Just Close Your Eyes

I remember tears streaming down your face,
when I said I'll never let you go.
When all those shadows almost
killed your light.

"You're worried they're right."

No, John thought. No, he was not worried that everyone else was right, because everyone else was not right. John had lived with Sherlock for a year and a half and he knew that Sherlock was not a fake. He knew it.

So, John wasn't afraid that everyone was right.

John was afraid for Sherlock.

He had warned the detective, not long ago, that the press would turn on him. The press had turned on him. It had simply taken one reporter to turn the consulting detective world upside-down, to make it topsy-turvy and destroy everything that Sherlock had worked for.

The press was one thing.

John could handle the press. Sherlock could ignore the press.

They could both ignore what people thought.

However, they could not ignore the presence that was Jim Moriarty, and John was terrified for the consulting detective. Moriarty was different. Moriarty was dangerous.

And John knew that something was going to happen.

Neither of these men would give up.

I remember you said don't leave me here alone,
but all that's dead and gone and past tonight.

"So, what now?"

"Doing what Moriarty wants: becoming a fugitive. Run."

Despite all of this, John was not leaving Sherlock alone. He would not let Sherlock deal with this by himself. He would stay by the detective's side and he wouldn't let Sherlock brush him off.

He promised himself that he wouldn't leave Sherlock alone. Not for an instant. He was his blogger, after all.

He was his best friend.

He promised.

Just close your eyes,
the sun is going down.
You'll be alright,
no one can hurt you now.
Come morning light,
you and I'll be
safe and sound.

"Alone is what I have; alone protects me."

"No, friends protect people."

Don't you dare look out your window,
darling, everything's on fire.
The war outside our door
keeps raging on.
Hold onto this lullaby,
even when the music's gone.

"Goodbye, John."

John had promised.

John had promised to never let the detective go it alone. John had promised to be by his side.

He had promised.

He had failed.

Just close your eyes,
the sun is going down.
You'll be alright,
no one can hurt you now.
Come morning light,
you and I'll be
safe and sound.

"He's my friend..."

The flat was strangely unfamiliar that night.

His dreams were even more unfamiliar.

Nightmares.

He hadn't had nightmares since he had met Sherlock.

Even though all of reality was a living nightmare, John found it easier to stay awake than to sleep. When he slept, he couldn't control the fact that his mind kept dredging up the memories of Sherlock pitching forward off of the rooftop of St. Bart's. While he was awake, however, John could close his eyes and imagine.

Imagine Sherlock, in the kitchen, working on some experient.
Imagine Sherlock, pacing around the flat, muttering about some case.
Imagine Sherlock, stretched across the sofa, complaining about some boring detail.

He could imagine that it was just him and Sherlock, both of them.

In his imagination, he and Sherlock were fine. He and Sherlock were smiling and joking, sharing case details over a breakfast of tea and toast.

Just close your eyes,
you'll be alright.
Come morning light,
you and I'll be
safe and sound.

"It's... fine."

They were fine, in John's mind.
He hadn't walked out, in John's mind.
Their last words hadn't been in an argument, in John's mind.
Sherlock hadn't said goodbye, in John's mind.
Sherlock wasn't dead, in John's mind.

In John's mind, they were simply safe and sound.

Safe and Sound is a song by Taylor Swift. Title of this ficlet is a lyric from the song. I own nothing. I do not own Sherlock, either.

Ever since I heard this song, I was determined to write to it. Finally managed to get to that. Oh, the Reichenfeels.

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