I watched Sherlock frown in his sleep. He writhed around on the bed, obviously having a nightmare. Again.

He'd been having nightmares every night for the last two weeks. Every time I asked what they were about, he wouldn't tell me. He'd always say to me that he didn't want to burden me with his problems. I could never seem to explain that his problems were my problems; that if he told me, I could help him overcome them.

I sighed, watching him. He kicked off the duvet as he muttered in his sleep. I thought about going to open the window. I took his hand in mine, and immediately let it go as I felt the temperature. I definitely needed to open that window.

I silently sat up in the bed, pushed myself onto my feet and walked round the bed to the window. I pushed it open, revelling in the cool air that hit my face. Because it was June, the misty night time air was always a good thing to have around when the air in the room was humid. The navy blue night sky was glittered with sparkling silver stars, without a cloud in sight. It was a beautiful clear night, and I wished I could clear Sherlock's mind enough so he could share the scene with me.

Suddenly, I heard a shout: 'John!' I turned back to Sherlock instantly. He had sat up and was breathing heavily. I was by his side in an instant. I swiftly flicked the switch on the lamp on the night stand before I spoke.

'Hey, it's alright,' I whispered as I stood in front of him, my hands holding his shoulders. 'I'm right here. Everything's OK.'

'John,' he whispered again.

'Yes? I'm here. It's OK. I'm right here.' I sat up on the bed, on my knees, before him, taking hold of his hands.

Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around my neck. 'Don't ever leave me, John. Please, don't ever leave me on my own.'

I raised an eyebrow. What had he dreamt about? 'I won't, I promise. Sherlock, I'm right by your side.'

I turned myself around, settling myself next to him, my back resting against the headboard. I held his hand as he sighed. I thought about asking him to tell me what he saw, and almost decided against it. Almost. But then he jumped; his whole body shaking with fear, and I knew I couldn't leave it any longer.

'Are you going to tell me what you've been having nightmares about, Sherlock? It's only fair: I've waited two weeks,' I asked, rubbing my thumb across the back of his hand.

He turned away from me, sighing deeply. 'John-'

I shook my head, cutting him off. 'No. Sherlock... I... You know how hard it's been recently for me to admit things like this... but I'll do it anyway, just to show you how much I care. I'm... really worried about you. Seeing you unable to sleep in peace is really distressing me. I have no choice but to lie awake watching you, just to make sure that you're safe.

'So please. Tell me what it is that's bothering you. I can help you. I can help you feel better. I promise.'

He sighed as he faced me. 'You're not going to let me go until I tell you, are you?' he asked.

For the first time, I really noticed the expression in his beautiful blue-green eyes: tired, scared, pained. His soft black curls were a mess, looking dishevelled, untamed and unruly. I knew that he'd just been asleep but I had realised the fact in the light of day as well.

'No, not really. So come on. Spill the beans, Holmes.'

Again, he sighed, gripping my hand tightly. 'Remember that time we investigated the Black Lotus case, with the deaths of Eddie Van Coon and Brian Lukis?' he queried.

I rolled my eyes. 'How can I forget?' I shot back. 'I was nearly murdered by that General Shan woman.'

'Exactly,' Sherlock stated in a matter of fact tone.

'What?' I said before I could stop myself. I didn't even give myself time to figure it out on my own. Which, after seeing Sherlock flinch as he realised that he'd have to explain his nightmare, I knew I should have done. So I muttered an apology, saying that if I was like him - smart, intelligent, a no-nonsense guy - I would have worked out what he was getting at, just to see if I could make him smile. It didn't work.

He growled, slamming his fist onto his thigh. I needed to calm him down. Fast. He wouldn't talk to me if he was worked up. So I did what always seemed to appease him.

I turned myself around to face him. I gently placed my hands on both his cheeks, forcing him to look me in the eye. My face was mere centimetres away from his and all I wanted to do was close the distance between us. But I couldn't. Not yet. He'd only go and push me away. He never engaged in 'romantic or sexual activity' with an agitated mind. I had long ago learned to accept that he wouldn't calm down with a kiss. That came afterwards.

