A/N: Hullo! Jordan here! How have you all been? It's been a while since I posted a one shot so here you go! Just for reference, this takes place sometime in the few weeks after A Scandal in Belgravia and before The Hounds of Baskervilles. Enjoy!
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John sat straight upright in bed, sweating. He looked at the clock: 1:17 AM. He had just awoken up from the worst nightmare he'd had since the war. Not that he didn't have frequent nightmares, he did. But they were all the same. Every night, John, back in Afghanistan, would see his squadron partner go down and the gunman turn on him. Being replayed in his dreams over and over. Night after night. Except this time, it was different. When he looked down at his friend, he saw none other than Sherlock, shot dead on the ground. And when he looked back up at the gunman, John saw Moriarty's smirking face. And as the consulting criminal turned to John and pulled the trigger, he had jolted awake, screaming. John felt his wet face and knew he had been crying out in his sleep; it was a wonder his flatmate hadn't yelled at him to stuff it. 'Sherlock must be sleeping,' John thought to himself.
Once he realized he wouldn't be getting back to sleep that night, John meandered downstairs to make himself a strong cup of tea to push away the lingering thoughts of the nightmare. When he sat down in his armchair with a cuppa and a book, he noticed Sherlock standing at the entryway of the sitting room.
"Oh. Hi, Sherlock."
"Couldn't get back to sleep?"
"Yeah.." John should have expected that Sherlock would already know the pretenses of John's early awakening.
"Sorry if I woke you," John said, squinting to see Sherlock in the dim light of the flat.
"No it's alright, I was already awake. I was in my room, reading up on the affects of Tetrodotoxin on different species of mammals," Sherlock said, walking over and sitting across from John in his chair with a large book.
"Oh alright then, well go back to your reading, I won't bother you." John said with a tiny smile.
They read in peaceful silence for roughly 30 minutes when Sherlock heard a sniffle and noticed the few tears running down his friend's face. When John realized Sherlock was studying him, he wiped his face and tried his best to look unaffected.
"Would you like to talk about it?" Sherlock asked in a surprising gentle tone.
"No, that's okay," John countered, "Wouldn't want to bore you. I'll be fine."
Then Sherlock did something completely out of the ordinary. He got up from his seat, set down his book, and walked over to John. He knelt down and put his hand on John's knee. "John. Don't play this down for me. I'm used to hearing you shout occasionally with your nightmares but this, this was screaming. Terrorized screaming. And if it was that bad, I don't want you to try and suffer through it alone. If I can help you in any way with this, please tell me," Sherlock finished, staring into John's teary eyes.
"I, um, wow Sherlock," John said with wide eyes. "I wasn't expecting that, any of that. Thank you. It means a lot."
They gazed at each other for what seemed like an eternity until John realized that their faces had moved closer together so that only a couple inches remained between him and the detective.
John jolted up from his seat. "You know what, I am actually still pretty tired. I'm gonna try to get back to sleep," John said, starting to walk up to his room.
"But Jo-" "I'll be fine, Sherlock."
John climbed the stairs to his bedroom and collapsed onto his bed after shutting the door. He heard Sherlock walk to his room and sighed. He kept thinking about Sherlock's sudden want to help him with his nightmares and the closeness of their lips afterwards. He shook the thoughts from his mind and crawled under the covers, shutting his eyes.
Sherlock had just turned off his bedside light when he heard John shouting and then the click of his lamp turning on. He sighed and looked at his clock; it was just 2:45. It hadn't taken John long to wake up from another nightmare. Sherlock was just considering going to see if John was okay when he heard a soft knock at his door. "Come in."
John opened the door slowly and shuffled in. "I, um, had another one. A nightmare. Well, it was the same as the one earlier."
Sherlock said nothing but patted the bed beside him. John's eyes widened but he still went and sat on the very edge of the side opposite Sherlock."John, tell me about it. Maybe it'll help," Sherlock offered. John turned to face him. "Well, I was in Afghanistan, just like the other dreams. And it was the attack that gave me this," he pointed to his shoulder through his sweat soaked shirt, "and I saw my friend, Tommy was his name, get shot right through the forehead. Except when I looked down," John paused, his voice shaking, "it was you lying there on the sand. And the shooter was Moriarty."
Tears began to fall from the soldier's eyes onto his lap. Sherlock didn't hesitate to sit up and grab John gently, bringing him in an embrace to his chest. Sherlock smoothed down John's hair and held him as he cried onto Sherlock's shoulder. "I-I'm sorry, Sh-Sherlock," John whimpered. "Shhh, it's alright. You don't have to apologize. You're fine now. I've got you."
Sherlock held John until his sobs had subsided and he had stopped shaking. John sat back and peered at Sherlock with his red, puffy eyes. "Thank you Sherlock. It really means a lot to me. I just.. I just can't get that image of you getting shot out of my brain. Ever since what happened at the pool, a-and Moriarty's involvement with the Adler case..I can't stop worrying he'll come after you again. And that this time, you might not walk away from it. I...just..I can't.." John hung his head as fresh tears filled his eyes.
"Shhh, John, I'm here. I'm fine and I'm not going anywhere," Sherlock said, pulling John close and kissing the top of his head. "John, I am not going anywhere. You are safe here with me. I promise."
John looked up and met Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock was so close to John that he could feel Sherlock breath every time he exhaled. But, surprisingly, he wasn't uncomfortable with their close proximity. Then, Sherlock, while watching John's reactions for any unease, moved in closer and brushed his lips against John's lightly. John gasped and pressed his mouth against Sherlock's. Sherlock froze for a moment, not expecting John to return the kiss, and then began moving his lips in sync with the army doctor. John sighed against Sherlock's mouth and wrapped his arms around him. Sherlock placed one hand on John's back and one hand stayed cradling his face.
After letting the kiss go on for a few minutes, the detective pulled back and rested his forehead on John's. "Stay with me tonight. In my bed. Please John. I want to help you." John pecked Sherlock's lips and quietly replied, "Okay."
Sherlock settled back down on his side under the covers and opened his arms to John. John laid himself stiffly on the bed with his back to Sherlock. Then, two arms reached around his middle and Sherlock pulled John to his chest. John relaxed and smiled, pressing himself against the detective and closing his eyes. Sherlock looked down at the soldier and planted a kiss in his hair. Sherlock closed his eyes and the two boys gradually fell asleep. And when John woke up with Sherlock's arm draped across his chest and his breath on his neck, he felt happy. And safe. For the first time since the incident at the pool and really since Afghanistan, John was content. He felt Sherlock stir beside him and kiss his shoulder. John turned around to offer a kiss to Sherlock's lips.
"Well good morning to you too, Watson," Sherlock chuckled. "How did you sleep? No nightmares?"
"No nightmares," John smiled and leaned in for another kiss.
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Well what did you guys think of my second oneshot? I hope you liked it and please feel free to suggest what I should do next. Love you all! <3
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