So this is my first attempt at a Sherlock fanfiction, and I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock
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Flashback
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As Sherlock snuck past John's room, he could hear whimpers and quiet yells coming from the room. He stared at the door for a moment. John was possibly just having a bad dream, they tended to stop once John was woken up. Sherlock knocked on his friend's door, hoping to wake him up.
What Sherlock wasn't expecting was for John to start shouting even more, Sherlock quickly opened the door.
"John?" His answer was a handgun aimed at his face. Just by looking at John, Sherlock could tell that John was still stuck in his dreams. The 'click' of the safety being turned off snapped Sherlock out of his thoughts. Sherlock quickly raised his hands in defense.
"John." Sherlock spoke softly, his friend's gaze on him still unfocused.
"John, it is November 2011, you are in London," Sherlock tried again, taking a step closer towards John. John flinched, putting his finger on the trigger. Sherlock could see just a small hint of familiarity in John's eye.
"John Watson, I am Sherlock Holmes, your flatmate." Sherlock said, looking at John once more. John's eyes started to focus a little more.
"You are currently at 221B Baker Street, London. You're not in Afghanistan anymore. John, you're safe," The gun aimed at Sherlock's face was lowered, as John stared at Sherlock, blinking rapidly.
"Sherlock?"
Sherlock allowed himself to smile lightly, as he put his hands down and grabbed the gun from John's hand. John sat back down on his bed, a hand on his forehead. Sherlock put the safety back on, and took the ammunition out of the handgun.
"What happened?" John asked, looking up at Sherlock, as Sherlock put the gun back in the bedside table.
"You appeared to be having a flashback to your war days. And possibly believed I was an enemy," John sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.
"You must be under stress," Sherlock continued,
"I suggest you take the day off. I heard that BBC1 is going to have a marathon of that show you liked, Doctor Who," Sherlock started to walk out of the room.
"Sherlock….Thank you," John said, as Sherlock was just out the door. The taller man didn't say anything and continued down the stairs.
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Once John was done getting dressed and headed down towards the kitchen, he already found a cup of tea already made for him, placed on the table next to his chair. Sherlock was at his computer, a mug right next to his elbow. John smiled, plopping down into his chair and grabbed the remote.
XXXXXXXX So, I hoped you enjoyed, and hope for reviews.
So, a little back ground on why I started this story and it's a little personal and I'm sorry…Yesterday was a really horrible day for me, because I kind of woke up like John did. I was in belief that I was still living at my father's house last year. But unlike in the story, I had no one with me to make me realize what year it was, and it took a good hour or two for me to figure out where I was. I wrote this story for my best friend, Kit (kitsunethefoxgirl), because she is my Sherlock. and I'm her John. And she comforted me yesterday after what happened, and this is kinda my thank you to her.
Have a nice day!