"It was lovely, don't you think?" Sherlock cheers. He is lying on his bed. His bed is soaked right now. "Come." He motions me to sit behind him.

"Do you want to sleep? I'll go." I stand up.

"Waste of time. I want to play a little game." He pulls me back and he comes up with the ideal idea to play 'guess who'. It seems like he is drunk, coz he cannot keep balance because of his tiredness. He gets a note with 'cat', so it's not too difficult for him.

"First question. Am I a human?" I ask.

"You are, but the one on your note not." He responds spry. He points at the note and laughs. Probably it is something way too hard to guess, like 'Honorificabilitudinitatibus'. He know that such a word is not allowed. "Okay, am I a human?"

"You're always going to say me after?" I want to know. He laughs and nods approvingly. "You're not a human."

"I'm talking about your note, Sherlock." He giggles shyly and he finally figures out how the play works.

So we played a long time. He guessed soon it was a cat, but he found I had to write a race. Or age. Or colour... I could already suspect the mine wasn't easy.

"Sodium hydroxide?" I shout. Okay, it is smart, but that's not the game. "Where is the colour?"

"Just white, John. Just white." He responds. As proof he shows some pictures.

"You are indeed drunk, isn't it?"

"I don't need brain damage." Sherlock stands up and he walks in a straight line. Thereafter he takes some books and he puts them on his head to support his case with his arguments.

"I believe you, Sherlock." He nods pleased and he throws the books on his wet bed. In all the time we were here, we didn't shower or clothe. "So, your brain is in order to solve the mysterious case?" I ask, thinking about the notorious cadaver.

"It really is suicide, John." He sits dramatically down on the bed and looks surprised at me. Surprised, because according to him I am stupid. Surprised, because he don't understand why people can have that stupid brains. "Tomorrow we go back." He gives a look at the wall clock and changes his words. "This afternoon."

"We'll see." I cover with my hand my mouth and yawn. Is Sherlock so heartless and that's why he doesn't yawn too? Ordinary people would yawn when someone important in his life does that? "I'm tired." I say consciously.

A few minutes we were still awake. I told about my job in the war. He really was interested in this conversation. Not once he supervened. Not once he rolled his eyes. I just had finished and I wanted to leave his room, but Sherlock was nodded off in his thinking position. I thought he never needed to sleep. I doubted to wake him up or maybe to lay a blanket over him. I did not want to wake him up. But maybe I wanted to. If he woke up in a dark, silent room, he would go crazy. For the only time he slept, I rather let him sleep. The only way to reassured him is to stayed here. I laid a blanket over him and I run quickly upstairs to pick up my pillow and sheet. I lied down on the ground besides his bed. Waiting until he wakes up.

***

"John? John?" I hear. Sherlock is awake and he desperately and anxiously waits for an response. The curtains are closed and it seems it is midnight. We don't see each other.

"Sherlock? Everything is okay. I'm here." I try to find the beginning of the sheet and I throw it away from me. I grope for his body, but I think I am turned to the wall. I don't have a clue at all where I am and I don't know where my pillow is. Searching I crawl over the ground.

"John, put on the light." He commands. Sherlock clutches his bed and I hear he is tossing. I'm still crawling over the ground and collide into the wall. I didn't know his room was that big. That big whereby I do not know where there is a switch, or where his bed is. I just feel an annoying wall and an irritating ground.

"I don't know where I am." I grope on the ground and I remain bended sitting that way. Exhausted, I lift my head and I feel a stab against my head. It begins to peak and I press against the sore. "Aw." I sigh.

"Is everything alright, John?" Sherlock asks worriedly. He tries to stand up on his bed, but his mattress is ultra-soft, whereby he falls on his side.

