John was startled awake by his own screaming. It had been another nightmare of his. Most had to do with war but the latest seemed to be about Sherlock..
Flicking his eyes over to the click, john groaned.
2:35
This never ending fear stabbing at John's mind. One of these days John would end up with his best friends blood on his hands.
Busting through the doorway John sped to the kitchen. There was no use falling back asleep. Knowing where he'd last his his stash John pulled a big bottle of whiskey from it's hiding spot. He flung the cap off and drowned a what was left of the bottle.
"Drinking again my dear Watson?"
"Fuck" John mumbled under his breath as he spied a cross legged Sherlock in the room over.
"What seems to be the problem this time? "
John wanted to respond but knew better and begun to return to his room. His body aching from lack of rest. He can feel the blood rush though his head. What a mistake it was to drink that much.
"John"
Sherlock's calm voice spoke with what seemed like a hint of worry. No that couldn't be worry, Sherlock worries about no one but himself.
"It is nothing Sherlock, leave me be"
John rubbed his blood shot eyes tiredly with one hand,Sauntering over to his bed.
A cool hand rested itself on John's bare back as the cushion dipped.
Quietly as he could Sherlock whispered.
"It's me isn't it. The nightmares?"
"Yes"
Pulling John's face to his,
Sherlock kisses John's forehead.
John was silent. Had he really just done what he thought he did. John raised his eyes to meet Sherlock's.
"I'm here John. I am not going anywhere"