Thank you for reading, it's a pleasure to write. Reviews keep me going. Always a pleasure, Jay x
There was nothing like watching John sleep. He seemed so rested and so at peace but at the same time ready to strike, like a cobra lying in wait. His fingers trembled slightly, jerking occasionally like pulling a gun trigger. His breathing would increase and become shallow, his nightmares plaguing him and sending him to the front line of duty.
It seemed so at odds with his very British checked pyjama bottoms. Sometimes I would watch him toss and turn, trying to think of any possible solution that would ease his suffering. I composed several songs for him in the hope they would filter to his unconsciousness and tell him that he was not alone on the dry, arid battlefield of his mind.
The idea of sleep was intriguing to me. John had recommended it to me countless times, insisting that it was refreshing and would help me think. I didn't need to think. I needed to stop thinking, that was the problem. The reason I couldn't sleep. The irony.
Watching John though, was, different. It gave me a restful feeling. A night where I had watched him gave me a clearer thought pattern the next day. John was my sleep.
I believed at first that having a flatmate would irritate me beyond reason but Mycroft would not relent. He insisted that I have some sort of live in to ensure I didn't climb the walls by narcotics. For him it was like a personal gift when a certain army doctor was invalided home. In his own crafty fashion he had taken a stubborn man and told him what to do, so naturally he knew he would do the opposite. Mycroft had no need of a spy on me, he had many already.
No, John was more of a friend; A confidante and soundboard for my restless mind. I was grateful to have him and it distressed me slightly to see him in the fit of a nightmare. It puzzled me that he had a calm and peaceful demeanor that extended to his very core when inside he was in a raging turmoil of war.
I wove him a softer lullaby that seemed to soothe him. If he knew I did it, he never mentioned it and I preferred it that way. Sentiment is irrelevant to me but having my blogger in a permanent tired state due to nightmares is impractical to me. I require him at his best and if that requires a little work on my part then so be it.
It was difficult to deny however, the temptation to smooth his sweat soaked hair back from his forehead and provide comfort to him. It was like watching an animal suffer and I merely wish to alleviate his anguish. After all, it is of benefit to the work.