Work Text:
For two weeks after their rescue Watson slept on the settee each night, something Holmes was grateful for. However, he was not surprised that after a fortnight Watson returned to his previous nighttime routine and headed up to the third floor to seek his bed. What was a surprise the next morning was finding Watson back on the settee in an exhausted slumber. This continued for three consecutive mornings before Holmes decided that he should broach the matter with Watson.
“Watson, you seem to have returned to sleeping on the settee at night.”
“Oh,” said Watson, putting aside his pen and notebook, “I’m sorry for any inconvenience.”
“No inconvenience, my dear boy, the sitting room is as much yours as mine, and you may do as you wish. I’m just wondering if there is an issue I should be aware of.”
Watson sighed, then moved over to sit on the settee. Holmes took the chair opposite him.
“There is something. I’m afraid I’m having nightmares.”
“About your time in the army? I thought those had lessened years ago.”
“No, not the army, about the... the coffin.”
“Oh, I had hoped you weren’t aware of what was going on at the time.”
“We were drugged for most of it, but there were times when I would wake up confined in a tight space in darkness.” Watson visibly shuddered.
“I’m so sorry, my friend, if only I found you sooner.”
Holmes hung his head. Watson squeezed his shoulder.
“You did everything you could, and I knew you would find us, that’s how I got through.” Watson released his shoulder. “Only now, I’m having terrible dreams. They seem to be worse when I’m upstairs by myself. It’s easier to sleep down here, I’m not sure why, maybe because if I wake I can sense that you’re nearby, that I’m not alone.”
“I see, you of course can stay down here as long as you need, but what about your leg? Sleeping on the settee can’t be good for it, you can’t stretch it out.”
“I will admit to some small pain, but I can live with it for now.”
Holmes frowned at that.
“My dear Holmes, don’t worry overmuch. It will pass eventually like all things do.”
Holmes tried to follow his friend’s advice, but he thought of little else for the rest of the day until he came to a possible solution. That evening, when Watson went downstairs to chat with Mrs Hudson, Holmes went to Watson’s room and pulled the mattress from the bed, and he did the same with his own bed. When Watson returned it was to find both mattresses pushed together, and piled with blankets, on the sitting room floor.
“What’s this?” Watson asked.
“Well, you said you sleep better when I’m nearby,” said Holmes, gesturing at the improvised bed.
“Holmes, you don’t need to do this.”
“My dear Watson, I want to.”
That night they slept side by side, something they’d done many times before, usually while travelling to save on accommodation. In the middle of the night Holmes was awoken by Watson, who was twitching and muttering in his sleep, his head thrashing from side to side. Holmes reached over and rubbed Watson’s arm, that seemed to settle him somewhat, and the movements ceased.
The next morning Holmes awoke to a heavy warmth along one side, Watson had curled up against him during the night. Holmes was contemplating how he felt about this when Amelia entered the room. He had forgotten she was coming here today, ever since the case of the red thread Amelia split her time between Baker St and the American ambassador's house. Amelia raised an eyebrow at the makeshift arrangement in the middle of the room. Holmes swiftly disentangled himself and rose.
“Watson’s been having nightmares,” Holmes whispered.
“Oh, that makes sense, considering what he’s been through.”
“He says it helps if I’m nearby.”
“I bet it does, and you like being able to keep an eye on him too.”
Holmes is always a little surprised when Amelia can read his mind.
“Yes.”
A moment later Watson stirred, Mrs Hudson arrived with their eggs, and the day began in earnest.
As the days progressed Holmes found he liked waking up with Watson by his side. Most mornings he woke with Watson curled around him, and on the rare morning when he didn’t Holmes found himself wrapping himself around Watson so he would know he was not alone.
This continued for three weeks. Watson’s nightmares seemed to be happening less frequently, but neither one of them mentioned discontinuing the arrangement. Although, Watson did mention some worry about Holmes’ back.
One morning Holmes got up as Amelia arrived, stretching out a crick in his lower back.
“May I make a suggestion?” asked Amelia.
“You may.”
“Instead of sleeping on the floor why don’t you just buy a larger bed?”
“I suppose I could, but it seems like a more permanent change.”
“What’s the worst that could happen? If Dr Watson eventually goes back to his own room you’ll have a bigger, more spacious, bed to enjoy.”
Holmes found he disliked the idea of Watson returning to his room upstairs.
“The idea might have some merit.”
Holmes spent the next couple of days searching until he found a business that could make a bed, frame and mattress, large enough for himself and Watson. It arrived a week later.
Watson watched the delivery men put the bed together in Holmes’ bedroom alcove.
“Holmes, you didn’t need to spend money on this.”
“Nonsense, I received a reward for stopping the Bank of England robbery, there are worse things to spend it on.”
Watson looked at him like he knew that was just an excuse.
“Thank you, Holmes.”
That night they enjoyed the luxury of being able to sprawl out to their hearts’ content, but the next morning found Watson once again curled around Holmes.
A week later Holmes awoke to find Watson already awake and looking at Holmes. This was unusual because Watson generally required more sleep than Holmes.
“Good morning, Watson,” Holmes mumbled.
“Good morning, Holmes,” said Watson, still staring at him intently. Holmes shifted so they were laying face to face.
“Holmes, do you realize it has been a week since I last had a nightmare?”
“Has it? Well, I’m happy to hear that, my dear fellow.”
“I should probably return to my own room now.”
Holmes tried to ignore the pinched feeling in his gut.
“Oh, is that something you wish to do?”
“If I’m being completely honest, it is not.”
Holmes smiled.
“I’m glad—I mean, I’m happy to have you stay here as long as you like.”
“I’m happy to be with you.”
Then Watson leaned over and briefly pressed his lips to Holmes’. Holmes’ eyes widened in surprise.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped, I know we’ve never done that before,” said Watson.
“No, it’s fine—I mean, I... you didn’t.”
“Is it something you would like to happen again?”
Holmes only had to consider it for mere seconds, before he leaned over and kissed Watson in return.
The next day when Amelia visited Holmes pulled her aside.
“Amelia, Watson and I were wondering if you would like to move your things into Watson’s old bedroom, it’s larger than the maid’s quarters.”
“Oh, so Dr Watson is remaining downstairs here, in your bed, permanently?”
Holmes hoped his face wasn’t becoming flushed.
“Yes.”
Amelia smirked.
“I think I would like a new room, I’ll go have a look at it now.” She stopped at the door and turned. “Oh, and congratulations to you and Dr Watson,” she said with a chersire cat grin, before slipping through the door.
“The cheek of that girl,” Holmes muttered, but he couldn’t help but smile.