Johnlock Fluff (mostly) Oneshots

Nightmares Rewrite

Hey yall, this is a rewrite of my first chapter in this book because I feel like it needs to be improved. I'm sorry that I haven't updated in a while, but thank you all for very nearly 26k reads!!! I still can't believe that my little book of oneshots has become so popular, it is honestly amazing to me. (This is not proofread and was all written between the hours of 12 and 2am, so brace yourselves)

John's POV
There was a loud bang to my left, and I was showered in dust and rocks. I put my arms over my head to protect myself from any stones that could potentially injure me. A bomb had gone off, no more than 25 meters away from me. There were still so many injured people who I needed to go save, so I continued forward. I took cover for a few moments, before changing direction to go to tend to a civilian's leg which was bleeding badly. I was about to run over to them when a soldier came running towards me. I recognised him instantly as Tommy, my best friend for as long as I could remember. He was so close to the safety of the hiding place that I was in, yet not close enough. A bullet went straight into his chest, making him collapse forwards. I knew in that moment that he was dead, but that didn't stop me from checking his pulse and trying to wake him up.

"No. No! You can't die! We're going home together! You promised me!" I sobbed, while desperately trying to find some sort of a pulse, even though I knew I wouldn't find one. Everything around me seemed to fade away slightly, becoming slow motion. My heart shattered into what felt like a million shards of glass as I grieved for the dead man who lay in front of me.

As I was looking down at the body of my lifeless friend, a sudden pain blossomed in my shoulder, and when I looked down, a pool of red was seeping through my clothes.

I sat up in bed suddenly, grabbing the gun that I kept on my bedside table for emergencies, and pointing it at where the enemy in my dream had been, and where he still seemed to be due to my sleep paralysis (okay, I don't know what sleep paralysis for everyone else, but when I get it, I literally cannot move, even if I picture someone walking towards me, overall, it's an absolute bitch, but I can usually force myself to move after a few minutes).

A few minutes passed before I was able to make myself move, and when I did, the man before me evaporated like mist. I breathed a few deep, shaky breaths to steady myself.

I glanced over at the clock. 4:41am. Roughly around 5 and a half hours of sleep, that was good, that was more than normal. Knowing there was no chance of getting back to sleep, I decided to just get up.

There were no current cases, so Sherlock slept more, though it did mean he shot the walls more, which did result in more nightmares for me, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him. I knew that he needed to do it to relieve his boredom, and I wasn't going to be the one to incur the wrath of an angry and bored Sherlock Holmes.

Downstairs, the lights were on, I could see that much from my room, but I couldn't see or hear if Sherlock was awake and up or not.

I had a quick shower to clean myself from the sweat, and then I went downstairs to the living room. Thankfully, it was Sherlock-free, so he wouldn't question why I had come down so early. That had happened once, and I made up some awful excuse that he probably didn't even believe, but he just accepted it.

When I finished making tea, it was a little after 5 in the morning, so I curled up in my chair with a book and began to read.

It was 9am when Sherlock emerged from his bedroom, and I said good morning to him. He seemed to be in a normal sleeping pattern at the moment, which I was happy to see. That man didn't sleep nearly enough, or eat enough for that matter.

When he walked into the living room, he stared at me for a few seconds, then he frowned a bit, almost as if he were worried. If he were anyone else on the planet, I would say that he looked concerned or worried, but knowing Sherlock, he was probably neither.