Chapter Text
Sherlock’s eyes snapped open as he heard a loud shout of distress coming from above him, and it only took him a moment as his eyes darted around his dark room for him to deduce what had just woken him.
He jumped to his feet and scrambled to grab his pants from the floor and pull them on before he slipped on his robe and tied it off, another shout reaching him as he opened his door and rushed from his room and towards the stairs. He didn’t bother knocking when he made it up to John’s room, he merely made his way inside and over to the bed where he turned on the lamp on his nightstand.
John’s face was twisted into a pained grimace as he emitted a continuous stream of soft whimpers, his body restlessly tossing and turning and getting him more and more tangled up in his sheets, and when Sherlock leaned over him and gently placed a hand on his chest John jerked so violently Sherlock ended up taking an elbow to the stomach. The detective winced at the sharp jab, but this didn’t deter him and he kept his hand on his friend as he calmly began speaking to him.
“John, wake up. It’s alright, you’re alright, you’re just having a nightmare. Come on, John, wake up.”
He continued his soft stream of words, trying to pull his friend out of wherever he was as gently as he could so as not to make him panic worse when he woke, but John had apparently been too deep into his nightmare this time for Sherlock’s voice and touch to soothe him. He watched as John’s breathing became even more erratic before his eyes snapped open and wildly began darting around and scanning his surroundings, and he only had a moment to realize what was about to happen when the former soldier’s eyes landed on him before John bolted upright and struck out at him and he had to jump back to avoid being punched in the throat.
“John, it’s alright, it’s just me. It’s Sherlock,” he continued calmly as he attempted to reach out again, this time letting his hand slide along John’s arm since he didn’t want to risk getting too close again just yet.
“Sh-Sherlock?” John panted, brows furrowed in confusion as he blinked several times in an attempt to clear his vision.
John was covered in sweat, his heart pounding and lungs feeling too tight in his chest, his head was splitting, his muscles tense and feeling ready to spring at the slightest provocation, and his whole body was shaking violently. His mind was racing, screams still ringing in his ears, and he couldn’t focus.
When Sherlock noticed the dazed look in John’s eyes and that he didn’t seem to be calming at all, he moved closer to him and gave his arm a gentle squeeze and decided to try one of the grounding techniques he’d read about in an attempt to help.
“John, can you tell me five things you can see?”
John frowned, not quite able to process what was asked of him but feeling his mind coming into a bit of focus at the feeling of soft hands on his arm. “What?”
“Five things you can see. Tell me.”
John blinked, needing a moment to try and focus some more before he let his eyes start darting around once again. “My dresser…the laundry hamper in the corner…my bed…the lamp…” His eyes flicked up to the taller man hovering over him. “You.”
“Good. Can you tell me four things you can feel?”
“My heart trying to escape my ribcage,” John joked shakily, said heart starting to calm a bit as he saw a small smile gracing his friend’s lips. “My bedsheets. Uh…the cool air?” he offered.
“One more.”
John glanced down as he felt Sherlock’s thumb gently caressing at his arm. “Your hands.”
“Three things you can hear,” Sherlock prompted.
“Your voice… Your breathing… Faint city sounds.”
“Two things you can smell.”
“Lavender and coconut,” John answered immediately, not having to try as hard to think on that since Sherlock was standing so close to him.
“One thing you can taste. Or a taste that you like.”
“Cinnamon,” John answered, still able to taste remnants of his toothpaste.
Sherlock smiled as he let one of his hands rub along John’s arm in comfort while he kept the other clasped around his forearm. “Feel better?”
John paused before his eyes widened a bit in surprise. “I do, actually.”
“Surprised?”
“A bit, yeah. I’ve never managed to calm down that fast after coming out of a nightmare before.”
“Yes, well, you’ve never had someone try to help you calm down after one either,” Sherlock pointed out. “Is your shoulder bothering you? You look more relaxed now, but you still appear to be holding quite a bit of tension in your left shoulder.”
John frowned as he noticed a dull throbbing ache in his shoulder now that it was pointed out to him. “Ah, yeah, it tends to flare up when I have a bad nightmare.”
“That’s probably because of how your body tenses up in response to your fight-or-flight reflexes being triggered by them.”
“Probably, yeah,” John agreed as he idly brought his right hand up to carefully massage at the tender area.
“Do you need your painkillers?”
“No, it’s not that bad–should be fine just massaging it for a bit.”
