Dream On

...

Time stood still. Everything else rushed by, or slowed down so far that he could touch the raindrops and watch them shatter. But everything else was nothing compared to the fact that the only other person moving around like all of this was normal was dressed in a familiar coat, that hair, that face, his friend. The world felt unreal, and this made it only ever more so - he'd seen the man die, and yet there was not a scratch on him where there should be if he had.

They met in the middle of the road, cars blurred, having been stopped mid-motion, no danger at all in where they stood, and surveyed each other with a critical eye - Sherlock more than he, and something seemed like that should catch his interest for some reason, but the dreamlike state of things made him put it to one side, forgotten. Instead, he took the necessary steps, and reached out with his arms, holding the detective there as the friend he hadn't seen for so long, the same way he'd have held Harry if he'd thought he'd lost her. Like he'd never let go, because letting go meant losing again, and he couldn't risk that.

He could feel Sherlock not know precisely what to do at first, and he smiled - such a Sherlock thing, that - but eventually, the detective, his friend, returned the embrace. It was different, but at the same time, the same, along with the hesitance there being that feeling of impending loss.

He stepped away - still touching, though, he had to be sure that this was real, had to be real - to see Sherlock smiling, and there was something sad there.

"John," he was saying, "John." Clear, his voice was, like it was right next to his ear. "John," yet so far away, so very, very far away. "You have to wake up now, John."

And wake up he did, imagining for one moment that he could still see that coat billowing in the wind as the ghost of his friend walked away as he sat up from the pavement, head spinning.

...

AN: Written in Tumblr as a response to a picture I saw. Post-Reichenbach, John is walking down the road when time stands still. He thinks he's seen Sherlock, and who knows? But then he wakes up, and it turns out he's been knocked over, or that's what they're saying happened...

Link below is fic in context with the art that inspired it. Go look. It may make more sense that way.

http: /leonawriter .tumblr .com/post/ 21778070112 /maxkennedy24-sherlock- bbc-dream-on-time