Wake Me When the Nightmares Start

Sherlock opens his eyes slowly, looking around confused in the darkness. He sits up slowly; the dark curls falling around his pale face.

He swings his long limbs over the side of the bed and stands. Sherlock grabs his dressing gown and slips it on over his silk nightwear.

He opens the door to his room and looks out, his eyes scanning his surroundings. He hears the noise again, a soft whimper and something like a cry.

He walks out slowly, moving towards the noise coming from the living room. Sherlock peers around the doorframe into the room that was lit by a dim light.

He sees John laying on the couch, his eyebrows furrowed and his hands clasped into fists. John tosses again and let out a cry.

"John?" Sherlock's low, baritone voice whispered into the air. Not getting a response he walks closer to the couch.

He stops and sits on the coffee table, letting his knees hit the edge of the couch. He notices tears around John's eyes and moves his hand out slowly, placing it on John's shoulder.

"John.." John's eyes shoot open, a loud gasp escaping his lips. His breathing becomes heavy, and he scrambles to sit up.

Sherlock leans back slightly, moving out of John's personal space.

"John, it was just a dream." Sherlock speaks to him soothingly, resting his hand on John's knee.

John stares at him with pupil blown eyes, his chest heaving.

"Just breath and calm down, it wasn't real." John shakes his head, tears still streaming down his face.

"It seemed too real." His voice sounded broken, his words sticking to his throat, barely audible.

Sherlock looks at him with soft eyes, running his thumb over John's knee absently.

After several long minutes John's breathing finally calmed and the tears stopped streaming. John sat there rigidly, staring off into space.

"You need sleep, John." Sherlock breaks the heavy silence, bringing his hand back to his side.

"I can't, Sherlock. I can't go back to bed." John speaks in a rasp, his eyes swinging to meet Sherlock's gaze.

"Then I'll stay up with you."

"Sherlock, please go back to bed." John almost pleaded with Sherlock, a sad look in his eyes.

"No, John, I'm not going back to bed unless you go to bed." John opens his mouth to speak but closes it shortly after, the words not cooperating.

"C-can I sleep in your room?" John's voice comes out quietly, causing Sherlock to lean in to hear what he said. He sits back immediately, his eyes wide.

"Yes... Yes of course you can. I'll sleep on the couch, and you can have my room." John shakes his head incredulously, a small smile on his lips.

"That's not what I mean Sherlock. I'm not going to take your room from you, but I can't sleep out here, or in my room. I can't be alone."

Sherlock nods in understanding, his lips pressed into a thin line.

" I understand now... But... Yes John." He stands up quickly, grabbing John's hand and pulling him to his feet.

John tilts awkwardly, his feet and legs still asleep and not ready to walk on yet.

"Jesus, give me a second, Sherlock." Sherlock drops his arm impatiently and marches to his room, his dressing gown fluttering behind him. John stretches slightly, a smile playing on his lips.