Part 2 of my Jumpers and Scarves series.

Based off this post by doomslock: post/26509329085

Dream Lord

Sherlock never imagined that he would be in this situation. Pretending to be dead, hunting down members of Moriarty's web, dismantling said web, and lying to his best friend. He'd been gone for nearly two years now, and while he had contacts that kept him updated about John's life without him, he hadn't seen the man since his speech at the grave site. But according to his sources John was beginning to move on and had re-entered the dating world. And he was doing rather well without Sherlock there to ruin his dates.

After he'd taken out the sniper who'd been set after John, Sherlock had taken up refuge in Germany. He needed to get out of the massive country and somewhere smaller. The massive size of it was beginning to make him feel small, and Sherlock Holmes did not like to feel insignificant. He got a cheap flat and played his violin for all hours of the night, much to his neighbor's dismay. He was evicted three times due to noise violations before he decided that living on the streets was not only cheaper, but more inconspicuous. He'd been living among the homeless for barely a week before they turned on him, feeling threatened by the outsider and the newcomer. They took his violin, any spare cash he had on him, and the drugs he'd purchased moments before. Well, that was probably for the best. John would be disappointed in him if he returned to his drug habits. The homeless left him in an abandoned alley behind a rather large pile of bins, thankfully allowing him to keep his great Belstaff coat. He bundled into the coat, though it didn't provide much warmth. He managed to find some more coats in the bins that someone was throwing out and bundled up in those as well. He pulled a hood over his head and settled down for the night, curled in as tight as he could to conserve body heat.

Sherlock blinked when he heard the sound of what appeared to be some large machine trying to move with the emergency brakes still on. He lifted his head and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, pushing the hood off his head to ruffle his hair. The noise sounded vaguely familiar though. He searched his mind palace before he realised what it was.

It was the sound of the TARDIS, the Doctor's spaceship from John's favourite science fiction television series Doctor Who. But that was impossible. It was a fictional television series. It wasn't real. And it was completely ridiculous. Time travel, a Police Box that was bigger on the inside, a mad man running around time and space who could change his face. It was a work of fiction.

And yet there it was. The blue Police Box was materilising right down the street. He blinked multiple times and pinched himself before he finally accepted what he was seeing as truth.

'Once you've eliminated the possible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,' he muttered to himself. He stood up and shed most of the coats, except for his traditional Belstaff, and made his way over to the box. He hid behind a wall when the Doctor made his appearance, jumping out of the box with a wide grin on his face.

'Ah! Berlin! Wunderbar!'

'Oh calm down,' a Scottish voice said, a very ginger woman appearing next to the Doctor. 'It's not the planet Barcelona you said you'd take us to.'

'Yeah. I wanted to see the dogs without noses,' a gangly male said, sidling up next to the girl.

'We'll get there soon enough,' the Doctor promised. 'But don't you want to see the Berlin wall in all its glory?'

'Well, that does sound kind of interesting,' the male said.

'Precisely!' the Doctor said enthusiastically. 'Come on!' He lead the group toward the wall and Sherlock followed discretely, ducking behind bins and alleyways whenever one of the companions would turn around to check behind them. When they finally made it to the wall, Sherlock could feel the disappointment wash over the group like a tidal wave.

'Doctor,' the woman said, turning to glare at him pointedly. 'I thought we were going to see the wall in "all its glory."'

'This is the present day,' the male said. 'Our time.'

'Well, the TARDIS must be off then,' the Doctor huffed.

'The TARDIS is always off,' the woman complained. 'Come on, Rory. We're gonna go explore.'

'But, shouldn't we stay with the Doctor?' the man, Rory, asked, looking back at the Doctor.

'He needs time alone with the TARDIS,' the woman laughed. 'I think he's been neglecting her for a bit too long, and she's acting out to get attention. If you need us, Doctor, we'll be eating German food and drinking German beer.'

The Doctor sighed and waved the couple off. He scuffed his shoe against the ground and looked at the remnants of the Berlin wall. He sighed loudly and headed off toward the TARDIS, passing Sherlock on the way but paying him no notice. But then he got one of those feelings. Like he was being watched and followed, and he never ignored that feeling. He paused and turned around, staring dumbfounded when he saw the late, great Sherlock Holmes staring right back at him.

'Hello, Doctor,' Sherlock said calmly.

'You're supposed to be dead,' the Doctor said, pointing an accusing finger at the detective. 'Your best friend saw you fall. He's in pieces!'

'Out of every single person in this universe I thought you would be the last one to judge me,' Sherlock scoffed.

'Why? Because I faked my death to save the universe?' the Doctor laughed sarcastically. 'I didn't lie to my best friends!'

'You know, you aren't normally this crass on the show,' Sherlock huffed.

'That's because it's fiction,' the Doctor pointed out. 'I'm supposed to have flaws just like everyone else. Even you.'

'So I was right then? This isn't really happening?'

'Of course not,' the Doctor laughed. 'Genius like you? You know this can't possibly be real. At least not in this century. Only time will tell if it will be possible to travel through the fabric of time.'

'So why am I having this dream then? I'm not sure I understand.'

'Subconscious trying to get you home to John?' the Doctor suggested. 'To get you to finish so you can go back before it's too late?'

'Too late? Too late for what?'

