I dreamed something bad last night. One second I was staring up into a blue sky, birds chirping in the distance, white fluffs of clouds forming abstract shapes above my head. I suppose I was laying in the grass, though I didn't really have time to look around. The sky felt off, making me want to stare at it even longer. The white clouds changed color. Turning a dark grey, and soon the sky changed color too. There were no birds chirping anymore, and the sky had turned charcoal black.

"John."

I didn't have to look around to see whose voice that was. Sherlock. His baritone voice haunted my thoughts, even though it shouldn't, it did. It had been almost a month since Sherlock waltzed back into my life as though nothing happened, and I broke. I broke when he returned, so I had to hit him. And hit him I did, and the following week I broke up with Mary. I told her I couldn't be in a relationship right now because things were happening, and she just smiled and said that it was okay, even though she was crying.

"John." Sherlock's voice made me shudder in fear, but why fear? Why was I afraid of my best friend? I couldn't respond, my mouth feeling dry and full of dirt.

"John. I need to tell you something. Something I should have said a long time ago." I listened, my throat closing around my words.

"John Hamish Watson I..." I felt my heart start to race, as I waited for him to finish, but he wouldn't be able to. The sky above me began to shatter, giant rips in the sky made me feel like I was watching the world end in front of me. A bright white explosion erupted in front of me, causing me to yelp out in surprise.

I awoke with a start, covered in sweat and clinging to my sheets. My dream ended badly, though i couldn't remember what happened in it. I heard a soft knock at my door, and I snapped my head to the noise. It was still dark, I glanced at my clock. The bold red letters read 3:50, in the morning. I heard another knock, and a voice followed after.

"John?" I got up to answer, dragging my blanket along with me.

"Sherlock?" I said as I opened the door, light from the hallway filling my room and causing me to flinch. I saw the tall man before me in his blue robe, grey shirt, and sweats. His hair was a giant mess of black curls, telling me that he was probably asleep before he decided to check on me. His blue eyes looked tired as they looked at me, making me wonder if he had barley fallen asleep.

"John.." Sherlock began," I heard you calling out my name, was there something you needed?" I stared at him for a while, just looking at his figure. His sharp cheekbones and tall figure. I drank all of it up. After a while I finally responded.

"I...called to you? When?" I gave him a sincere confused look," I don't remember calling to you Sherlock."

"You probably did it in your sleep, causing me to wake up." He ran a hand through his hair and ruffled it a bit, sighing out. "What did you dream about?" He suddenly asked. I shifted from one foot to the other, running my tongue over my lips swiftly.

"I don't really remember, I only remember seeing clouds and a bright light. Then, well...I woke up sweating and panting like I ran a marathon." I could feel the cool air hitting where I was damp on my arms and neck, and tried not to shiver.

"Joh-"

"Sher-" We both began to speak, but stopped and stared at each other, waiting to see who would talk first. Sherlock's lips were parted, and he was leaning against my door frame. "Go ahead, you first," I whispered to him, his face relaxed a bit, lines disappearing within seconds.

"Right," he cleared his throat and stood up correctly, running a hand through his hair. "I was just wondering..." he mumbled something and I couldn't hear him, even though it was only the two of us talking. Sherlock was looking down at his feet, sorta like a school boy who got caught doing something bad, and was getting scolded.

"Can you repeat the last part?" I asked, and Sherlock sighed. He looked me dead in the eyes, absorbing me in. I didn't notice before that there were red rims around his eyes, as though he were rubbing his eyes a lot, or maybe worse, crying.

"I was wondering," Sherlock began, snapping me out of the trance I was under while I looked into his beautiful eyes," if I may accompany you to sleep. I mean if you were to call out my name again, from a nightmare of course, then I may help you. Yet, I cannot if I am in the other room. So, the only logical thing to do is allow me to sleep in the same bed as you."

I was stunned, Sherlock Holmes was asking to share a bed with me. He was avoiding eye contact, which was unusual for his normal cool composure. Yet, at a time this early in the morning, it didn't surprise him. I sighed, and tried to suppress a smile, which Sherlock duly noted as he started to stare at me, waiting for a response.

"That does sound like a good idea, doesn't it?" I could see a look of excitement flash over his face, then was replaced by his mask of no emotion.

"So, is that a yes John?" His baritone voice ran through my ears, making me shiver with anticipation. I licked my lips and suddenly felt nervous, we were about to share a bed.

"Yes, Sherlock. As long as you also get some sleep." I turned away and made my way to my bed, sliding under the covers. Sherlock slowly walked in, closing the door behind him. As he approached I felt my heart race, and then he was next to me. The bed shifted as he laid down, his warmth next to me, making me want to snuggle up to him. I had to restrain myself, afraid it might creep the other male out, but I couldn't help but look at him. It may have been dark but there was moonlight seeping from a window near the bed, and it made Sherlock looked like the most perfect person ever. We were facing each other, and staring at one another. The moonlight made his already prominent cheekbones stick out more, his cupid-bow lips slightly parted, and his piercing blue eyes read my every thought. As we stared at each other under the covers, I felt my thoughts swim about, and thought about Sherlock. His breath, his closeness, his warmth, his scent... The smell of soap and cigarette on his skin. I wanted to get closer, to wrap my hand around him and breath him in.

"Goodnight...John." I heard Sherlock say, snapping me out of my thoughts. I mumbled a goodnight back to him, and I could tell he was smirking.

We were much closer now and I could feel his breath on my lips, I was staring at them. those perfectly shaped lips, so kissable. How I itched to kiss them, for the longest time I felt like this, wanting to be this close to Sherlock. I felt myself start to drift back to sleep, the sound of Sherlock's easy breathing relaxing me. I felt an arm wrap around me, and I just snuggled closer smiling.

"I...you," I barley heard him say, but I couldn't respond, nor could I hear part of what he said.

I slipped into slumber, wrapped into Sherlock's arms, and I didn't have another nightmare that night. Just sweet bliss of sleep, and warmth of kisses Sherlock was giving me every now and then. I was too comfortable to even care, and since it was Sherlock, it felt right.

And the rest of that night, I had a wonderful dream.