“I can help with that,” Sherlock offered as he took a seat on the bed next to his friend and gently batted John’s hand away so he could replace it with his own.
“No, don’t, I have to be easy with it or it makes it worse rather than helping,” John protested, frowning as his hand was swatted again when he tried to cover his shoulder once more.
Sherlock gave him a bit of an insulted look. “I’ll be careful, John,” he told him as he carefully started prodding at his shoulder, adjusting the pressure he was applying as he watched the other man’s face.
It wasn’t long before John lost his pained grimace and sighed in relief, and Sherlock was happy when he felt the tension in his shoulder slowly draining from him under his careful touch. He kept up the gentle massage until John’s body began leaning towards him and he eventually felt the man slump against him and he could no longer reach his shoulder.
He felt his face flush a bit and his heart have some kind of weird little arrhythmia in his chest as John rested against him, and he wasn’t sure what to do for a moment since they’d never sat together this closely before. It was one thing for Sherlock to lay his legs over John’s lap or even lay his head in his lap so John could massage his head, but this felt more intimate than Sherlock was comfortable with… And the warm feeling spreading through his chest as John buried his face against his collarbone felt too much like sentiment and had him wanting to retreat… And yet he found his arm moving without his permission and wrapping around John’s waist to pull him closer to his side.
“Thanks, Sherlock,” John mumbled sleepily.
“You’re welcome, John… You should try to get some more sleep. It’s early, and you’re still tired.”
“I’d rather not go back to sleep,” John admitted even as he felt himself trying to slip back into unconsciousness from the comforting scents of coconut and lavender wrapped around him, and the warmth radiating through him where Sherlock was pressed against him.
It was easy enough for Sherlock to deduce that John was afraid of having another nightmare since he’d just come out of a rather bad one not that long ago, and he himself didn’t exactly feel like moving at the moment just to go downstairs to get his violin so he could play John back to sleep, so he gave a small hum as if in thought. “Well, I’m going back to sleep. We don’t have a case to stimulate my mind, so I’m still tired,” he said simply.
John frowned but he nodded in understanding and pulled away from the other man’s comforting hold. “Right. Sorry I woke you up.”
“It’s fine, John. It’s not your fault,” Sherlock assured him as he flopped back on John’s bed and wiggled his hips a bit to nudge him since he was too close to the edge for comfort. “Move over.”
John blinked just to give Sherlock a confused look even as he did as he was told and scooted over a bit so his friend had more room. “What are you doing?”
Sherlock tutted as he slipped under the covers and got comfortable. “I just told you, John. I’m going back to sleep.”
“Uh…this is my bed,” John said dumbly.
“The sky is blue.”
John furrowed his brows in confusion. “What?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sherlock said sarcastically. “I thought we were stating the obvious for some reason.”
“I just meant that you have your own bed, in your own room,” John pointed out.
“Yes, and that bed is all the way downstairs while yours is right here. Now, may I turn the light out or would you rather I leave it on?”
John frowned, too tired to really puzzle out whether this was just Sherlock being Sherlock or if there was some deeper meaning behind this that he wasn’t catching on to. So he decided to just go with it rather than overthinking it, and he sighed as he laid back down and moved over a little more to give Sherlock even more room. “You can turn the light off.”
“Goodnight then, John.”
John smiled just to shake his head as the light clicked off. “Goodnight, Sherlock.”
He silently stared up at the dark ceiling as he listened to Sherlock’s breathing slowly evening out and growing deeper, trying to stay awake since he really didn’t want to end up falling back into the nightmare he’d been woken from but also because he was worried he could hurt Sherlock in his sleep. Of course, he knew the obvious solution to this would be to just get up and go downstairs and watch TV or something until it was light enough for him to start his workout and go on his morning run…but he found himself reluctant to get up for some reason. Probably because Sherlock was in here with him and his friend’s presence always calmed and comforted him when he wasn’t throwing some kind of strop or being a bit of a dick because he was bored or stressed over a complicated case.
He looked over when he felt Sherlock shifting around a bit, and he smiled as he heard him let out a little huff and what sounded like a frustrated grumble as he continued to shift around until he finally settled down. And when he started wiggling around again a little bit later he found himself wondering if he was a bit uncomfortable because he was wearing his robe since he’d mentioned a couple of weeks ago that he preferred to sleep naked.
John blinked just to shake his head as he felt his face heat up at the thought. “Don’t think about him being naked while he’s in your bed!” he scolded himself.
