A Study In Sleep

Chapter. 8

It had almost been fifteen minutes since John woke up. Now sat in his own chair and sipping his tea, he felt fairly awkward as he was sat opposite Sherlock and Greg had left without a word..

He didn't know exactly how to explain nor what to say. The thought of the nightmare still difficult to shake out of his head. He waited a little more swirling the last of his tea around in his cup before daring to glance up to Sherlock.
"I don't exactly know how to explain it..." he spoke quietly, his voice catching at the back of his throat before he swallowed slightly.
Sherlock sat patiently opposite him with a hand under his chin, his cup of tea in his other hand. He watched John closely, blue eyes soft only for him as he reassuringly smiled over to him.
“Take your time.” He reassured as he noticed the swallowing slightly and the awkwardness even though Sherlock didn’t feel awkward. Everything Lestrade has said was running around his mind but John’s stability and emotions was much more important currently.

"We never really did talk about when you left, did we?" John asked quietly, thinking this might've been an easier approach to the subject at hand here.
Sherlock’s face dropped at this, heart sinking a little as he placed down his mug, becoming quieter, something only John has seen.
“No.. no not really..” he hummed quietly with a sigh, the guilt overwhelming him a little.

John didn't know what to ask or even to say next again. The question that had been bugging him for the past few months or the explanation for his nightmares, either way they had to be talked about.
He sat back in his chair slightly, holding his mug for comfort as he let out a really quiet sigh, fiddling with his mug slightly. "Why did you do it?"
Sherlock glanced up at this, lips parting slightly as he guiltily gazed over to the man he loved before glancing to his lap where he held his mug.
“I.. John.. it had to be as realistic as possible. Trust me John.. I never wanted to do it.. I never wanted to leave you. Ever.” He honestly answered, voice much quieter and softer than normally.

"You said that before. You're avoiding the question." John spoke slightly bluntly, his voice low, almost a little defensive, "why did you do it?" He asked, the question, that had brewed over the years, finally coming out of his own lips.
Sherlock gazed at John with wide eyes, noticing the bluntness and the heartache in all and the detective wasn’t good with this sort of thing or hurting the people he loved.
“Because.. I thought... I’d cause you more harm if I was around. I attract danger and.. I wanted you to be happy and live a.. a normal life.. w-without me around.” He stuttered and this was the truth. He didn’t want to cause John anymore harm.

"Well it didn't.. even asked Greg or anybody else what it was like." John replied, after a moment of thinking, "Sherlock, I may never live a normal civilian life. You know I wouldn't.." He sighed slightly, placing his tea onto the coffee table.
"I've seen many men die, good men.. friends even. But none of them compared to seeing you 'dead' on the ground with no pulse.." he spoke, getting up to put his cup in the kitchen. Averting his eyes slightly,  "and if you want to know how I bloody know that.. well, let's just say after all this time I still can't get that image of you dead out of my mind.. it terrifies me, Sherlock. It really does, because..." he spoke, finding himself probably going to make matters worse with the tone he spoke in, pouring the rest of his tea down the sink. But who would care anyway? "Because you mean a lot to me and to lose you would be like losing meaning.." he added finally, speaking really quietly.

Sherlock listened to all this intently, blue eyes wide with hurt because John was hurt. He listened all the way to the end and Sherlock stood, placing his cup of tea down as he tried to reply to that.
“John.. I just wanted.. you to.. I just.. i didn’t want to hurt you.. and.. I see.. just how much I have from.. doing that...” he hummed in reply, his tone much softer than John’s as he stood there glancing to his feet now and then and then back to John, heart beating 30% faster at all this. "If you.. if you think I wanted to do this and I wanted to leave well.. I didn’t. I never wanted to leave you because... you’re.. you’re my only friend.. my best friend and.. you.. you made me and still do.. make me feel special.” He was more honest than he usually is, finding courage from somewhere.
“I’m sorry, John.” He mumbled at the end, meaning every single word of it.

John was about to reply to the detective, when he heard a woman's shoes coming up the stairs and to the living room door,
"Hello dears," Mrs Hudson's voice came from the figure stood in the door, obviously holding a tray of some sort, "oh, I hope I didn't barge in on something. Is this a bad time?" he spoke, sounding a little sheepish, looking between John and Sherlock.

"Oh no, no.. Mrs Hudson, it's fine." John voice echoed back through the kitchen as he stepped back through the sliding doors,
"I think we were finished anyway.." he mumbled, wiping something off of his hand before clearing his throat and glancing back to Sherlock then back to the landlady, "is everything okay?" He asked softly.

Sherlock stood still, holding his gaze on John and not even glancing to Mrs Hudson. He soon lowered his gaze after a moment, the man feeling extremely guilty and like some monster for causing John these nightmares and hurt. He stepped away, heading to the kitchen without another word as he sat down with his experiments, trying to distract himself but it certainly wasn’t going to work.

"Well, I suppose m'dear although I was just coming up to bring your post through.." Mrs Hudson replied, placing the tray on the table and handing the envelope to John, who gazed at it curiously in his hands.
"Uh thank you, Mrs Hudson.. is that all?" John replied, looking back up to Mrs Hudson.
"Yes, that will be it.." Mrs Hudson replied for leaving.

"Alright then.." John said moving over into the kitchen near Sherlock before placing the envelope down. Thinking as he did before, placing a hand onto Sherlock's shoulder gently, "you're special to me too.." he said really quietly in return before leaving the room and going up to his bedroom upstairs to get changed into fresher clothes.

Sherlock glanced to the hand on his shoulder, blushing a little before he watched John leave and head upstairs. He sighed a little, glancing away a moment before he stood heading into his bedroom, changing into a black blazer and trousers with a purple shirt. He soon re-emerged from his room, heading into the living room as he picked up his violin and began to play a soft, warm melody.