I had to write something.
It was 2am and John had just woken up from a terrible nightmare. He wanted to make sure he hadn't woken up Sherlock, since it took him hours to persuade Sherlock to sleep. He was shaking really bad. He just sat up in his bed trying to gain enough composure to get out of bed and check on Sherlock.
It was another dream about the war. Gunshots, explosions, all of it. He couldn't quite remember why this one seemed to be worse than the others, but it was.
He finally gained enough composure to silently creep out of bed and peek into Sherlock's room. He was glad to see that he was still asleep. Sherlock looked peaceful when he was sleeping, a lot more innocent. John realized at that moment that he would like nothing better than to be in the bed with him. Not in a sexual way, just in a comforting way. He wanted to feel Sherlock's warmth and hear Sherlock tell him that it would all be alright. But john was too proud of himself to ever admit it.
He gently padded back to his own room and lied back down again, but he couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to be in Sherlock's bed, rather than his own.
After a half hour of contemplation he decides his plan of action. He tip-toes back to Sherlock's room, opens the door, but instead of just standing there and watching, he walked to the edge of the bed. He starts to move the blanket back so that he can slip in, but Sherlock stirs, rolls over and looks at him.
"John, are you alright?" he asked in a husky, tired voice. John could sense a bit of concern hidden there too.
"Yes. Fine." He replies shortly.
"John, do I…" Sherlock starts as John climbs into the bed. "Do I need to do something for you?" he rephrased the earlier question.
John thought of a lot of things Sherlock could do for him. Sherlock could tell john that everything was fine. Sherlock could hold John to his own body, stroke his hair and comfort him. But john was too proud, and slightly embarrassed, to ask for either of those things from his flat mate. "no, I'm fine, Sherlock. Go back to sleep."
Sherlock hesitated, his hand reaching toward his friend, wanting to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but thought better of it and rolled over to face the wall, and not John.
They both soon closed their eyes and fell asleep.
-SherlockSherlockSherlock-
The next morning arrived quickly. Sherlock awoke first, which was fairly unusual. He usually woke up after John, would tiredly stumble into the kitchen where john was waiting with a mug of coffee and toast with Nutella on it, and they would sit in comfortable silence.
Sherlock noticed when he woke up, that at some point in the night, they had each rolled over and were now intertwined. John was pressed firmly against Sherlock's chest and their legs were entangled. The odd position made Sherlock quietly chuckle, seeing as how John mad a point not to touch Sherlock whatsoever the night prior.
Sherlock lay there for a while, unsure what to do. John was starting to stir and Sherlock didn't want to make his friend feel awkward, so he pretends to be asleep. He knew it was childish, but he wasn't ready to deal with an embarrassed John this early in the morning. John wiggled out of Sherlock's embrace and Sherlock let him. John maneuvered silently out of the room, but Sherlock just lied there. He knew that soon enough he had to speak to John about why he had felt the need to climb into his bed, but he decided that right then wasn't the time, so he rolled back over and went to sleep once more.
Should I keep going? Or just leave it? Review.