DONT-BL1NK

       Three years doesn't seem like a long time to most people. To some, it passes in the blink of an eye, and something that happened all that time ago is no longer of importance. But to others, the days would drag along and seem never ending. These days were becoming bleaker, and it felt like the sun decided to take a well-earned holiday. In these years, whether it is one, two or three, so many life changing events could occur; a birth of a child, a marriage, a divorce, or a death. Time is not written in stone, and any one of those events could happen in a recurring pattern, or one could happen and that was it.       Have you ever watche

       When I was one, Mummy sung me songs to help me sleep. I never had nightmares if Mummy sung. Her voice was like one of an angel, or a mermaid's, like the ones the fishermen talked about all the time. Beautiful women with beautiful voices, they had said. With flowing hair and glowing eyes. My Mummy could have been a mermaid, but she didn't like water.       When I was two, Mummy took me for a ride through the countryside. I remember the day clearly. Little birds were singing their happy songs in the trees and the sun shone brightly onto our necks. Mummy didn't let me go that day. In fact, Mummy never took me home. I never asked why, be

    I took a deep, shuddering breath as the wave of nausea passed. My breath slicked out of my mouth into the cold air and joined the fog that wrapped the dense forest in its embrace. Why am I here? I asked myself for the countless time, shivering as the air got colder. How did I get here?    A deep cough filled the silence around me, and again I tasted copper against my tongue. Blood… I coughed again, covering my mouth with my hand as it racked through my chest and another wave of nausea hit. I curled my knees up to my chest, trying to squelch the feeling from my stomach, and coughed. My throat burnt, and my stomach churned but the on

        Today was the day. It had been a week. One fucking week. One week without body parts in the fridge, one week without gunshots in the wall, one week without Sherlock.         This phone call… It's my note…         John Watson sat in Sherlock's chair. It still smelt like him. The whole flat smelt like him. Nothing changes. Well, everything has. Sherlock Holmes was dead. John failed his duty as a friend. As a best friend.         Friends protect people…  &#

                                                         A Universe Apart                                        Part I, Chapter I: The Detective, The Doctors, The Captain and The Companions.      "Um, Sherlock?" the soft words made their way to the detective's ears, rousing him from his well-earned solitude in his 'mind palace'. He sighed a little irritably at being disturbed, and opened his eyes.      "What, John?" His curt baritone broke through the silence of the living room as John came from his bedroom upstairs. His eyes shone with worry, surprise and a little bit of annoyance.      "How long has there a crack in the wall?" John

This is the way you left me, I'm not pretending, No hope, no love, no glory, No happy ending This is the way that we love, Like its forever, Then live the rest of our life, But not together         "Give. Up. Andy," Jake said for the thousandth time after I handed back his phone. "He's gone, okay?"         "No," I said defiantly. "No, Ashley's not gone."         "Ands," Jake's expression turned sympathetic. "It's been over six months. No ones seen him, heard from him, nothin'. The flat is basically barricaded."          "Jake, he-he would've left a suicide note or-or somethin'!" I stammered, not letting my brain process his rea