Tell me this night is over
Notes: Last part…. Not much to say really, but I am quite happy about how it turned out (and that I got it done before Monday so I can focus on the right things tomorrow). The title is from the song with the same name by The Ark.
Find all parts here.
Summary: Sherlock wakes John from a nightmare, in more than a literal way.
***
John panted with his eyes closed, sitting in his bed, covered in cold sweat and instinctively rubbing his scar. It had been weeks since his last nightmare, he had almost forgotten the panic and the anxiety that came with it; and the relief when reality seeped back and he realised he was in London.
“Thank you,” he mumbled and searched for Sherlock with his hand. He found the detective’s knee and let the body heat speed up the process of finding his way back to reality as Sherlock took his hand. Well, reality and reality, in what kind of reality did Sherlock wake him from nightmares? That had happened exactly zero times before.
Sherlock had turned on the bedside lamp at some point and John had to blink and rub his eyes before he was able to focus on him where he sat next to him on the bed. It took yet another moment before he realised that Sherlock’s robe was open over his pyjama bottoms. John couldn’t help that he stared at the exposed, pale skin. He had never seen Sherlock without a shirt and most of his waken hours were spent wondering about the state of his friend’s body.
Of course Sherlock noticed and he was very quick to let go of John’s hand to cover himself properly. With a sigh John rested his forehead against Sherlock’s shoulder and moved his hand to Sherlock’s stomach.
“I don’t like when you do that,” Sherlock murmured, but didn’t pull away. Hardly even tensed up.
“Well, I’m not so keen about some things you do either,” John said without raising his head and instead of removing his hand he stroked Sherlock with his thumb, “So you just have to live with this.”
Sherlock rested his head against John’s and John could feel him trying to breathe through the uncomfortable feeling of having John’s hand on his belly. John had no intention to take it away or to stop moving his thumb and finally Sherlock’s whole body relaxed as their breaths synchronised. An incredible calm filled John, the last tension from the nightmare disappeared and he sighed.
“Do you want some tea?” Sherlock whispered and John couldn’t help that he chuckled.
“That would be nice.”
“I’ll be back,” Sherlock said and almost jumped off the bed. Confused, John looked after him. Was Sherlock going to bring him tea in bed? This was officially a parallel universe now. Or maybe he was still dreaming? If so, he really didn’t want to wake up before he saw the result of this.
Sherlock had left the door to his bedroom open so John could hear everything that happened in the kitchen. This was really happening! He could hear Sherlock poking around in the pantry, getting the mug (mugs? Hard to say) ready, pouring water…. It was fascinating, and soon enough Sherlock appeared in the doorway again with a tea mug in one hand and a box of crackers in the other.
“Why do we only have teas that smell like female perfume?” Sherlock wondered with a disapproving frown as he handed John the mug and sat down on the bed; strategically out of reach for John.
“Because I like them and you never do the shopping,” John answered with a smirk, trying to ignore that Sherlock was keeping a distance between them.
The explanation didn’t seem quite satisfying to Sherlock, but instead of pushing the question he opened the box of crackers and took one before offering the box to John.
“You’re not eating crackers in my bed,” John told him and blew on the tea.
“It appears I am,” Sherlock answered and took another cracker when John didn’t take the box.
“Give me a cracker,” John asked and as soon as he got one, he threw it at Sherlock who - to John’s delight - smirked but didn’t throw any crackers back. John smirked too and inhaled the scent of the tea; he had never thought about it before but Sherlock was right, it actually smelled like perfume.
It was a strange and novel feeling to sit with Sherlock in bed, drinking tea and eating crackers at 4 o’clock in the morning but John realised he liked it. Somehow it felt very natural and never had the demons from a nightmare been so easy to keep at bay.
“You’re feeling better, aren’t you?” John broke the silence to confirm what he had been thinking about for some weeks now.
“Yes,” Sherlock said with a confidence he had been lacking for so long. It was wonderful to hear.
“Good,” John nodded, his relief probably very clear in both his voice and his face. It was mirrored in Sherlock’s eyes and John put away his mug to be able to lean forward and hug Sherlock.
“John.”
John could almost hear Sherlock rolling his eyes.
“Don’t ‘John’ me,” he said and then lowered his voice to not much more than a whisper, “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you,” Sherlock whispered back into John’s neck and John couldn’t help to hug him even closer. “For everything.”
John wasn’t sure what to answer, hadn’t he been the one making everything so messy this time? Hadn’t he made ever thing worse? The sincerity was liberating though and there were no traces of blame in Sherlock’s voice.
“I love you, Sherlock,” John told him since nothing else seemed to fit and then he slowly let go of his friend, “But let’s not do this again for a while, okay?”
“Okay,” Sherlock said with a slight blush and a weak smile as if he wasn’t sure he could promise something like that. John had faith though and if it would happen again, at least he would be better prepared to deal with it. Hopefully making it better.
“I still want you to tell me if something happens,” John said and reached for his tea mug again, “Promise me?”
“That haven’t worked out so well in the past,” Sherlock said, sounding and looking a bit guilty, “And I don’t want to disappoint you if I can’t keep it.”
Well, at least he was honest and John appreciated that; it would have been nice to have got the promise though. In the end it didn’t matter John realised, his feelings were the same either way; stupid and naive as they might be.
“I trust you,” he said, feeling genuinely glad to be able to say it and mean it again. Sherlock looked moved and stunned for a moment, but then he smirked and shook his head.
“Idiot.”
