It was starting to become a habit. Waking up in the middle of the night, screaming at the top of his lungs, t-shirt clinging to his shaking body, the images still flashing in front of his eyes. Suppressed memories, incidents he vowed to never think or talk about ever again, seemed to find a way back to him through his dreams, taunting him every single night. Sometimes he recognized the people, sometimes he didn't. It didn't matter, though. They would all die, eventually. They always did.

Slowly he pushed himself up. The cold air embraced him ruthlessly, making him shiver quietly. The thought of spending another night alone, feeling cold and useless, afraid to fall asleep again, made his stomach drop. In a swift motion he swung his legs out of bed, both feet finding the wooden floor.

There was a rather big possibility the detective was still up, probably writing or reading a book. Maybe he could join him for a while, not even to really talk but only to be in his presence. To just look at him. Watch how he would crease his brows while thinking, how his curls would dance when he turned his head, the way he would occasionally smile at him, those beautiful blue eyes looking back at him. He had tried to argue his feelings for a long time, but deep down inside he knew. Of course he knew, how could he not?

His mind wandered back, to the days of denial. Those first weeks living with this madman. Moments of mind-blowing genius alternating with the sometimes sudden urge to just strangle him. Still, he could feel how this brunette slowly took a hold of his heart. Those bony fingers wrapped around the center of his body, and he knew the only way to stay alive was to surrender. He was in love with a consulting detective, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The steps creaked under his feet, a sound he had gotten used to. It represented a sense of safety, friendship and love. This house was more than just a random space furnished with shared belongings, it somehow felt like 'home'. A place where he could calm down, where he could be exactly who he was knowing nobody would scold him for that. For the first time in years, there was no place he would rather be than right there, at 221B Baker Street.

Disappointment took a hold of him as he saw him, lying completely still on the couch, hands pressed together beneath his chin. For some incomprehensible reason Sherlock liked this position. 'Relaxes the mind, John.' he'd say, not even looking at him. It was obvious he needed that silence sometimes, since his brains never really seemed to cease for a minute.

That was the exact reason why John didn't reach out to him. The man deserved his rest. Just a couple hours without deductions, cases and other incidental thoughts. A moment to pay a little attention to his own dreams and aspirations, although he wasn't completely sure if a man like Sherlock had those.

So, as quietly as he had walked down the staircase, he returned his way back to his bedroom. Preparing himself for another sleepless night, hours filled with obscure nightmares, only craving for the man he was in love with.

Just one more time he dared to glance over his shoulder, a lump forming in his throat. He never intended to fall in love, not with anybody. Yet, there he was. Crying over a man who would never return the feelings, a man completely unknown to 'love'.

Loneliness, a constantly returning theme in his miserable life.

#

When your whole life is based on facts, on situations you beheld with your own eyes, real data you never once doubted, a sudden overwhelming sensation of uncertainty can drive you completely insane.

This was, apparently, the exact way Sherlock felt that particular night. All those thoughts and 'feelings' – as people liked to call them – wouldn't leave him alone for just one precious second. Just one moment of heavenly quietness, to think about something that did matter. Murderers, freely walking down the street. Rapists, swindlers, drug dealers, serial killers – god, how he loved those –, kidnappers. Those were things that mattered, to him and to the people around him.

But then again, why did his mind always wander back to this man? Why did a case, and God knew how he loved to solve crimes, not challenge him anymore? Why had his body and mind suddenly decided to focus on this man? There were so many questions, and even he – the great Sherlock Holmes – was not able to answer one of them..

His eyes shot towards the stairs as heart wrenching screams filled the living room. Immediately he covered his ears in agony, trying to shut out the horror. Knowing John was in pain, mentally and maybe even physically, made him feel weak and disgusted. He should be there for him, especially when the nightmares started again. But he couldn't, he just simply couldn't.

As soon as he heard the doctor coming down, his instinct took over and carried him to the couch. He was not ready to ventilate these chemical reactions inside his head, not yet. Too much embarrassment and confusion involved, which would probably tend to turn into a weird form of aphasia, which would eventually lead to even more confusion and definitely a lot more embarrassment, not only for him.

His hands found each other, right beneath his chin, for the detective a familiar position. Just as he closed his eyes, he could hear John sighing softly in the doorway. All his senses operated at full power, feeling every movement, hearing every sound. It seemed the only possible way to be close to this man, the only way to satisfy his desires.

Images, little pieces of vague memories, flashed in front of his eyes. When he saw John Watson for the very first time, and he immediately knew this man was going to change his life completely. When his ego almost got him killed, and John saved him from such a disastrous destruction by killing a man. The days after the incident, when a sudden longing of body contact started to occur to him. Innocent moments, when John had made him tea, and their fingers brushed as he took the cup out of his hands. He felt electrified, as if he was literally connected to a socket and energy was running through his body and heart.

It had scared him at first. Only after a couple days, when the sensation had subsided, he started to realize the meaning of it. Yet, one single reaction did not determine this – 'being in love' – applied to him one hundred percent. So, that evening he had asked John for some tea. Again, their fingers had met when he took the cup. Again, his body had reacted energetic to that single touch. Finding the same result twice meant something entirely different. He knew this as well as anybody.

Despite this knowledge, he didn't get what all this really meant. Usually, at least he thought so, both should experience the same force of attraction. Obviously, this meant they were never going to get together in the first place. Great start, Sherlock. Bravo!

Just for one second, as he lied there, he considered telling John everything. He needed to get it out, to free himself from all this nonsense inside his head. However, such an act could mean the end of their friendship. And at that moment, he knew only one thing for sure. A life without Watson, was not a life worth living.

After a minute, maybe even less than a minute, the doctor disappeared again. That night, just like before, they were going to be alone, again. Both not ready for the first steps, afraid of losing the most important person in their life.

With a frustrated sigh, he clung one of the pillows to his chest and stared into the darkness of the room. He felt alone. For the first time in his entire life, he wanted to be around someone – John. To hear him babble stupid comments about the case, or watch him update his blog, then press his body against John's back and insult his writing, which John would then return gracefully, sometimes even with a smile.

He was going insane, and God.. He loved it.


A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm really interested in your opinions! I can use any kind of review, really. Tell me what you think; continue this or not? I'm having some pretty big ideas, and if you guys like it I'm going to work it out. Thanks again! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, events, etc.