Just Some Johnlock Oneshots

Nightmares

Hey, so I want to add some WARNINGS to this one because there are mentions of suicidal thoughts. So if that will bother you in any way, please don't read and remember that there is always someone there to help you. It does end really fluffy, so don't worry about it being too sad.

I also didn't do too much proof reading on this one, so just let me know if you see any mistakes. :) 

It was a week after the incident at Sherrinford and both John and Sherlock were suffering from constant nightmares whenever they closed their eyes. The immense stress the day pushed onto them awakened both of their PTSD. For John it was his time in the war and Sherlock's fall, and for Sherlock it was those three years he worked to dismantle Moriarity's Web. Thankfully, Molly had taken Rosie for the night when she saw how exhausted both men looked when they visited Barts, almost like she knew tonight would be the worst night for the pair.

John and Sherlock spent the evening watching crap telly, settled in their own armchairs and sipping tea. By midnight, John couldn't keep his eyes open and decided to brave going to bed. After saying a quick goodnight to his flatmate, he stumbled up the stairs to the room he would normally be sharing with Rosie. The doctor couldn't decide if the absence of his daughter relaxed him or made him more tense. John was so used to sharing a room, first with Mary then with Rosie, that it was hard to sleep on his own. After fumbling into his pajamas, the blond flopped into his bed and fell into a restless sleep.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was pacing around the living room, trying to tire himself out even more than he already was from the week without sleep. He ran through millions of facts and deduced things about the objects around the flat in an attempt of exhausting his mind. It didn't really work. His mind kept going back to the nights he was chained up and beaten until he passed out. Sherlock only survived by glancing at the small picture of John he kept tucked in the waistband of his trousers whenever he got the opportunity. Just seeing the face of the man he loved so much gave him the strength to go on. He did it all for him after all.

After giving up around 1 am, Sherlock forced himself to get cleaned up for bed in hopes to get a few hours of sleep. Just as he was about to pull back the many covers of his warm bed, Sherlock heard John's scream from upstairs. The detective sprinted up the stairs, banging his elbow on the narrow hallway wall.

"John!" He called as soon as he reached the top of the stairs.

"Sherlock," John fearfully screamed back. Sherlock quickly entered John's room and pulled the trembling man in his arms.

"Shh, shh you're alright." The tall man whispered against John's graying hair. His blogger clung to his gray cotton nightshirt and buried his head into Sherlock's boney shoulder while letting out violent sobs.

"Oh John," Sherlock sighed. "You're here, you're safe. I'll always take care of you, I promised." He murmured as he pressed a soft kiss to John's hair. After a few minutes, John's sobs subsided and he wiped his tear stained cheeks.

"Why is it so hard to live?" John asked, his voice thick with tears and emotions.

"I'm sorry, love," the detective whispered without thinking. He brought his forehead down to meet John's tanned and slightly wrinkled one.

"Sometimes I think it would be so much easier to just end it all. Living hurts too much." John began to cry again, although this time his tears slid silently down his cheeks.

"I know, I know," Sherlock whispered while choking back his own tears.

"There were so many nights during those three years that I would just sit in your leather armchair, a gun resting on the coffee table, wondering if it was worth it to go on. To go on without you in my life." John pulled his head back lightly and brought his watery grey eyes to Sherlock's. "Don't you ever leave me again," he whispered in a trembling voice.

"I won't, I promise." He assured John before pressing a kiss to his temple. "I love you," Sherlock whispered against John's skin.

"I love you, too," John sighed and wrapped his arms firmly around his detective's neck. "I love you so much."

Their lips met in a gentle but sort of sloppy kiss, as they were both exhausted and overridden with emotion.

"I love you, John," Sherlock murmured against the other man's thin lips.

"I love you, Sherlock."

After another brief kiss, the men laid down with not an inch between them. Sherlock cradled John in his arms and the shorter man soon drifted off listening to the steady heartbeat of the man he loved for so long. Sherlock soon followed after, watching his new lover's breaths deepen and become rhythmic.

When either man would jerk awake from a horrible dream, the other would stroke their hair and whisper how much they loved him until they both fell back to sleep. For the first time in a week, both Sherlock and John got more than three hours of sleep. 

... 

The following nights were peaceful for the pair, for they wordlessly decided to sleep curled up in each other's arms. And if one was awoken by a nightmare, the other would comfort them back to sleep, just like they had the first night.