John was falling, falling. Sherlock tried to run forward to help, but he could not move. He tried to yell, but his voice wasn't there. He was shaking, tears rolling down his face, and he was forced to watch as John's body hit the pavement with a dull thud. Then there was blood, blood everywhere. Sherlock swore he could almost smell the coppery scent.
"NO!" Sherlock screamed as he shot up in bed, startling John up next to him. He was breathing heavy and sweating, and his heart felt as if it were going to pound through his chest.
"Sherlock!" John said, sitting up in bed. "What—? Are you okay?" He asked tentatively, seeing as Sherlock obviously had a nightmare. Sherlock only shrugged off John's hand and got up out of bed, not bothering to put anything on.
He walked shakily over to the kitchen and cracked the window open, the cold wind making his naked form shiver. He pulled open one of the drawers, scrambling to find the pack of cigarettes John had stashed there. He grabbed the pack and stuck one between his lips.
It was when he was struggling through his third match with shaking hands that he felt John's arms slip around his waist and his head rest on his shoulder. Sherlock pulled away and turned toward John, who had at least grabbed some pants, sneering.
"I'm fine," he snarled, "It was nothing."
"Sherlock…" John began to say, but he had gone back to trying to light the damn thing. John gently lowered Sherlock's hands, and grabbed the cigarette hanging from his lips. Sherlock sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "It's not bad to have nightmares once in a while…" John said shyly, knowing he had one at least once a week, and Sherlock would stay up, whispering sweet nothings into his ear until he fell asleep.
"John, I just…" And that's when Sherlock's mask began to crumple. "You—you fell, and—and there was blood everywhere—and—." Sherlock was shaking a little and stuttering, so John grabbed him and held him close and let him cry.
A moment later, once Sherlock had let out a few tears, he pulled back from John's shoulder, and looked at him fiercely.
"I can never lose you John—oh God. I can't live without you." He said in one breath, hoping not to scare John away. It had been hard at first, opening up to John, but in time he started letting John know how he was feeling, though he still had doubts that he had gotten so lucky.
John smiled sadly, "And I won't lose you again, so you won't have to." John then stood on his toes and pressed a soft kiss on Sherlock's lips.
"Let's go to bed." Sherlock nodded and John led them back to the bed where John held Sherlock, his head on his chest, and stroked his hair, whispering sweet nothings until he heard his breath even out and his shudders stopped. John kissed the top of his head before settling back and closing his eyes.