A Study In Sleep

Chapter. 1

"No, it can't be not again.." John muttered.

Every night, it was the same. No different or no less than the memory itself, but instead contorting itself in different ways to torture the blogger, making him wake up in a cold sweat. Burning the image into the back of the army doctor's mind and always finding a way to come back.

The image was clear. Very clear, indeed. Sherlock dead. Stone cold, laid on the ground. The light behind his eyes gone and blood everywhere. And all over his face and hair, causing the strands of hair to be all matted and the pavement to be stained red. The lifeless body of his best friend, laid on the ground.

John jolted awake, sitting up, his breathing ragged and sweat trickling down his forehead. He shook his head, attempting to compose himself. Sighing, as he rubbed his face before sitting on the edge of the couch and getting up and going into the kitchen. Only hoping he hadn't awoken the sleeping detective.

The detective, as always was the deepest sleeper known to man. His light snore filling the room, sprawled over the other side of the couch. However, even in sleep he noticed the shift in warmth beside him and the sudden movements, causing Sherlock to wake form his slumber as he sleepily gazed around, curls a mess. He caught the back of John moving to the kitchen, immediately noticing his state as he got to his feet, following him to the kitchen.
"John? What happened?" He straight away got to the point, wanting to know what was wrong with his best friend as he came to stand a few moments behind him with a small yawn.
"It's alright, Sherlock.. just go back to sleep.." the blogger replied, mentally kicking himself for allowing himself to accidentally fall asleep on the sofa next to Sherlock, "it was nothing.." he added, mostly for his own thoughts besides Sherlock's. He kept his back almost to the detective as he decided to fill the kettle under the cold tap.

It was strange how John thought he could lie to Sherlock after all this time. It was easy to tell when he was lying and the detective was certainly not letting this lie slip from under his nose.

"If you think I am going to fall for that then you don't know me at all." The detective stated before re-thinking and taking a step closer. It was at this moment that he had realised that he had fallen asleep beside the blogger- whilst thru had been watching another episode of Vera- the TV now turned off, presumably by the landlady herself. It didn't bother him to know they had fallen asleep together but, in fact, rather comforting.

"John.. I won't rest until you tell me. Either way I will pluck it out of you." He tried to be light and jokey, seeing how affected he was. It pained him, though Sherlock had no idea with these types of things, though, at least he tried.
"Pluck?" John asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked back at the curious detective, attempting to change subject. "I am not some type of bird, Sherlock.." he spoke before switching the kettle on, and putting two mugs out onto the side.
Sherlock blinked innocently at this before the slightest pink hit his cheeks, blushing ever so softly.
"I don't know.. I was just trying.. I was just.. doesn't matter." He sighed as he turned, heading back into the living room, flopping down into his chair.

John sighed in unison to Sherlock, continuing to make the hot beverages before bringing them over. Thinking to himself as he did, he felt bad for not telling Sherlock and answering the way he did. He passed one of the drinks to the detective before taking a seat in his own chair opposite the detective's.
"I'm sorry, Sherlock.. I wasn't meaning to sound rude when I said that.." he apologized, looking down to his cup of tea before taking a sip.

Sherlock smiled shortly as a thank you as John handed him a tea, immediately taking a sip from it, glancing to him as he apologised, admiring him silently for a long moment though his facial expression was just the same.
"It's fine." He softly hummed as he gazed over to the man before glancing away and took a sip from his tea once again, always liking it when John made his tea- he always made it perfectly.

The silence lingered between them for quite some time, apart from the occasional sound of a car passing or the occasional sip of tea.
John found it difficult to look up to the detective, "Maybe we should get to our normal beds.. try to catch some sleep.." he offered clearing his throat slightly. He still couldn't shake the image from his nightmare away.

Sherlock was surprised by this, eyes saddening a little as he gazed to the blogger opposite him. He knew he had a nightmare but he didn't want to push him or bring back memories. The detective nodded a little, lowering his cup.
"I know it was a nightmare. It's normal, even happens to me sometimes. Just.. um.. wake me if you have another one.." he offered quietly, the slight pink tint to his cheeks returning.

The doctor looked up to Sherlock slightly.

He knew that it was a nightmare?

Of course he knew it was, he's bloody Sherlock Holmes.

Feeling a little unsure of what to say he gave a little reassuring smile before getting up,
"Thanks" he said softly before taking a step closer, noticing the pink on the brunettes cheeks, "would you like me to take your cup for you?" He asked, looking to Sherlock's cup and offering his hand out to take it as he held his own, in his other hand.

Sherlock watched closely as John stepped closer, gazing up to him from his chair. He frowned a little as John asked this before glancing to his cup to notice he had drank it all without even realising. He slowly handed his cup to John, fingers brushing slightly to which Sherlock tried to ignore as he sat in his chair, gazing up to John with a blank expression, even if the slight pink tint to his cheeks was obvious.
"Sleep well, John." He hummed deeply, and he meant every word.

John's own cheeks caught a little fire, turning pink when he felt their hands touch. He couldn't help it, so instead gave a another little smile and nodded.
"You too, Sherlock.." he spoke softly, before heading into the kitchen and pouring his tea down the drain before placing both cups on the side, "night, Sherlock.." he said, glancing to the detective before making his way up the stairs, to his own bedroom.

Sherlock immediately noticing the hint of colour on John's cheeks though it didn't register why his cheeks were that colour. He watched from his chair as the army doctor headed to the kitchen before towards the stairs.
"Goodnight, John." He hummed back before letting John go. He sat in his chair silently a moment, thinking to himself why he was such a.. mess around the blogger. It was strange and Sherlock couldn't process why though he certainly knew he wanted to help John with his nightmares as they are not nice, not at any age. After 6 minutes, knowing it would take John this quick to fall asleep he silently got to his feet and walking to his room, closing the door as he laid under the sheets, sighing before managing to drift to sleep.

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Just a reminder, this is a piece inspired by a roleplay with someone (so credits to them too!)