***
End notes:
I just want to thank everyone who has read this and everyone who has commented throughout the writing process and shared tears with me. It means the world to me. Thank you.
***
There is a second cycle of this.
Find all parts here.
Summary: Sherlock wakes John from a nightmare, in more than a literal way.
***
John panted with his eyes closed, sitting in his bed, covered in cold sweat and instinctively rubbing his scar. It had been weeks since his last nightmare, he had almost forgotten the panic and the anxiety that came with it; and the relief when reality seeped back and he realised he was in London.
“Thank you,” he mumbled and searched for Sherlock with his hand. He found the detective’s knee and let the body heat speed up the process of finding his way back to reality as Sherlock took his hand. Well, reality and reality, in what kind of reality did Sherlock wake him from nightmares? That had happened exactly zero times before.
Sherlock had turned on the bedside lamp at some point and John had to blink and rub his eyes before he was able to focus on him where he sat next to him on the bed. It took yet another moment before he realised that Sherlock’s robe was open over his pyjama bottoms. John couldn’t help that he stared at the exposed, pale skin. He had never seen Sherlock without a shirt and most of his waken hours were spent wondering about the state of his friend’s body.
Of course Sherlock noticed and he was very quick to let go of John’s hand to cover himself properly. With a sigh John rested his forehead against Sherlock’s shoulder and moved his hand to Sherlock’s stomach.
“I don’t like when you do that,” Sherlock murmured, but didn’t pull away. Hardly even tensed up.
“Well, I’m not so keen about some things you do either,” John said without raising his head and instead of removing his hand he stroked Sherlock with his thumb, “So you just have to live with this.”
Sherlock rested his head against John’s and John could feel him trying to breathe through the uncomfortable feeling of having John’s hand on his belly. John had no intention to take it away or to stop moving his thumb and finally Sherlock’s whole body relaxed as their breaths synchronised. An incredible calm filled John, the last tension from the nightmare disappeared and he sighed.
“Do you want some tea?” Sherlock whispered and John couldn’t help that he chuckled.
“That would be nice.”
“I’ll be back,” Sherlock said and almost jumped off the bed. Confused, John looked after him. Was Sherlock going to bring him tea in bed? This was officially a parallel universe now. Or maybe he was still dreaming? If so, he really didn’t want to wake up before he saw the result of this.
Sherlock had left the door to his bedroom open so John could hear everything that happened in the kitchen. This was really happening! He could hear Sherlock poking around in the pantry, getting the mug (mugs? Hard to say) ready, pouring water…. It was fascinating, and soon enough Sherlock appeared in the doorway again with a tea mug in one hand and a box of crackers in the other.
“Why do we only have teas that smell like female perfume?” Sherlock wondered with a disapproving frown as he handed John the mug and sat down on the bed; strategically out of reach for John.
“Because I like them and you never do the shopping,” John answered with a smirk, trying to ignore that Sherlock was keeping a distance between them.
The explanation didn’t seem quite satisfying to Sherlock, but instead of pushing the question he opened the box of crackers and took one before offering the box to John.
“You’re not eating crackers in my bed,” John told him and blew on the tea.
“It appears I am,” Sherlock answered and took another cracker when John didn’t take the box.
“Give me a cracker,” John asked and as soon as he got one, he threw it at Sherlock who - to John’s delight - smirked but didn’t throw any crackers back. John smirked too and inhaled the scent of the tea; he had never thought about it before but Sherlock was right, it actually smelled like perfume.
It was a strange and novel feeling to sit with Sherlock in bed, drinking tea and eating crackers at 4 o’clock in the morning but John realised he liked it. Somehow it felt very natural and never had the demons from a nightmare been so easy to keep at bay.
“You’re feeling better, aren’t you?” John broke the silence to confirm what he had been thinking about for some weeks now.
“Yes,” Sherlock said with a confidence he had been lacking for so long. It was wonderful to hear.
“Good,” John nodded, his relief probably very clear in both his voice and his face. It was mirrored in Sherlock’s eyes and John put away his mug to be able to lean forward and hug Sherlock.
“John.”
John could almost hear Sherlock rolling his eyes.
“Don’t ‘John’ me,” he said and then lowered his voice to not much more than a whisper, “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you,” Sherlock whispered back into John’s neck and John couldn’t help to hug him even closer. “For everything.”
John wasn’t sure what to answer, hadn’t he been the one making everything so messy this time? Hadn’t he made ever thing worse? The sincerity was liberating though and there were no traces of blame in Sherlock’s voice.
“I love you, Sherlock,” John told him since nothing else seemed to fit and then he slowly let go of his friend, “But let’s not do this again for a while, okay?”
“Okay,” Sherlock said with a slight blush and a weak smile as if he wasn’t sure he could promise something like that. John had faith though and if it would happen again, at least he would be better prepared to deal with it. Hopefully making it better.
“I still want you to tell me if something happens,” John said and reached for his tea mug again, “Promise me?”
“That haven’t worked out so well in the past,” Sherlock said, sounding and looking a bit guilty, “And I don’t want to disappoint you if I can’t keep it.”
Well, at least he was honest and John appreciated that; it would have been nice to have got the promise though. In the end it didn’t matter John realised, his feelings were the same either way; stupid and naive as they might be.
“I trust you,” he said, feeling genuinely glad to be able to say it and mean it again. Sherlock looked moved and stunned for a moment, but then he smirked and shook his head.
“Idiot.”
***
End notes:
I just want to thank everyone who has read this and everyone who has commented throughout the writing process and shared tears with me. It means the world to me. Thank you.
***
There is a second cycle of this.