Not Bored Anymore

This Is... Different

Hello everyone!! If you haven't already, check out my other stories, Connections (loki x reader) and Awkward (peter parker x reader). This will be my first Sherlock fanfiction, but after seeing a lot of inspiring comics and posts, I swear if I don't write a Johnlock fanfiction then I no longer have a place in this world. ENJOY!!

-Wholigan13

Sherlock

The roof. Always the roof. My feet were along the edge of the roof, and I threatened to fall over. Civilians passed on the streets below, unaware of what was unfolding. But I knew. I've known for a long time. My breath shuddered, a puff of steam billowing out of my mouth. I felt a single tear roll down my face, and I tipped my feet over the edge. Before I could fall, a hand grabbed the collar of my coat. I looked behind me, and saw his face. His despicable sneer.

"Nuh-uh-uh!" Moriarty said, wiggling his finger. "Too late, pretty boy. Too late to save him." He grinned ear to ear, freezing my soul. I looked back down at the street, and there he was, lying in a pool of blood. John. I was suddenly on the street next to him, sobbing. I held his head in my lap, tears spilling on his cold face.

"No, John. C-come back," I cried. I screamed and wailed, but nothing was going to bring him back. He was gone, and I could've saved him. I could've saved him....

I yelled, sitting straight up in my bed. Sweat covered my brow, my face wet from tears. I was breathing heavily, my chest rising up high and sinking lower.

"Sherlock?" a voice said. I looked at the open door frame, and saw a familiar silhouette. John walked over, and sat on the edge of my bed. I tried to regain my composure, hiding behind my usual expressionless mask. I knew John could see right through it, and he patted on the spot next to him. I rolled my eyes, sulking my head as I sat down next to him.

"Is it the same dream?" he asked. He knew what the answer was, but he wanted to hear me say it. I sighed, a single tear streaking down my already wet face. 

"Yes, it was, John. It always is." Silence. Then John looked at me, and I looked back to him. His blue eyes were dark with concern, like a storm. 

"You know I'm not going anywhere, right?" he asked. "I'm not leaving."  He looked into my eyes, searching for something. Finally, I couldn't hold the tears back anymore. I cupped my face into my hands, my breathing ragged. I felt John slide over next to me, and wrapped me in a hug. I cried into his shirt, my tears darkening the fabric.

"Y-you don't k-know that, John. Y-you can't know the f-future," I sniffled. I looked up at him, and realized that I was practically sitting in his lap. A slight blush crept onto his face, but was soon clouded over with his concern for my well being.

"As far as I know, I'm not making any plans," he said, chuckling. I smiled a little, a side of me that only John has seen. I snuggled my face into his shoulder, breathing deeply. John placed a hand on my head, smoothing out the curls. I gasped at the contact, but soon accepted it. He was simply trying to be comforting.

John

I knew what Sherlock was going through. When I was at war, I often had my own nightmares, mostly of some of my close friends dying right in front of me. I was a doctor, but not even the best could've saved them all. 

But here, sitting with Sherlock, I couldn't even describe what I was feeling. Concern for my friend? Concerned for Sherlock Holmes. Ha! Not many people can say they've felt that. Not even Mycroft. But this... I can't even find the right words.

Sherlock just felt so small right now, curled up in my lap. I ran my hand through his unruly curls, and I felt him shudder. I smiled, happy that he had stopped crying. It was highly unusual for him to show any emotion, but recently I was seeing a lot more of his humane side. He never showed much emotion when we were on a case, especially in front of Greg or Molly. And definitely not around Donovan or Anderson. Not in a million years. And Sherlock had managed to stay clean for the past three weeks, which was better for everyone, trust me.

When Sherlock's breathing resumed a more steady rhythm, I pulled away. Sherlock finally released his grip on my shirt, and sat up straight, his legs crossed on the bed. I could see a faint redness on his cheeks, but it was hard to tell in the dark.

"I'm going to go to bed now, Sherlock," I said, standing up. He nodded, not meeting my eyes. Had I done something wrong? I rubbed the back of my neck and made my way towards the door.

"John?" Sherlock asked, and I turned around.

"Yes, Sherlock?" He stood up and walked over to me. His purple shirt was untucked, hanging loosely around his skinny torso, and he was wearing his work pants. I knew Sherlock went to bed in his work clothes, but even then I thought it was a bit odd. But it is Sherlock I was talking about. His raven black hair hung over his eyes, and he pushed it out of the way. He finally look at my eyes, and I looked up into his. His green-blue eyes were so captivating, and so vivid and alive. He walked closer to me until I had to crane my neck all the way up. He placed his arm on the door behind me, and was just looking down at me. 

"Thank you. For... just being there," he said, his normal baritone voice sending shivers up my spine.

"Not a problem, Sherlock," I said, practically a whisper. I realized how close his body was to mine, but I couldn't tell if Sherlock knew how uncomfortable this was for me, or if he just wasn't thinking. His chest was practically a few millimeters away from mine.

"Goodnight," I said, escaping out the door. I slipped away into my room, and shut the door behind me. What the bloody hell was happening?

Sherlock

Bloody hell, pull yourself together! I thought to myself, mentally scolding myself for what I had just done. What had I just done? I remember the look on John's face, his cheeks had been red. I steepled my hands under my chin, and closed my eyes. I tried to remember the event through a omniscient view. I had had my arm next to John's head, and he had been pinned against the door. He was blushing, and had to look up at me because of the height difference. Did this mean?... No, no way. Not possible. He must've just been uncomfortable in the situation. I just had to make sure to not do anything like that again.

I prepared for bed, pulling the covers back over me. I sighed. The blinds on my window were open, and I fell asleep looking out towards the city streets below.