John woke slowly to Sherlock's quiet whimpers as he pressed himself further into John's side, trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. Groaning slightly, John rubbed at his eyes, twisting his upper body slightly to glance at the clock on the bedside table without disturbing the shaking form beside him. 1:32 a.m. It was 1:32 a.m.
Just as he was going to scold Sherlock for waking him up at such a ridiculous hour of the morning (not that he wasn't used to it, but still), another clap of thunder shook 221B, sending Sherlock even further into John's side.
John sighed, draping an arm around the little boy's shoulders. When they had first become aware of the effects of Sherlock's accident, Mycroft had warned him that, as a child, Sherlock had been terrified of thunderstorms. He hadn't, however, mentioned any ways he knew of calming his little brother. Brilliant. Thanks, Mycroft, John thought.
Not knowing what else to do, John lifted up a corner of the blanket. "Come on, Sherlock," he said softly. "Get in."
Without even a moments hesitation, the little boy scrambled under the blankets and curled up against John's chest. Letting the blanket drop, John wrapped his arms around Sherlock, wondering how long he had been on his bed before he had woken up; Sherlock's tiny frame was as cold as ice!
Holding the still-shaking child close, John began to hum; just a simple melody, something he had overheard Sherlock playing once, but he had always found it to be soothing. So, it seemed, did Sherlock, who, little by little, began to still. John continued to hum as the little boy's breaths began to even out, not stopping until well after the small child had fallen asleep once more.
More lightning flashed in the windows, swiftly followed by the familiar yet ferocious roar of thunder. John held his breath, waiting for Sherlock to wake up again, frightened and screaming, but the little boy remained asleep.
With a small smile, John brushed some of the magnificent curls out of Sherlock's face, which held a look of peace he had never seen on his friend's counterpart. When morning came, he and Mycroft would be back in the lab, trying to find a remedy for the situation, but for the moment, John was content to fall back asleep, Sherlock held tight in his arms.