Of course, now that the thought had entered his mind, he now found himself thinking about the fact that Sherlock had been asleep before he’d heard him having a nightmare…and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d put any pants on when he got up or if he just threw his robe on with absolutely nothing on underneath.
“Ok, seriously, you need to stop thinking right now!” he told himself firmly, really not needing to keep on this train of thought when all that would do was cause him to develop a problem that could make things awkward if he had to get up to take care of said problem and Sherlock woke up and saw him before he could escape downstairs to the bathroom.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and slowly let it out in an attempt to clear his head, though his eyes flew open and he immediately felt his pulse skyrocketing once more when Sherlock shifted around next to him once again and he suddenly felt his warm body being pressed up flush against his side, the other man’s head moving to lay on his chest, an arm wrapping around his waist, and one of those sinfully long legs sliding between his own and wrapping around his left leg and clinging to him like an octopus.
He reflexively brought his trapped arm up to curl around Sherlock’s waist and rest his hand over his hip, not sure whether he was more relieved or disappointed when he felt the outline of the waistband of his pants through the thin robe, and once it fully registered how they were positioned it had John’s stomach fluttering as he struggled not to think of the last time he’d had someone wrapped around him like this with him holding them close–and how at that time they’d both been sweaty and naked and recovering from a spectacular orgasm. It was difficult, but thankfully he eventually managed to push the thought away and enjoy the unexpected closeness like he usually did whenever he and Sherlock would cross into each other’s personal space, and he found his eyes slipping closed even though he knew he shouldn’t let them with how tired he was still feeling.
Unsurprisingly, it would seem he ended up falling back asleep despite his determination not to, because the next time he found his eyes fluttering open his room was bright from the sun shining through the window and he and Sherlock were in slightly different positions than he last remembered. The detective was still wrapped around him, but apparently John had shifted onto his right side in his sleep–probably because his bad shoulder had started hurting with Sherlock laying on him the way he had been–and now found himself being the little spoon as the other man cuddled him from behind.
He let out a content sigh as he stayed where he was for a moment, reluctant to get up when he was quite comfortable at the moment, but he had a session with Ella at eleven that morning. And with his clock telling him it was already slightly past nine, he knew he had to get up if he still wanted to get his morning workout in, take a shower, and fix him and Sherlock breakfast before he had to head out. So he only gave himself a few more minutes to laze about before he attempted to slip out of Sherlock’s hold and get up.
John let out a small huff in amusement when he immediately heard Sherlock making a sound of protest and felt his arm tightening around his waist as soon as he moved, and he looked over his shoulder as he gave his friend’s arm a soft pat. “Ok, you cuddle-monster–not that I don’t enjoy a good cuddle, mind you–but I need to get up.”
“No you don’t,” Sherlock protested sleepily as he burrowed himself more closely against John’s back.
John chuckled. “Yes I do. Come on, let me up.”
“Don’t want to… Too comfortable.”
John rolled his eyes, though a soft smile tugged at his lips. “Well too bad. I need to get up now if I want to have time to get through my morning routine and make us breakfast before I have to head out.”
Sherlock frowned. “Just cancel with your therapist. I don’t know why you still see her anyway–you don’t need to.”
“Don’t know why you think I don’t need to. Just because I’m not an emotional mess twenty-four seven doesn’t mean I don’t still have issues that I don’t know how to deal with without help.”
“I could help you.”
“I appreciate the offer, Sherlock, but you’re not exactly an expert on regular emotions and how to deal with them, let alone traumatic ones,” John pointed out.
Sherlock tutted, though he had to concede the point. “Fine, then just wait until after your appointment to work out.”
“I would, but chances are high that if I put it off I’ll end up skipping it today altogether, either because I’ll decide I don’t feel up to it anymore or because Lestrade will call with a case,” John countered as he gave Sherlock’s arm a soft squeeze and lifted it off of him so he could get up.
Once he was on his feet he looked back to his friend when he heard him let out an indignant huff just to see him propped up on his forearm and shooting him a glare that was rather ruined by the adorable bedhead and pout he was sporting at the moment. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how he managed to tear his gaze away when he found himself extremely tempted to lean down and kiss him, but somehow he turned away and made his way over to his dresser to grab a change of clothes.
“You can go back to sleep if you want. I’ll head downstairs so I don’t disturb you,” he offered, smiling as he heard Sherlock grumble something unintelligible before he heard him flop back down on the bed.