So I whispered, 'Listen, Sherlock.' His eyes were still unfocused. 'Listen to me, love.' Finally, his shining eyes looked straight into my dull ones so I knew I could continue. 'I'm sorry. Really. I... didn't know it would affect you the-'

The rest of my words were swallowed in Sherlock's kiss. His arms circled my neck. My hands travelled down to his shoulders. The kiss was soft, sweet. He probed his tongue into my mouth gently and I smiled. Sherlock Holmes was getting bolder. Both our tongues moved against the other's in a lazy dance - neither of us trying to gain the upper hand. I basked in the comfort of the kiss that Sherlock initiated, knowing that it could be months before it happened again. We'd been together for six months and this was the second time he'd been the kisser.

It was over far too soon in my opinion. When we parted, I grinned at him, my breath heavy. He gave me a very rare genuine smile. 'I get it, John. You don't need to apologise,' he muttered.

Wow, this was good. Probably never going to happen again but good. He laid down, his arm behind his head. 'Come on, John. It's quarter past one in the morning.'

I laid beside him, facing him. But something felt off. Something was missing. And then I realised. 'Sherlock...' I warned him. He turned onto his side to look at me, and his mouth twisted up into a smirk as he knew I'd figured out his plan. 'It was a bloody distraction!'

He laughed. 'Yes. It was.'

I sucked in a breath, propping myself up onto my elbow. 'You're not getting away from me that easy, Sherlock.'

He put on such an adorable pout that I thought about letting him off. 'Do I have to?' he asked, sounding bizarrely like a child.

'Yes, you do. But take your time, darling. Take your time.' I took his hand and brushed my lips over his knuckles. 'We've got all the time in the world.'

'It... it's a recurring nightmare.'

'Right...?'

'I keep seeing that General Shan holding a gun to your head. I keep seeing myself getting to you two too late. I get there just after she shoots a bullet through your brain. I see blood pouring out of your head and me frozen on the spot, unable to stop her or go to help you.'

I wanted to tell him to stop. I couldn't bear thinking about it - that I had inadvertently given him so much pain. But I couldn't. I'd told him to talk about it. 'Then I see myself at home,' he continued. 'In 221b Baker Street, and I'm driving myself crazy. I've literally destroyed the wall with my gun... and... and...'

I hooked our hands, giving his a squeeze. 'Take your time, Sherlock,' I repeated.

'I... self harm. Bottle after bottle after bottle of alcohol - vodka, I think it is. And I... don't know how to stop.'

I sighed. 'Sherlock... it's just a nightmare. It's in your head.' I tapped my index fingertip to his forehead. 'If you delete it from your Mind Palace, then it's gone, right?'

'I... guess so,' he shrugged. 'Maybe.'

I smiled at him lightly. 'I know so, darling,' I mumbled. I reached across and touched my lips to his in a short, chaste kiss. 'Forget about it. General Shan didn't kill me and she won't ever get her filthy hands on me again.

'I'm staying by your side. I promise you with everything that I am that we will go a long way together unless something happens to change your mind. Because I've given my heart to you and I don't plan on getting it back.'

Sherlock nudged closer to me, his head resting on my chest, just above my heart. My arms encircled his lithe figure as I sighed contentedly. Everything was going well. I knew what was upsetting him; he knew that he could tell me if something was wrong. 'Nothing will change my mind, John. I love you. And I will continue to do so until the day I die.'

I couldn't stop the grin escaping my lips. 'I'm glad. I love you, too, Sherlock.'

The room was full of silence before Sherlock spoke once more. 'John,' he muttered sleepily.

'Yes, love?'

'Thank you. For listening. For showing me you care.'

'Don't ever thank me for doing that again, silly. Of course I care,' I replied. 'I care so much about you. And I always will.'

Sherlock reached across and switched the lamp off. The only thing I heard before the room was engulfed in darkness and I succumbed to sleep was, 'The feeling is mutual - darling.'