John was busy typing their latest adventure on his laptop, when Sherlock called him from his bedroom. "What?" "John, come here" John cursed. "Sherlock, I was- never mind, what is it?" He entered the bedroom. Sherlock lay on the bed, reading some book, already dressed in his pajamas. Without looking up, he said "Lie down next to me, John" "What?" "You heard me." "What-Sherlock, I do have my own bedroom, you know". "Yes, John, I'm very much aware of that. And you're also aware of the fact that my bed is big enough for the two of us" John gazed at Sherlock. He must be joking, he thought. "Why would you possibly require me to sleep next to you?" "Very simple, John, I do not need you to, I want you to, for yourself." "I'm not following this anymore" Finally, Sherlock turned his head to look at John. "You've been having nightmares", he said matter-of-factly. "Yes?" "Almost every night" John looked away. "Nightmares about me, about my death," Sherlock continued, "even though you know I'm alive" "…yes?" "Well, John, the mind is an intricate thing. Perhaps, if you could..feel my presence while you're asleep, somehow, you might sleep better?"
He stared at his flatmate intently. John sighed.
That night, John slept like a baby.