01: Comfort
Title: Comfort
Author: phoenix_zeal
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Fluff, Angst
Disclaimer: I do not make any profit from this.
Beta: Me, Myself and I
Word count: 1353
Summary: This dream isn’t like the usual ones. John is usually less stupid, more eloquent. Or he just screams while he watches Sherlock fall over and over again.
Warnings: Spoilers for series 2.
Notes: Also available on AO3.
The room is dark, only a little light finding its way through a crack in the blinds. John sits up with a start, groggy and not quite awake. In fact, he might still be asleep. When he spots the tall man standing in the door opening he’s certain that he’s dreaming. The dull ache in his chest never goes away but now it’s more pronounced.
“Sherlock,” the name falls from his lips, barely more than a strained whisper. “Is this a dream?”
“Of course it is, John.” Sherlock sounds just like he always used to when John asked him something he deemed to be completely obvious. This time it’s obvious for the both of them.
“Right, yeah. How have you been?”
Sherlock doesn’t even bother to answer that question because they know how he’s been. Dead and buried six feet under. This dream isn’t like the usual ones. John is usually less stupid, more eloquent. Or he just screams while he watches Sherlock fall over and over again. It’s never like this and that makes this dream feel more real than the others.
Sherlock moves closer to John’s bed. He’s a bit gaunter, pale and the expression in his eyes hits John like a punch to the gut. Perhaps it’s only the dark playing tricks on John’s mind - with a bit more illumination the sadness would be gone. Sherlock doesn’t do sad, not in John’s bedroom in a dream. Actually, he’s never been in John’s bedroom in a dream before.
John has had sex dreams about the strangest people, it just happens and he can’t control it, but if he could he’d probably make this into a sex dream right now. Not because he wants to have sex with Sherlock, but because he can’t stand seeing how sad Sherlock looks.
“You aren’t speaking,” Sherlock says and John has a sudden urge to giggle.
“Astute observation. You aren’t nearly as brilliant in my dreams as you were in real life. Shame really, I suppose my brain isn’t up to be genius just so I can have you back for a few minutes.”
“John.” Sherlock kneels on the bed next to John who can feel the bed dip a bit and it’s too realistic.
Of course he’s thought that Mycroft being a kangaroo was realistic, and then he’d woken up to marvel at how strange dreams can be.
“Sherlock, I’m not sure I want you to be in my bed,” John says and Sherlock frowns. “You’re one of the few people I haven’t had a sex dream about. Although it’d comfort me at the moment, I’d probably feel like crap when I wake up.”
“Why?”
“Because what we had was never sexual and I don’t want to sully that. You’re brilliant and I-I love you and maybe sometimes I looked at you and thought, ‘wow, he’s gorgeous’, but then I’d quickly deny ever having such a thought. Perhaps we really were a couple like everyone assumed but it wasn’t about sex.”
“You don’t want to have sex with me even when you have an opportunity to?” Sherlock asks and John thinks that he sounds almost offended.
“I am heterosexual, you know. But it was something Irene Adler said and I couldn’t figure it out until it was too late. Sex isn’t necessary. Just because I’m not sexually attracted to you it doesn’t mean that I can’t be mentally attracted. You made me feel alive like no one else could. I think you’re the one for me, Sherlock, even though you’d laugh at me if I’d ever told you.”
“I wouldn’t laugh,” Sherlock says after a moment of silence. “Sneered perhaps, or said something rude, but I wouldn’t have laughed.”
“Thanks, that makes me feel so much better,” John says wryly but the corner of his mouth twitches.
“Will it make you feel better if I say that now I think I understand what you mean?” Sherlock uses his hands to drag himself closer to John, crowding him against the headboard.
“Great, this will turn into a sex dream after all, won’t it?”
Sherlock chuckles, “Not likely. I always found relationships tedious and I have never made any effort to enter one. Sex doesn’t alarm me, nor do I have any kind of interest in such activities. However, since I have been away from you for quite some time now, I find myself wishing that I could be close to you. There’s nothing sexual about it but I always did find physical proximity with you to be, in lack of a better word, desirable.”
“How much physical proximity would you like now?” John asks, licking his lips.
“As much as you are willing to give, without entering the realm of wet dreams.”
“Right, perhaps you should wear a bit less clothes. I mean, you look great in that coat but the realism will be gone if we snuggle underneath the comforter and you don’t overheat.”
Sherlock raises an eyebrow but slides off the bed, stripping down to his pants. John notices that he can see Sherlock’s ribs and then Sherlock is under the comforter. It’s a bit awkward at first as they lie down next to each other, not quite knowing where to place their arms and legs. Finally they’ve struggled into a comfortable position, one of John’s hands resting on Sherlock’s chest, feeling his heartbeat. John feels sleepy and his eyes try to close but he forces them to stay open. He doesn’t want this dream to end.
“This isn’t tedious,” Sherlock says as his gaze intently searches John’s face.
“I’m glad,” John says and stifles a yawn.
“You should sleep.”