"I'm fine. I come to you." I reach out my hands and I seek support from the wall. My hands follow the lines on the wallpaper. My feet follow the straight path lengthwise the wall. My head is just thinking about Sherlock. I came here to help him, so I do not want to disappoint him. He also wants to help, but it's too dark and that's one of his biggest fears. My hart begins to pound, my hand starts shaking. Probably it's early in the afternoon and we don't see anything. I remember that somewhere in this room there is a seat and I am looking for that.

"I will wait." Sherlock allows. He knows he'll never find me. He knows he will fall. He knows I want to help him, so he allows. He knows more and more what I want and what other people think. His bed is squeaking and he throws his sheets on the ground.

"What are you doing, Sherlock?" I look straight to where the sound probably is and I try to perceive shapes. I cannot imagine it. I don't have a clue where the sheets come from.

"If you fall, you fall on the sheets." He says childishly.

"Thanks, but keep them with you. Then you can relax." I suppose. He doesn't have to immolate his sheets.

"John, I don't want to relax. I want... you." He whispers. My heart starts to pound even harder and my hands start to shake even more. He helps me and he reveals his feelings. I have such a hold over him, I laugh to myself.

"Okay, you can help me." I sit down on my knees and I am listening to where his coming answer will come from. I am sitting with my back to the wall and I breathe loudly. Don't knowing where you are is frustrating, but meanwhile soothing. You cannot do anything wrongly, because nobody sees.

"I'm going out of my bed right now." He places his feet quietly on the ground. "What side are you? The window or the door?" He touches with his hands on the edge of his bed. He stands up and the bed squeaks along with his upright movement.

"Opposite to the window. In the corner." I touch the wall to be sure and nod approvingly for myself.

"Keep talking. I'll follow your voice." I crawl to a place, what according to me the middle of his room is. His bed is still far away. Like Sherlock is too.

"Sherlock, you do not have to do this. I know this is hard for you."

"Help you is my duty." He knocks on his chest, to prove his courage. He stands before his bed and he listens carefully to my words.

"I am approximately in the middle of the room. Find me." I reach out my hands, but I can't feel his bed. I stand up and I take a step forward. I believe in the right direction. With my left feet I take a step forward and my feet gets stuck on the sheet. It's my own sheet, so I'm back where I was first. I fall forward and I can stop the fall to put my hands in front of me. He hears my fall and he got scared.

"Everything's alright?" He asks anxiously. He thinks I've fallen severely.

"No te preocupes." I stand up and still.

"I hear you well. I think you're close." I feel a braze coming to me. I know he's close. His feet moves slowly on the ground. My heart unwinds, but when I smell him my heart starts to pound again. My heart almost jumps out of my chest. Sherlock takes a new step forward and I do the same. Both my feet do not stand on the ground, when Sherlock puts his hands on the side of my arms. It isn't voluntary, because he stumbled this time over his sheets. He pushes me on the ground, but luckily my head lands on my sheet. He falls on me and his hands are besides my body. I try to push him away, but we turn around and I'm on him. I feel his breath of exhaustion on my cheek.

"Sorry." Is all he says. He breathes louder and I feel something soft on my lips. His lips are on mine and know this is exhausting for his neck. I kiss him violently and I feel his warm breath in my neck. Kissing I straighten him, so I sit in his laps. He takes his lips from mine and he whispers in my ear.

"Let's see if we are who we really are." He stands up and he has great strength to think and to find the window. He draws the curtains open. The bright light penetrate the room and I squeeze my eyes. "You're real." He cheers happily. He walks back to me and he holds my hands. His lips touch my neck gently and I am breathing in his ear. Suddenly all the noises of the city are disappeared and we are the only ones in the world.

Someone slams the door. We are both shocked.

"Sorry, Sherlock and John. I did not want to disturb you." She turns to stone. Her mouth is open because of her amazement. "Oh, I'm so happy for you two." She cannot resist and she comes to us. She embraces us firmly and she crushes my shoulders between her strong hands. "When is your wedding?" She begins crazed. "I have no dress." She panics, but Sherlock silences her.

"We're not getting married." He looks at my disappointed gaze. "Not yet."