Chapter Text
There are nights like this. Nights when John cannot bring himself to sleep even if he's absolutely exhausted. Nights when the memories hit too hard and no matter how much he tries to calm himself with the breathing exercises his therapist gave him, every time he closes his eyes he sees Sherlock falling of that building.
Things are alright now. Sherlock is safe, he knows that. In fact he's playing the violin downstairs. He's okay. They're okay. They weren't for a while, but they are now. They're safe. Sherlock is safe. And John knows it. But sometimes there's nights like this one.
Conformed with the fact that he isn't going to sleep tonight, John gets up and goes downstairs to make himself some tea. (there's no use in doing one for Sherlock since he will probably be in his mind palace for a while).
John and his tea go sitting on his chair in the living room while Sherlock is facing the window while playing. He isn't aware of John's presence but John is okay with it, he's used to it by now. Just seeing Sherlock playing in their home, safe, away from that bloody hospital, makes the knot on his chest untangle a bit. He's okay.
"He's my friend"
"One more miracle for me, Sherlock, don't be dead."
John feels his breathing getting unsteady and he tries to focus on the music Sherlock is playing. He has heard it before and it is his favorite. He needs to ask it's name someday.
Slowly he starts feeling better although the knot on his chest is still there. The only thing that would make it disappear completely would be to have Sherlock in his arms. Safe. John wanted nothing more than to tell him how much he loved him. He always did and although it scared the living shit out of him, he always would.
That's why he was so scared every time Sherlock went out alone or came home late. Because all he could see was his best friend, God the love of his life, lying on the street dead.
He wasn't really dead, John knows it now. But John from a few months ago didn't. That John was a complete wreck. The moment Sherlock jumped of that roof, staging or not, it took a bit of John's soul.
And he spent the next 2 years not living, only surviving. The amount of times he thought about ending his life... Anyway Sherlock is here now and they are okay.
There was a slight change in Sherlock's posture which sent John straight to the kitchen to bring him some tea.
When Sherlock finally came out of his mind palace, two things were different from when he entered. There was a perfect cup of tea waiting for him on the table and a very tired John Watson sitting on his chair.
"Did I wake you up? ", Sherlock said with a guilty expression. He knew sleep didn't come easily for John.
"Nah, couldn't sleep", John answered with a sleepy expression and affectionate eyes which he shouldn't give Sherlock, the only consulting detective in the world, but he was tired and pretending he doesn't love him is the most tiring thing.
"Sleep is overrated anyway", John finished with a shrug.
"How long was I away? " Sherlock inquired
"Huh", John checked his watch, "about four or five hours"
"And how long have you been here?"
"Probably for two hours, I got up and made some tea. Also the music is relaxing."
Sherlock could see the tiredness in John's eyes, shoulders and entire body. He should be sleeping.
"It's not healthy for you, staying awake so late, I mean." Sherlock continued with the same guilty expression.
"You do it all the time, Sherlock. In fact you are doing it right now! " John replied with amusement.
"But that's different". Sherlock whispered.
"Why is that different?"John asked also whispering although they didn't have to since there was no one else in the apartment.
Sherlock who had been staring in John's eyes looked around the room obviously nervous about the question. He saw the tea on the table and went to drink it expecting it to be cold since John said he was up for the last two hours.
As he sipped it he marveled at the warm feeling in his mouth.
Then he turned to John with a puzzled expression.
"Thought you said you prepared the tea when you got up two hours ago.. "
"Yes I did. Mine, i meant."
"But how did you know when to prepare mine? ", this felt like a puzzle and if there is something Sherlock Holmes loves is a puzzle.
"Huh", John blushed (WHY IS HE BLUSHING!?!), "I knew that you were leaving your mind palace soon... "
"How did you know that? "
"Is just that.. ", John couldn't find the right words, "your expression changes, like when you solve a case. And did you know that your eyes kind of change colors when you're in your mind palace? When they start to change back and you happen to have you eyes open, I know you are coming back."
John looked like a tomato at this point but it didn't matter because Sherlock was even more flustered.
" Why can't you sleep? ". Sherlock asked suddenly.
"Memories. Sometimes they're too vivid."
"What are they about?"
“You“, John answered with a painful look.
He didn't have to say anything else. Sherlock knew exactly what he was talking about and stared back with the same sad face.
They were both exhausted and not sleeping was only a part of the problem.
Sherlock was staring at John he remembered that day. God that awful day.
His eyes filled with tears and he got up and ran to Sherlock who only had time to put down his cup.
John hugged him tightly and Sherlock after a while hugged back just as tight.