A/N: This one was not inspired by anything except my own imagination. I don't own any characters, but if I did, I'd be a happy girl. Enjoy!
Sherlock Holmes stared into the empty flat, shaking, the nightmare still fresh in his mind. He wanted John to come home. After the last three years, he could barely stand to be away from him for long.
Come home –SH
I can't. Working. –JW
Please –SH
Sherlock, I can't. I have a few more patients to see. –JW
They're not important –SH
John sighed and shook his head.
Yes they are. –JW
Not important –SH
I love you, but let me finish. I'll be there in a couple of hours. –JW
Sherlock groaned and loudly flopped on the sofa. He missed John, but work was more important than him. He closed his eyes and his mind raced, trying to think of something to do when the doctor arrived home. He spent hours lying down, and then his mobile went off.
On my way. –JW
"Excellent," he muttered, leaping up from his spot. In the kitchen, the detective made a bowl of popcorn and put the kettle on. He grabbed a blanket, placed it on the sofa, and then looked through his and John's small DVD collection, picking out a comedy he knew John would enjoy.
"Sherlock, I'm here!"
"Hello," he called cheerily from the kitchen, steeping the tea.
'Where are you?"
"In the kitchen."
"All right." He ambled in, staring at Sherlock, a small smile on his face, and the detective wrapped his arms around the doctor.
"Hi."
"Hi, Sherlock. How are you doing?"
"Much better. I missed you."
John looked up at him, "You've never said that to me before."
"Haven't I?" Sherlock asked, his lips pressed against John's forehead.
"No."
"Well, then. Go sit down. I'll be out in a minute."
"Sherlock, what are you talking about?"
"Just go, John."
The doctor sat on the corner of the sofa, waiting, nervous.
"What are you up to?"
"Don't worry about it!"
Finally, Sherlock emerged with a tray. On it, there were two mugs of tea and the bowl of popcorn.
"Sherlock, what the hell?"
The detective eyed John with a death glare, "just give it a minute, would you?"
He set the tray on the coffee table, then sat down on the sofa. He slid his lean body into the corner, angled so John could fit next to him. Seeing this, the doctor curled into Sherlock, giving him a kiss.
"Thank you for this , Sherlock."
The detective grunted in response, covering the two of them with the blanket. He turned the movie on and handed John his tea. After the movie, John noticed that as per usual, Sherlock had dozed off, often because he was bored.
"John!" he called out, startling awake.
"Sherlock, what is it?"
"Nothing," the detective muttered, "it was nothing."
"Was it a nightmare? You aren't fooling anyone."
"You've spent too much time with me, John," the detective quipped, grimacing.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine… No, John. I keep dreaming that you're gone. I can't find you anywhere. It- scares me."
"You don't need to be scared, Sherlock. I'll always be here. Hold on a minute," John said, moving to the other side of the sofa, his back against the arm, "come here."
Sherlock lay back against John's chest, dragging the blanket along with him. John put his arms under Sherlock's, his hands just below the detective's chest.
"Don't you ever think for a second that I'm leaving you, Sherlock Holmes," he soothed, "I will never leave you."
The detective sighed, "thank you, John."
John grinned into Sherlock's curls, "I love you, Sherlock."
Sherlock turned his head to look at the doctor, shifted so they were eye level, and placed a kiss on his mouth, "I love you, too," he said against John's lips, causing the doctor to entangle his hands in the detective's curls and pull him closer. Sherlock broke away and rested his head on John's shoulder, his hand on the other.
"I missed you, too, today," the doctor shared, "I almost left when I got your text."
"Are you serious?"
"Absolutely. But I knew I couldn't."
"Why not?"
"Because the only way for me to get out of trouble with my bosses is to go out with them, as you've noticed."
Sherlock smiled and closed his eyes, happy to be with John again.