This was my first Fic so please be gentle. Critiques much appreciated.
link to cover picture:
entry/23089525
John had just walked away.
Sherlock regretted what he said, but he couldn't take it back, not now.
I don't have friends.
Hm. I wonder why.
The words echoed in his head, round and round. He put his head in his hands and sighed. He looked into the fire and watched its mesmerizing colours, thinking about black fur, red eyes, fear. He was scared. But more scared of losing the one friend he had.
The response had just slipped out; he was so used to saying it as a child to his parents and brother.
Sherlock's mother would always insist that, "Of course, you have friends! You just don't know who they are, yet. You'll meet them eventually."
After sending a text to John asking him to interview Dr. Louise Mortimer, -he almost didn't, afraid John would refuse- Sherlock continued to sit there for a few hours in silence, sometimes thinking about hounds or John or nothing at all. Eventually, he got up and went to his room that he was staying in. The key wouldn't go in the lock the first few tries, his hands were still shaking.
Stop, just stop it. Stop being afraid! You have no reason to be. He took a shower and put on his pyjamas before climbing into bed. He thought it would be better to rest than to stay up fretting over every noise of the night.
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A snarling was echoing around him.
Sherlock quickly turned around trying to find the source of the noise but only saw trees. He was breathing as if he had been running; running away from something he couldn't see.
When he faced forward again, he saw the hound standing a few yards off. Its shiny black fur and glowing red eyes read savage beast. There was a low growl coming from it.
Sherlock involuntarily took a step backward, crunching the leaves under his foot. The hound started toward him but he couldn't move.
The hound pounced on him and Sherlock screamed, but he didn't feel the pain he was expecting.
When he opened his eyes again he was in the Baskerville military base. John was standing a little too close for comfort, looking up into the taller man's eyes. He didn't look happy.
"Do you ever wonder why you don't have friends? You think you're so special with your deductions. Who wants to be around a freak like you? I'm surprised Lestrade has put up with you this long. Why do you think you put people off? You're rude and arrogant and a child. You're dead to me."
That's when he felt the hound tear into him.
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Sherlock jolted awake. The sheets had wrapped around his legs making it difficult for him to move. He made some disgruntled noises and tried to calm himself down. Nightmares are illogical, unpleasant. Caused my suppressed memories that cause discomfort.
He sighed. He laid there awake for a few minutes trying to catch his breath again; his arm swung over top his face. Eventually he got up and changed into sweatpants and an inside-out t-shirt and sat down on the edge of his bed. Long fingers clutching his curly dark hair. I won't be able to fall asleep again tonight, I know that. It is... he looked at the digital clock on the night stand 2:23 in the morning and none of my experiments are here, there is nothing to occupy myself with, my thoughts will just wonder into unwanted memories, no one to talk to- He stopped thinking for a moment.
No one to talk to. Not necessarily. He could always go to John's room down the hall. No, he's still mad at me for earlier. Not a chance. And he would not appreciate the early wake up call. Would he? Sherlock never quite understood what he should or shouldn't do in social situations. If you would call this a social situation. He ran the scenario in his head.
John would most likely wake up and try to strangle him. But I won't wake John up. How would he get in the room anyhow? Pick the lock.
Good thing they don't use key cards.Sherlock thought with a smirk. He stood up and saw himself in the full length mirror from across the room.
His normally erect posture was slouched and his face was long and forlorn. He felt like a child going to his parents' bedroom after a nightmare.Well... I did have a nightmare.
What would a normal person do in this situation? Sherlock thought about this and concluded that they would just stay in their own room and deal with it. The detective didn't want to "deal with it". Fear was a distant memory to never think about.
Why he was going to John's room to cease the boredom when John wouldn't be awake was beyond him. Having another person with him, knowing that the hound wasn't everything, would make him feel better.
Sherlock walked to the dresser and took out his lock-picking kit. He'd need to be quiet because John's military training made him a light sleeper.
He walked quietly out his door and into the hallway, found his flatmate's room, and began picking at the lock. 8 seconds. New record.
Sherlock tiptoed silently into the ex-army doctors quarters and spotted the short man in the bed. He then proceeded to sit in the armchair next to it. So very much like John's armchair back at the flat.
He sat with his knees up to his chest and arms around his legs to watch the doctor. John was on his side facing the opposite wall, his slow breathing somehow reassuring to Sherlock.
After a few minutes, he didn't know what made him do it, Sherlock laid on top of the covers next to John, staring at the ceiling. The short man turned over in response to the subtle movement. I'll leave in the morning before he wakes up. Sherlock told himself.
He didn't sleep that night but simply watched his one friend do so. He counted his breaths, even his eyelashes. Took in every detail. Anything to keep his mind off of unwanted mutant beasts.
At one point, at about 3:30, John sleepily flung his arm out and it landed straight on Sherlock's face. Sherlock cringed and took the hand away but kept a hold onto it.
Sherlock forgot why he had come and didn't care why. He gently held onto his friends hand, his long fingers running John's wrist. He unconsciously took John's pulse and was a bit worried to find it was a bit higher than would be normal for a sleep. Nothing of concern, really, but Sherlock still fretted. Was he dreaming? Was he having a nightmare? Another visit to the sandy landscape of Afghanistan?
Sherlock sat up a bit and visually examined his friend. There seemed to be no distress in his facial expression or any sweating from a fearful dream. Breathing was steady and he was still.
Sherlock then laid back down and was wondering why John's heart rate was a bit high.
He laid there, sometimes playing with John's hair and sometimes just staring, observing, but always holding his hand. He often wondered, I am surprised that he hasn't awoken yet. Perhaps he is not as a light of sleeper as I thought.
When 6:30 rolled around, Sherlock got up and left the room; regretting leaving almost as much as what he had said the night before, but not quite.
He put on grey slacks, his buttoned purple shirt, jacket, and coat. He had noticed Molly listened to him more when he wore that shirt, so maybe it would work on John also.
The stairs creaked as he went down to get the complimentary breakfast. He left before John was ready.
When John went downstairs he had hoped to see his friend. He was still a bit mad about what Sherlock had said but he would never let him know that he, also, was awake the whole night.
Author's Note: I didn't know where to put this in the story so I'll just put it here. John awoke as soon as Sherlock picked the locked. He is indeed a light sleeper. John purposefully flung his hand out just so he could slap the detective without worrying about Sherlock's feelings being hurt, since Sherlock would think it was an accident since he thought John was asleep. He didn't expect Sherlock to actually hold his hand but he didn't really mind so he just left it. And John's when pulse was a bit high, that was because when you're asleep your heart rate slows down so it was actually his heart beating normally because he was awake. AND SHERLOCK ACTUALLY DID WEAR THAT SHIRT THE NEXT DAY, HA. But I don't know if they used actual keys or key cards so... :/
in other news... How do I do indentions!?