Night Thoughts And Dreams - Chapter 1 (Comfort)
It was two o'clock in the morning and Sherlock Holmes lay on the sofa in the living
room of 221b Baker Street. His long legs dangled over one end, whilst his head was
propped against the other. The fingers of both hands were steepled together and
rested just under his chin. His eyes were closed and his face was serene, but he
wasn't asleep.
He was thinking about John Watson, reflecting on their life together and how far they'd
come, how far he himself had come, in a relatively short amount of time. On the
surface, to the outside world, nothing had changed. But on the inside, Sherlock Knew
he was a totally different man to the one he had been just a few months ago, before
Doctor Watson came quietly into his life and changed it forever.
Just thinking about John brought a smile to Sherlock's lips, and stirred other areas
much lower down his body. He shifted slightly to accommodate this and marvelled
that just thinking John's name could illicit this reaction. He hadn't known he was
capable of feeling such things until that unassuming man had smiled at him for the
first time, and Sherlock had quite literally forgotten how to breathe. He'd covered
his confusion of course by turning the tables and asking John, an ex soldier, if it
was Afghanistan or Iraq that he'd just returned from. John had stared at him
aghast, overwhelmed even, unable to work out how he'd known. It had given
Sherlock a few much needed moments to recover himself and try to slow his
heartbeat a little.
Then he'd looked up and caught the other man's eye, and found himself totally
transfixed and unable to look away. The seconds had ticked by and all Sherlock
could do was stare and imagine in great detail what would happen if he walked
across the room and kissed the man standing there. What would it feel like? What
would he taste like? Would he respond, or would he recoil horrified and punch
Sherlock in the face? At that point Sherlock's body had betrayed him utterly as
was evident by the huge bulge in his trousers. Totally non-plussed he had risen,
thankful that the lab's work bench covered the condition he found himself in, and
quickly pulled on his long coat to hide it even more, before taking his leave,
telling John to meet him at 221b Baker Street at seven o'clock the next day.
As he left the building Sherlock could not get the doctor's face out of his mind, it
was burned into his memory, as was every line and contour of the man's body.
His thoughts did nothing to ease the erection that still throbbed uncomfortably
between his legs, and Sherlock Holmes could not hold back the groan which
rose up from the back of this throat as once more totally unbidden the doctor's
smile invaded his mind. How had the other man ensnared Sherlock in such a
short time, and more to the point, did he even realise that he'd done it? Sherlock
didn't have an answer and that in itself gave him a jolt, because no matter what the
problem Sherlock always had all the answers. But this time he'd had nothing but
feelings, and emotions, and raging hormones to guide him.
Sherlock was yanked back to the present by a blood curdling scream that shattered
the peace which had settled upon the house. His eyes flew open and he sat bolt
upright as another scream echoed around the room. "John!" He thought.
John was having another nightmare.
Launching himself off the sofa Sherlock ran into the hall and up the stairs, his
long legs easily navigating them three at a time. He burst into the bedroom to
find his friend thrashing around on the bed, eyes wide and staring, though it was
blatantly obvious he was still deeply asleep. Climbing up onto the bed Sherlock
wrapped his arms around John Watson and held him tightly, all the time stroking
his hair and whispering comforting words into his ear. Gradually John's thrashing
stopped and his eyes opened to gaze at the man who was holding and soothing
him. Taking a deep, ragged breath John whispered Sherlock's name.
Sherlock smiled. "I'm here love."
"Oh God Sherlock...It was so awful. People were dying. There was so much
blood!"
"Sssh, it's ok John. It was just a dream. You're here with me, you're safe. I won't
let anyone or anything hurt you."
John's sigh of relief tugged at Sherlock's heart as he wrapped his arms more
securely around the doctor and placed a light, reassuring kiss on his forehead.
"Don't leave me Sherlock!" John pleaded.
"Why would I leave you? Where would I go? I'm exactly where I want to be."
Sherlock replied.
Hearing him, John opened his eyes again and looked up at Sherlock in awe and
wonder. Sherlock returned the look.
"You know I love you, don't you John?"
"Say it again." John almost begged.
"I...love...you!" Sherlock replied. "More than anything. More than life."
More than I ever thought possible he added to himself, as he lowered his head
and captured John's lips in a long, lingering kiss.
And as they pulled apart Sherlock Holmes, self confessed high functioning
sociopath, felt a warmth spread through him and thought his heart would
burst, as he heard John Watson say quietly.
"I love you too."
