The dark figure sits in front of the monitor, without blinking, like he is trying to memorize the picture on it. The man sits in front of the computer every night after his "death".
Sherlock Holmes watches his friend's sleep.
Night after night the former army doctor sleeps with more and more difficulties. The nightmares are back.
In the room on 221b Baker Street darkness hides the tragedy that fills the place, eating all emotions of the man with fair hair and kind eyes, slowly leading him into the depression.
However, John Watson is fighting. For now.
The detective blinks at last and takes a deep breath. Because of Mycroft's support he has cameras at their flat. Suddenly, the realization that the flat is no more their, but only John's, makes him feeling empty. He closes his eyes and sits thus for some long minutes.
At the night minutes are always long.
A sound from the laptop's speakers brings Sherlock back to the reality. His sharp gaze sparkles in the lights from the screen.
John whispers his name. In Sherlock's mind appears the memory, the moment when he had to lie to John. Right now he is sure that John has a dream, in which he watches his friend's fall.
The doctor unconsciously grabs his blanket and holds it tight. He breathes heavily, swallowing the air with great efforts.
"Sh- Sherlock… Don't…"
Sherlock bites his lower lip, trying to calm himself down.
John is strong, he will deal with this.
A single tear rolls down the doctor's cheek. With silent anger Sherlock hits the table, paying no attention of the pain on his palms. His nails dug into them, leaving red marks. The desperate feeling of his own weakness hits every inch of his nature.
He slowly raises his eyes to look at the screen.
"John" he quietly murmurs to the screen.
John whispers his name again and again, making Sherlock shiver in front of the laptop's monitor. It looks like the nightmare won't loose his dead, cold grip to realize John.
Sherlock's eyes trail down and look at the button on the keyboard. If he pushes it, it will activate the speakers on 221b.
The detective's concentrated face illuminated by the laptop's lights looks even more pale, with blue tint. He knows that this is dangerous.
Without hesitation he pushes that button.
"John." His hoarse voice fills the room. However it doesn't save John from the dream; it is still playing with his mind. Tears still rolling down.
"John, it's just a dream, wake up." Sherlock notices that his voice is shaking slightly.
"I know that it is hard, but you will be fine."
John Watson's body jerks rapidly, like he falls down or sees something terrific.
"Please, John." Sherlock whispers, leaning closer to the computer.
The high quality of the picture gives Sherlock aching feeling in his heart. He hasn't felt that before. The picture of his best friend's suffers. The realization that he can not help.
Suddenly the ex army doctor wakes up and sits on his bed with wide opened eyes. He quickly wipes his tears and looks around.
Sherlock carefully pushes the button again.
John sighs and hides his face in hands.
"I loose you, Sherlock. Once again." The detective hears the familiar voice. "You fell and I just looked. I did nothing to save you."
He rubs his cheek and smiles sadly.
"I was sure for a moment that I heard your voice. When I woke up." He sighs. "Maybe it was in my head."
He falls on the pillow and covers himself with the blanket. For some minutes he just lies there, in silent.
"Sherlock." He finally manages to say in a more or less stable tone. "If you hear me up there." He glances at the window, slides his gaze up in the dark sky without stars. "I really hope that you are alright. Bored maybe, but safe."
Heavy eyelids slowly become even heavier and John Watson falls asleep once again. This time it was without any dreams.
On the other side of the camera Sherlock sits paralyzed.
He slowly touches the image of his friend on the screen.
Tears rolling down his cheeks.