"Oh.." He said softly. "Who was it?" He wasn't sure that John had heard him, because he was already turning around and heading out of the room.

Sherlock ran his hands through his hair What the fuck was happening? He was Sherlock Holmes, graduate chemist and all around arsehole. He wasn't a god... He was just a regular person.

Then why did he dream of Hell, and a three headed dog and a river of souls and a stone throne?