“I already am asleep.”
“Sometimes dreams can be exhausting.”
“This is the least exhausting dream I’ve had since you died.”
Suddenly there are tears in John’s eyes and Sherlock’s hold on him tightens. Hesitantly - John can’t remember Sherlock being so hesitant about anything before - Sherlock presses his lips against John’s. At first John is too stunned to do anything. Then he quickly takes the lead as it’s quite obvious that Sherlock hasn’t done anything like this before. It’s just a soft slide of lips against lips because John doesn’t want to alarm Sherlock.
They kiss for a long time and Sherlock is a fast learner, like he always is when something really catches his interest. John is proud that he’s the one to capture the interest of a genius, even if just in a dream. He does the best that he can to stay alert but the kisses are comforting and relaxing.
“Sleep,” Sherlock says, running his fingers through John’s hair which has grown longer - he doesn’t feel like bothering to go to a hairdresser.
“Don’t want to,” John mumbles but he can’t open his eyes and he knows that the dream is about to end. “Love you.” He slips into a dreamless sleep.
Sherlock doesn’t bother with answering because he can tell that John is already asleep. It hadn’t been in his plan that John would wake up; he hadn’t even planned to enter the flat. He had missed John but it was inexcusable to risk his entire plan just to watch him sleep. What kind of sentimental stalker had he turned into?
He thinks about the drivel with a sparkling vampire John had forced him to suffer through, as payback for an experiment gone wrong, and shudders. He’d spent the entire film - or the part of it they’d managed to watch before not being able to stand any more of it - insulting everyone and everything in it, making John laugh. It had actually been a bit nice, which was why he hadn’t deleted the event entirely. Not that he’d ever admit to such a thing.
John’s embrace loosens and makes it easier for Sherlock to slip away without waking him. Taking one last look at the sleeping man after quietly getting dressed, Sherlock leaves the flat. He doesn’t do sentiment or relationships. When he comes back after taking care of the spider web Moriarty left behind, it will be easy enough to let John continue thinking that tonight had been a dream.
---
A/N: A few things: 1) I am decidedly not British and have previously not given a damn if I mix British with Americanisms, I tried my best not to this time. 2) I wrote this during 30 minutes yesterday when I was supposed to read. 3) I have no idea why I decided that they have at some point watched (part of) Twilight together. This is terribly OOC. 4) This is the first real finished fic I've ever written that is not JE related. 5) This is the first time in forever I've written something in present tense.
I was convinced to post this though I wasn't certain whether I should or not. ._.
Author: phoenix_zeal
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Fluff, Angst
Disclaimer: I do not make any profit from this.
Beta: Me, Myself and I
Word count: 1353
Summary: This dream isn’t like the usual ones. John is usually less stupid, more eloquent. Or he just screams while he watches Sherlock fall over and over again.
Warnings: Spoilers for series 2.
Notes: Also available on AO3.
The room is dark, only a little light finding its way through a crack in the blinds. John sits up with a start, groggy and not quite awake. In fact, he might still be asleep. When he spots the tall man standing in the door opening he’s certain that he’s dreaming. The dull ache in his chest never goes away but now it’s more pronounced.
“Sherlock,” the name falls from his lips, barely more than a strained whisper. “Is this a dream?”
“Of course it is, John.” Sherlock sounds just like he always used to when John asked him something he deemed to be completely obvious. This time it’s obvious for the both of them.
“Right, yeah. How have you been?”
Sherlock doesn’t even bother to answer that question because they know how he’s been. Dead and buried six feet under. This dream isn’t like the usual ones. John is usually less stupid, more eloquent. Or he just screams while he watches Sherlock fall over and over again. It’s never like this and that makes this dream feel more real than the others.
Sherlock moves closer to John’s bed. He’s a bit gaunter, pale and the expression in his eyes hits John like a punch to the gut. Perhaps it’s only the dark playing tricks on John’s mind - with a bit more illumination the sadness would be gone. Sherlock doesn’t do sad, not in John’s bedroom in a dream. Actually, he’s never been in John’s bedroom in a dream before.
John has had sex dreams about the strangest people, it just happens and he can’t control it, but if he could he’d probably make this into a sex dream right now. Not because he wants to have sex with Sherlock, but because he can’t stand seeing how sad Sherlock looks.
“You aren’t speaking,” Sherlock says and John has a sudden urge to giggle.
“Astute observation. You aren’t nearly as brilliant in my dreams as you were in real life. Shame really, I suppose my brain isn’t up to be genius just so I can have you back for a few minutes.”
“John.” Sherlock kneels on the bed next to John who can feel the bed dip a bit and it’s too realistic.
Of course he’s thought that Mycroft being a kangaroo was realistic, and then he’d woken up to marvel at how strange dreams can be.
“Sherlock, I’m not sure I want you to be in my bed,” John says and Sherlock frowns. “You’re one of the few people I haven’t had a sex dream about. Although it’d comfort me at the moment, I’d probably feel like crap when I wake up.”
