Sherlock BBC One-Shots (2019+)

The Elephant in the Room

(Yes, big references to a lot of things, including TJLC *cough*Rebekah*cough*)

John's PoV
After spending half an hour working up the courage, I finally crept my way downstairs and wandered down the hallway to Sherlock's bedroom. Anxious, I knocked on the slightly open door, nervously stumbling over my words while explaining myself.
"Sh.. Sherlock, I am.. So sorry to bother you, but I-"
"Had a bad dream and are seeking my comfort, no doubt after some countless failed attempts to leave before you succeeded. Sit down." Sherlock didn't even look at me. I gently padded my way further into his room after shutting the door and sat down cautiously on his bed.
"I forgot you can read people. "
"I don't read, John, I observe."
"Oh right, yeah..."

He sensed my sarcasm and rolled his eyes, getting up in that flamboyant way he does and placing his laptop and paperwork on top of the box labelled, 'Fun Stuff'. I've always wondered what's in the bottom of that box.

"The bed isn't rigged with explosives, you know." He smirked at me. I stared at him, both angry and humoured by what he'd just said.
"It's you, Sherlock; anything's possible."
"I wouldn't let you come near the room if it were such a case." He stated casually, still wandering around his room and tidying things away.
"No different from normal life anyway." I scoffed.
"Normal.." He iterated.
"Yeah... Normal."

He remained silent after that. Did he think I had still failed to adjust to the mad lifestyle he and I share? Or did I not respond as he expected? Or a logical explanation would be that he was tired considering it was two in the morning.

"Are you staying with me tonight?" He asked after what felt like hours of silence besides the occasional grunt or shuffling of books, clothes and boxes. As you would be when your best friend asks you to stay with him and share the bed with him, I was very confused.
"Since when did you-"
"Since you started having nightmares again and we don't know why. So bad, in fact, that you come to me for help after spending years of your life trying to ignore your need for... Comfort."

Why did he look at me like that when he paused?

"W- Well, I mean.. Sure? Why not? If you don't mind..?"

I thought I'd regret it.

"Why would I mind? I'm only helping you out. Why else would you be here? Unless there's a catch- Wait, is there a catch?"

"There's no catch, Sherlock."

"Okay, good."

I didn't regret anything.

Sherlock's PoV
He was finally drifting off, but it still didn't work. Something else must have happened to his brain. He woke up screaming not long after he fell asleep. He was frightened enough to punch me, considering his instincts saw me as a threat.

He apologised profoundly and tried to focus on me more than himself, but I refused to let him.

We ended up cuddling, cradle style. He put a series on in the background, but we didn't really pay attention. It was some wildlife documentary about elephants or something.

Not so long after I took him in my arms, he was crying into my shoulder. Unless there was something else going on, which there most likely wasn't, his nightmares had changed for the worse all of a sudden. Although questioning him would have given us a result, it's the last thing he needed, so I decided against it.

"I don't... Want to live." He sighed through his tears. He was a trainwreck.
"Yes you do." I stated, tightening my hold on his body.
"No, I really don't."
"You do."
"Sherlock, you don't get what I me-"
"Do you want me to live?"
"Of course!"
"Then you shall remain alive."

John' PoV
What does that mean?
Why did he say that?
Does that mean if I die, he dies?
Is that a rule?
Is it Moriarty's rule or something?
Or does it mean something else?
If I died...
Would he commit suicide?

The next morning I woke up to Sherlock opening the curtains of his bedroom and smiling at me.
"Sleep well?"
"In the end, yeah. I ended up dreaming about those elephants instead of.. Death."
Sherlock chuckled, more to himself than openly.
"What?"
"Elephants.. They're just... Funny."
"Wh-"
"Hungry?"

I glared at him.
"Don't even think about cooking." I groaned.
"Why not?"
"You know exactly why."
"Ugh, okay fine. Eat out then?"
"Sure, whatever."

Sherlock left his room to do.. God knows what. He left me with a tablet and a
the aftertaste of a dream about elephants.

"Say, Sherlock... Why exactly did you laugh about the elephants?" I called out to him.
"Not now, John. I'm busy."

He was busy.
...
Maybe that's why he laughed?