'Ah. That's it,' the Doctor grinned. 'This is so you can finally admit the truth to yourself.'

'What truth?' Sherlock asked, baffled beyond belief now.

'That you have feelings for John,' the Doctor stated.

'But I know I have feelings for John,' Sherlock said, raising a questioning eyebrow. 'I care about him more than I have any other friend–'

'No, that's not what I mean,' the Doctor said, shaking his head. 'Not platonic, friendly feelings. I mean more of the emotional, lovey-dovey feelings.'

'Please,' Sherlock scoffed. 'I feel nothing toward John except friendship.'

'You just keep telling yourself that,' the Scottish girl said, appearing from seemingly out of nowhere. 'But we're inside your head, Sherlock. And we know how you think.' She tapped her own forehead for emphasis.

'You are ficticious characters brought to life by actors,' Sherlock growled. 'You're only in my head because John forces me to watch your show with him now and again.'

'You still talk about him in the present tense,' the woman – Amelia. Sherlock remembered her name now – cooed, placing a hand over her heart. 'How sweet. Are you sure you aren't harbouring feelings toward him?'

'Yes! I'm sure!' Sherlock growled at her.

'So you admit you've got feelings for him?' Amy grinned smugly.

'That isn't what you asked me,' Sherlock shot back. 'Don't try to trick me. You know who I am. It doesn't work.'

'Can't blame a girl for trying,' she shrugged.

'Honestly, Sherlock, the more you fight this the more difficult it's going to become,' the Doctor sighed.

'But if I do admit it and John doesn't feel the same way, what then?' Sherlock retorted. 'I'd rather not lay all my cards on the table only to have John sweep them away. Because, as he's very apt to remind people, he isn't gay.'

'I never said you had to admit that you love him,' the Doctor pointed out. 'Apologies, but I'm not certain you're capable of that level of emotion right now. Perhaps sometime in the future. But who knows?'

'Wouldn't you technically know?' Sherlock smirked.

'Oh, I like him,' Amy laughed. 'Look. All you have to do is just admit you care for the guy in more than just a platonic way. But you have to mean it, believe it yourself, recognise it as truth in order for us to go away. So why do you think your subconscious chose us to tell you this versus Spock?'

'Because you're John's favourite programme on television and, well, he's my best friend so occasionally I would sit down with him and watch an episode or two.'

'"Best friend,"' Amy noted. 'Now we're getting somewhere.'

'John's always been my best friend,' Sherlock stated. 'How is that a development?'

'Because you've never said it aloud,' the Doctor answered. 'Well, technically you still haven't, but you know what I mean.'

'I've never called John my best friend?' Sherlock frowned.

'You've introduced him as your friend, but never called him your best friend,' the Doctor explained.

'I haven't?'

'Nope.'

'So John doesn't know I consider him my best friend?'

'Nope,' Amy said, emphasising the 'p.' 'so you should get back and let him know. Before it's too late.'

'Too late? What do you mean–?'

'You know about his lady friend,' the Doctor interrupted. 'How long do you suppose you have until he moves on entirely?'

'Good for John,' Sherlock huffed. 'He deserves happiness after all I've put him through.'

'That's really all you have to say?' Amy scoffed. 'Sherlock, I realise you're a genius, but you're really quite stupid.'

Sherlock growled and stared at the ginger woman. 'I didn't ask for your opinion. John is my best friend and I care for him deeply, but if I showed up now I would ruin his only chance at happiness after what I've done and I would rather not do that to him. Because he deserves that much after all the shit I've put him through.'

'That's good enough for me,' the Doctor grinned. He clapped Sherlock on the shoulder and the detective jumped slightly. 'Hold onto that, those feelings of loyalty and devotion for John. Don't look at me like that. You know what I mean by devotion.'

'Doesn't make the word any less obsessive,' Sherlock scoffed. 'But yes. John is my best friend and I'm doing this for him. So that he can be safe to live his life.'

'Good,' the Doctor grinned. 'Come along, Pond.' Amy followed the Doctor back to the TARDIS and Rory ambled along behind. The Doctor popped back out momentarily before they could disappear.

'Don't forget to fully analyse your feeling when you wake,' he told Sherlock. 'You may be surprised at what you find.'

Sherlock woke with a jolt, a loud noise startling him to alertness. He looked around and noticed someone had tossed a rather large bag of garbage practically on top of him. He made a noise of disgust and stood up, wiping off the remnants of what appeared to be multiple foods mixed together off his pilfered coats. He made his way out of the alley and thought over his bizarre dream and what the fictional television characters had told him.

He knew John was his best friend. He was the closest and longest friend he'd ever had, and the only friend who had not only tolerated his bullshit antics but had also called him out on them. He smiled to himself as he remembered everything John had done (or hadn't done) for him over the eighteen months they'd known each other. And he realised something. John was not only good to him, but he was good for him. He was better than any drug and... Sherlock had to admit that John held a special place in what little heart he had. He swallowed thickly and made himself keep walking despite how much his feet hurt. John was his best friend. That was all.

But could he have been something more? Or was it too late? The Doctor was right. Sherlock needed to sort through his emotions toward John and come to a conclusion before he lost him completely. So he found an isolated café and sat down, mulling over his thoughts about John as he sipped a cup of coffee he wouldn't be paying for.