Love is an incredibly curious thing indeed. (Sherlock one on one) (Closed!)

(Night!)

(Morning!)

(Afternoon! Sorry, I was out today.)

(Hey! Continue?)

(Sure!)

“I saw you fall. I-I know I saw you fall.” He let out with a shaky breath. “How did you survive it?”

"That's for me to know and you to always wonder." Sherlock said, not wanting to talk about it.

“I was right. Didn’t miss you at all.” He spoke as he fell asleep into the blankets.

Soon afterwards, Sherlock fell asleep too. (This is him dreaming, fyi) He found himself on the sidewalk, seeing John…. on the roof. John jumped, falling. "No!" Sherlock cried out, but it was to late. He ran over to John, but his friend was dead. Moriarty's laughter filled the busy street. Suddenly Sherlock woke up in a cold sweat. "John!" he shouted, his face white as a sheet.

“What?! What?! What is it?” He yelped, jumping out of bed and snatching up the mug that was on the bedside table.

(I have to go for a bit, but I’ll be on later.)

(Kk) "It's… it's nothing. Go back to sleep, John."

“You almost gave me a heart attack.” He muttered along with other incoherent mumbles, pulling the covers back over him.

(Sorry I was offline, I was a bit busy.)

(It’s all good. I’ve been offline all day today too.)

(Continue?)

“You almost gave me a heart attack.” He muttered along with other incoherent mumbles, pulling the covers back over him.

(Sure)

"Oh come on, you're overreacting. You don't have a heart condition that would induce any form of heart attack. It's not plausible that such a small shock would affect you." Sherlock grumbled.

John opened his mouth as if to say something only to close it once more and shake his head with a sigh. “Good night.” He finally responded, falling back into a light sleep.

Sherlock couldn't sleep at all. He got up, went into the main room, and picked up his violin. It had been ages since he had played. He tested the strings, which were in good condition, and began to play. It was a beautiful but mournful tune, a little shaky at first but then powerful and renewing, but yet still so, so sad.

(Hello?)

(Hey, sorry about that.)

John awoke from his light sleep to the sounds of Sherlock’s violin. With a small smile, he listened to the beautiful tune with almost mournful meaning, staring up at the ceiling. He’s alive… A little over due, He glowed with a chuckle. but he did as I had pleaded at his grave. After a minute or so of just lying there, listening to the gorgeous music pour in from under the door, John made his way over to the main room and sat in his big sofa chair wanting Sherlock to continue.

(Sorry I disappeared!) Sherlock turned around to look at John. "Yes? Is this bothering you? I can stop if you want." he said.

(No problem! I was the one who disappeared, so I’m sorry.)

“No, please.” He motioned to the violin. “I just wasn’t tired anymore.”

Sherlock resumed the song, but stopped. "I can't focus. I'm going out." he said, grabbing his coat.

Momentarily confused, John remained seated. Getting his head together, he snatched up his coat and quickly followed Sherlock out the door. “Where are we going?”

"You don't have to come. I'm just going out. For a walk." he said, shrugging.

“Okay.” He nodded, continuing to follow Sherlock down the street.

"London is very peaceful at night." Sherlock said, mostly to himself.

John looked around at the buildings around them. “Well, yes, I suppose it is.”