"Wake up, you need to make money."
Light glared through the window into his bedsit, casting a shadow everywhere but his closed lids, of course.
"Wake up."
That voice again. He knew it from somewhere. It was deep and smooth, like his favourite chocolate milkshake from Speedy's. Ah, how he missed that flat, but of course he couldn't afford it on his own now that he was gone. He missed Speedy's, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, but mostly him. He never went back to the flat after the day at that grave. Everyday, though, he visited that lonely headstone to chat. He probably looked crazy. He probably was.
"John."
He opened his weary eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. He dreaded the day. He always did now that the thrill of danger was gone with his flatmate -- no, his best friend. He lifted his head to find the source of the voice was no where to be found. He heard it all the time lately, but he couldn't place it anymore. He know it was right, his army pension didn't even come in nowadays after his possible involvement in the crimes he helped solve thanks to "Richard Brooke." Bloody bastard, he was.
Money, right, he needed to get money. He thanked any god out there he hadn't lost his job at Bart's. He wouldn't have been able to go to any other hospital if he tried. Despite the tragedy he suffered there on that fateful day two years ago, he couldn't leave it. He held onto it like a lifeboat. A trace of what he used to do, who he used to look up to, used to admire. That was in the past, but he just couldn't stop reliving it in his nightmares.
He stood in front of his desk at Bart's now, an hour later. His cane gripped hard in his right hand and his eyes trained on the package on his stack of paperwork. Mary must've brought it in. He let out a sigh; not the all suffering sigh he used when Sher-- he would do something stupid or reckless, but one that sounded too tired to care anymore.
He was tired. Much too tired to bother opening up some pointless package.
"Go on."
But there it was. That voice again.
"Open it. It might be something fun."
It was right again. Who knew? It could be something from his sister. They hadn't talked since the fall. I would be nice to see some sign of life from her.
He opened it.
Oh.
