That Ship Has Sailed

John & Sherlock

A loud whistle followed by a bang lit up the dark night. People screaming followed.

Loud lights flashed in the sky and the whistling continued, followed by flashes and bangs.

John sat up straight in bed, panting and staring around the dark room. His face dripped with sweat as he sat. He felt it dripping off his forehead and nose.

Suddenly, another whistle and bang, followed by a flash of light had John standing, gun in hand. He walked quietly toward his window and stood, back against his wall. Slowly, he moved the curtain and peered out. Another whistle came, followed by a delayed bang and John was startled, but hung his head.

For a moment, he stood, rubbing his eyes with one hand, then he walked back to his bed and put his gun back in it's place.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, then left the room, muttering, "Bloody fireworks," under his breath.

He entered the bathroom and turned on the shower, getting into it and standing under the cold stream of water, chilling him to the bone, but calming him from his frantic panicking sweats.

When he finished, the celebrations outside were still in full swing. They still startled him, though he knew, now, that they were merely fireworks. Still, he walked toward the living room of his flat and poured himself a drink, sitting in his chair and rubbing his tired eyes.

"Trouble sleeping?"

"No shit," John muttered. He paused, then said, "Sorry," looking up at the man who had just entered the room, "Sorry, Yeah, had a bit of trouble once the fireworks started."

Sherlock nodded, not saying another word. He paused, then poured the military doctor a bit more of his selected drink before going to the window. He stared out for a few minutes, hearing a few more loud bangs and seeing the flashes of light. He heard John gasp as he jumped once again. He then wasted no time in closing all the curtains of the apartment and shutting the windows that had been open. He returned with his violin and after tuning it, began playing a peaceful, soft melody.

He watched the pained look melt from John's face and continued playing, even after he saw John set down his glass and shift positions, slowly drifting off to sleep. Even after he was asleep, Sherlock continued to play.

When John awoke the next morning, Sherlock was still playing, though in his own room, now, rather than the living room. John yawned and rubbed his eyes, then stood and followed the sounds, opening Sherlock's door to find him standing next to the window, peacefully playing.

"Have you been playing all night?" He asked.

Sherlock slowed to a stop and silence filled the room, "It helped you sleep."

John stood in the doorway and pursed his lips, nodding, a pause following before he said, "Thank you."

Sherlock simply nodded, roisoning his bow to begin playing again. John interrupted before he could begin, "Sherlock?"

Sherlock didn't turn around, but paused, not yet beginning to play.

"I mean it. Thank you. I know they were celebratory, but when I woke to hear those bangs and heard people in the streets screaming--I was right back there. I was back and I thought I had to save them--"

Sherlock slowly began to play again and John's voice trailed off. Sherlock now turned and faced John. John stood near Sherlock's bed, listening to the calming music until it ended a few minutes later.

"Are you going to keep interrupting me with that?"

"Only until you stop thinking about war. It's over, Doctor Watson."

John nodded, "I know. It's just a hard thing to leave behind."

Sherlock lay his bow and violin on the end of his bed, walking toward John until he held him in his arms. John collapsed into his grasp and though he tried to keep it together, memories came back that sped his breathing so he began to pant.

"You know I hate seeing you like that," Sherlock said quietly.

John nodded against his chest, "I know."

"I'd play every night if it meant you got to sleep well again, John."

John nodded again, "I know."

Sherlock pulled away and looked at John, "My offer still stands."

John paused, but began to nod slowly, "Okay. I'll do it."

Sherlock nodded and turned to pick up his violin again.

"Sherlock?" John asked.

"Yes, John?"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, John."

That night, after John got dressed for bed, he walked halfway to his own room before he remembered the night before. He didn't want to relive the nightmares or the panic attack, so he stopped and turned, going to Sherlock's room.

Sherlock saw him enter and pulled his covers up so John could crawl underneath, then he shut them behind him, his long arm reaching over John's body.

"Sherlock?" John spoke softly.

"John," Sherlock responded.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

John turned over and tried to fall asleep, but just as he was drifting off. A loud bang and a flash of light came from outside. He sat up, already panting, panic waving through his body.

Sherlock sat up, too, taking John's arms in his hands, "John, it's not real. Relax. You're safe. You're with me. Do you want me to play again?"

John shook his head, still panting.

Sherlock racked his brain, then thought of something that would surely distract John. He quickly leaned forward and kissed him. John was stiff at first, but softened as Sherlock pulled him closer. He closed his eyes an his breathing slowed back to normal through the slow, deep kisses Sherlock placed on his lips.

Soon, the two were laying down again and as Sherlock pulled John close again, John broke the kiss.

"How do you always know how to make me feel better?" He asked, staring down at Sherlock.

"You're forgetting how long we've been together."

John paused, "I know. And I know you wanted me to move in here sooner, but I never wanted to bother you with my nightmares--"

"I knew what I was getting in to, John," Sherlock said, "Just as you did with me. It's been five years. You could never bother me enough to send me away."

"Same for me," John replied, "I love you, Sherlock."

"I love you too, John."

John then leaned back down and reconnected his lips with Sherlock's. Soon, the two relaxed in each other'other's embrace, and even though the celebrations continued outside, the two had peace and slept soundly in each other's arms.