John's eyes flew open and he sprung up in bed when he heard the whimpers of pain coming from not too far away. He listened for a while longer and sighed with relief when he realised it was Sherlock. He threw the sheets off of him and made his way towards Sherlock's bedroom.
Once he was outside the door the whimpering turned into gasping breaths, John was considering turning around when he heard a small sob. He knocked on the door quietly before opening it.
"Um S-Sherlock?" he said tentatively, "You awake?"
"I'm fine John," he heard out of the darkness of Sherlock's room, John could see the outline of Sherlock sitting up in bed, rubbing at his eyes, "go back to bed, I'll be fine."
John walked further into the room and stopped when he felt his knees hit the edge of Sherlock's mattress. He sat down, narrowly avoiding one of Sherlock's legs, and spoke soothingly to the distressed man.
"Are you ever going to tell me what these nightmares are about?" John asked.
He sensed, more than saw, Sherlock shake his head and lie back down, "they're not important."
John sighed; he got the same response every time. It was always either, 'it's not important,' or 'it's none of your business.'
John moved onto the bed more and lay down on the side that wasn't already taken up, "what are you doing, John?" Sherlock asked, as John prodded him on the back, "move over," John whispered. Sherlock did as he was told and John got to lie down comfortably. Sherlock was looking at him with confusion; John gave him a small smile.
"Turn around," John said.
"Why?"
"Just do it, Sherlock."
Sherlock sighed before turning over, exposing his naked back to John. John lifted up a hand and placed it softly on top of Sherlock's head, before rubbing and pulling at strands of Sherlock's hair. He heard a sigh of satisfaction come from his friend, and so continued on.
"Why are you doing this John?"
John continued to play with the other man's hair as he answered, "I notice that sometimes, when you're thinking hard, or when you're stressed, you pull at your hair."
He heard Sherlock chuckle, "I don't really notice when I do that..."
"I do."
He continued to stroke Sherlock's hair until he heard Sherlock's breath slowly evening out. John smiled, satisfied, and made his way back to his own bed.
The next morning, John made his way down to the kitchen and saw Sherlock making two cups of coffee. Normally, John would make the coffee and when Sherlock did make the coffee, it was only one mug, for himself. So John was shocked, to say the least, to see two steaming hot mugs of the caffeinated beverage in each of Sherlock's hand.
"Morning John," Sherlock said, placing the two mugs on the coffee table and sitting down in his usual chair as John made his way over to his.
"What's with the coffee?" John asked, sitting down and making himself comfortable, "you never make me coffee."
Sherlock nodded slowly, "this is just my way of saying thank you for last night."
"You didn't actually have to do anything Sherlock; a simple thank you would have sufficed-."
"It's coffee, John."
John nodded, taking a sip and thinking about what to say next.
Sherlock spoke before he could.