“Why?”
“Because what we had was never sexual and I don’t want to sully that. You’re brilliant and I-I love you and maybe sometimes I looked at you and thought, ‘wow, he’s gorgeous’, but then I’d quickly deny ever having such a thought. Perhaps we really were a couple like everyone assumed but it wasn’t about sex.”
“You don’t want to have sex with me even when you have an opportunity to?” Sherlock asks and John thinks that he sounds almost offended.
“I am heterosexual, you know. But it was something Irene Adler said and I couldn’t figure it out until it was too late. Sex isn’t necessary. Just because I’m not sexually attracted to you it doesn’t mean that I can’t be mentally attracted. You made me feel alive like no one else could. I think you’re the one for me, Sherlock, even though you’d laugh at me if I’d ever told you.”
“I wouldn’t laugh,” Sherlock says after a moment of silence. “Sneered perhaps, or said something rude, but I wouldn’t have laughed.”
“Thanks, that makes me feel so much better,” John says wryly but the corner of his mouth twitches.
“Will it make you feel better if I say that now I think I understand what you mean?” Sherlock uses his hands to drag himself closer to John, crowding him against the headboard.
“Great, this will turn into a sex dream after all, won’t it?”
Sherlock chuckles, “Not likely. I always found relationships tedious and I have never made any effort to enter one. Sex doesn’t alarm me, nor do I have any kind of interest in such activities. However, since I have been away from you for quite some time now, I find myself wishing that I could be close to you. There’s nothing sexual about it but I always did find physical proximity with you to be, in lack of a better word, desirable.”
“How much physical proximity would you like now?” John asks, licking his lips.
“As much as you are willing to give, without entering the realm of wet dreams.”
“Right, perhaps you should wear a bit less clothes. I mean, you look great in that coat but the realism will be gone if we snuggle underneath the comforter and you don’t overheat.”
Sherlock raises an eyebrow but slides off the bed, stripping down to his pants. John notices that he can see Sherlock’s ribs and then Sherlock is under the comforter. It’s a bit awkward at first as they lie down next to each other, not quite knowing where to place their arms and legs. Finally they’ve struggled into a comfortable position, one of John’s hands resting on Sherlock’s chest, feeling his heartbeat. John feels sleepy and his eyes try to close but he forces them to stay open. He doesn’t want this dream to end.
“This isn’t tedious,” Sherlock says as his gaze intently searches John’s face.
“I’m glad,” John says and stifles a yawn.
“You should sleep.”
“I already am asleep.”
“Sometimes dreams can be exhausting.”
“This is the least exhausting dream I’ve had since you died.”
Suddenly there are tears in John’s eyes and Sherlock’s hold on him tightens. Hesitantly - John can’t remember Sherlock being so hesitant about anything before - Sherlock presses his lips against John’s. At first John is too stunned to do anything. Then he quickly takes the lead as it’s quite obvious that Sherlock hasn’t done anything like this before. It’s just a soft slide of lips against lips because John doesn’t want to alarm Sherlock.
They kiss for a long time and Sherlock is a fast learner, like he always is when something really catches his interest. John is proud that he’s the one to capture the interest of a genius, even if just in a dream. He does the best that he can to stay alert but the kisses are comforting and relaxing.
“Sleep,” Sherlock says, running his fingers through John’s hair which has grown longer - he doesn’t feel like bothering to go to a hairdresser.
“Don’t want to,” John mumbles but he can’t open his eyes and he knows that the dream is about to end. “Love you.” He slips into a dreamless sleep.
Sherlock doesn’t bother with answering because he can tell that John is already asleep. It hadn’t been in his plan that John would wake up; he hadn’t even planned to enter the flat. He had missed John but it was inexcusable to risk his entire plan just to watch him sleep. What kind of sentimental stalker had he turned into?
He thinks about the drivel with a sparkling vampire John had forced him to suffer through, as payback for an experiment gone wrong, and shudders. He’d spent the entire film - or the part of it they’d managed to watch before not being able to stand any more of it - insulting everyone and everything in it, making John laugh. It had actually been a bit nice, which was why he hadn’t deleted the event entirely. Not that he’d ever admit to such a thing.
John’s embrace loosens and makes it easier for Sherlock to slip away without waking him. Taking one last look at the sleeping man after quietly getting dressed, Sherlock leaves the flat. He doesn’t do sentiment or relationships. When he comes back after taking care of the spider web Moriarty left behind, it will be easy enough to let John continue thinking that tonight had been a dream.
---
A/N: A few things: 1) I am decidedly not British and have previously not given a damn if I mix British with Americanisms, I tried my best not to this time. 2) I wrote this during 30 minutes yesterday when I was supposed to read. 3) I have no idea why I decided that they have at some point watched (part of) Twilight together. This is terribly OOC. 4) This is the first real finished fic I've ever written that is not JE related. 5) This is the first time in forever I've written something in present tense.
I was convinced to post this though I wasn't certain whether I should or not. ._.