I wrote this in a short amount of time, it was more for fun. Enjoy!
When Sherlock was young he used to have nightmares, frightening ones that would probably terrify someone that wasn't like him. And though Sherlock was frightened he always sat and toughed it out until his brain did what he wanted. Sometimes he wouldn't get any sleep, but that was something he could live with.
He saw nightmares as just plain annoying; they made it hard to think when he woke up.
He thought they were annoying until one night; he woke up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily with his eyes wide open. It was one of those dreams where you couldn't be certain if it actually happened or not, his hands gripped his blankets as he looked around the room. This was where his dream had ended, with him sobbing on his pillow! Sherlock curled into a ball, smacking his fists to his forehead telling him to stop being stupid, but when that didn't help he jumped out of bed. It was dark, and the only thing he could hear was the slap of his bare feet against the wooden floor. He stopped for a moment outside his mother's bedroom door, but didn't go inside.
His mother would call it a child's stupid and pedestrian nightmare that he shouldn't be worried about if it was indeed a dream! Sherlock closed his eyes, his body shaking as the memories flooded back; he continued to walk passing the bathroom and the upstairs guestroom until he found himself standing at a white door at the end of the hall. He grabbed the doorknob (which was covered in beautiful engraved vines on it) He turned it and stepped inside closing the door carefully behind him. An enormous window provided what little light there was, revealing a large bed covered excessive amounts of blankets and pillows. A small desk sat in the corner, with paper, pens, and so forth sitting on it (perfectly organized of course)
Sherlock felt his heart beat quickly as he couldn't see any specific body shape in the bed, he felt too terrified to go up and check. In the rather unusual silence he felt tears stream down his cheeks as he leaned hard against the door (which he thought was ok since no one was there)
A sudden loud snore made Sherlock slide to the floor in relief, he was still alive! He gripped loose fabric on his pajama pants, his eyes closing. For a while he didn't think, he just listened as his brother snored, he felt almost stupid (not that he would admit it)
Of course Mycroft was alive! But something was biting at his heart, and he didn't seem to be moving from his spot on the floor. After ten minutes Sherlock realized what he was doing, he was watching over his brother! He was (just for tonight) going to make sure that nothing happened!
Which was odd because Mycroft often did that.
Sherlock stood up and walked over to Mycroft's desk and sat down in his desk chair turning towards the bed, "Sleep well brother," he muttered.
This focuses on Sherlock because Mycroft is asleep
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