MidReal Story

Sherlock finds himself in a hallucination or alternate reality where

Scenario: Sherlock finds himself in a hallucination or alternate reality where he is sitting at Angelo's with a younger John Watson, who is more open and adoring than the John he knows, leading to a conversation about their romantic interests and potentially exploring a relationship together.
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Sherlock finds himself in a hallucination or alternate reality where he is sitting at Angelo's with a younger John Watson, who is more open and adoring than the John he knows, leading to a conversation about their romantic interests and potentially exploring a relationship together.
The bed is soft, the pillows plump.
The air smells of garlic and tomato sauce.
Somewhere in the distance, dishes are clinking together, and I can hear a woman’s voice singing along to the radio.
It takes me a moment to place where I am—I haven’t been here in years—but when I do, I sit up abruptly, my heart pounding in my chest.
"John?" I call out, but there’s no answer.
I frown as I look around the room; it’s empty except for the bed and an old wardrobe that looks as though it might fall apart at any moment.
A door creaks somewhere behind me, and I whirl around just in time to see him emerge from another room.
"Oh," he says, looking surprised to see me sitting up in bed.
"You’re awake."
"Why wouldn’t I be?"
I ask.
He gives me a shy smile.
"I’ll just…ah…I’ll be right back," he says before disappearing again.
I hear him moving around in the other room for a moment before his voice drifts back to me: "Two coffees. Black."
I stare after him for a few seconds before getting out of bed and following the sound of his voice.
I find him standing by a window with his back to me, holding two mugs in one hand and a newspaper in the other.
He turns as he hears me approach, and my breath catches in my throat at the look on his face.
He looks at me with eyes full of adoration and love, his gaze warm and tender as it sweeps over my face.
"Morning," he says in a soft voice.
I don’t know what to say; I can only stare at him as my heart races in my chest.
He looks…
He looks young, I realize with a start.
Not that John is old now—he’s only thirty-seven—but he looks even younger than when we first met all those years ago.
His hair is shorter than it is now, and his face is smooth and unlined, and he’s looking at me like…
Like this isn’t the first time we’ve woken up together like this.
Sherlock finds himself in a hallucination or alternate reality where
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