FanFiction
BBC Sherlock (Written from John's POV)
Title: Nightmares About You
Summary: Starts with John having a nightmare about the Reichenbach Fall. It has already happened and Sherlock has been back for a few weeks now.
Jim Moriarty sat on a wall,
Sherlock Holmes had a great fall.
All Mycroft's horses and all Lestrade's men,
Couldn't put Watson together again.
(rhyme is not my work)
Nightmares About You
A tall man in a black coat fades into my mind. His scarf blowing in the wind. I can see it clearly from way down. On the ground. So alone…"It's my note. It's what people do don't they? Leave a note." Horror floods inside of me. Don't jump from the building.
"Please, don't."My head twists.
"Leave a note when?" A voice over the phone. His voice. "Goodbye John."
"John…"
My yelling. I'm screaming from my mouth. I scream as loud as I can. My throat feels like it will burst if I yell again.
"No…"
Sherlock is falling, down. His body fades in and out of my vision. Please…A blur of red as I push myself as close to him as I can. "Sherlock, no. I can't….just don't be…"
"John!"
His blood on the pavement…The cold feeling of his wrist.
"He's my friend."
I can't feel a pulse…Shocking blue eyes stare into nothing…People pushing me away…"No, I can't leave him, I won't"…Sherlock being taken away…"I need to be with him"…
"JOHN! John, wake up!" Someone's hand is on my shoulder, shaking me. Hands taking me, holding me back…the black writing on his gravestone…
"NO!" I sit up suddenly, putting my head in my hands. I am breathing very heavily and I can feel sweat all over my face. It drips down from my head onto my hands. I can hear my name being called from someone next to me yet I can't tell who it is. My face is burning yet my sweat is cold. I can feel my back is drenched in sweat too, and my shirt is clinging to my skin. I am gasping for air; I just can't take it anymore…
"John! John, what's happened?" I still haven't moved. The voice of Sherlock Holmes, my only best friend, is heard in my ears. "You were yelling, in your sleep. I came and tried to wake you…" The bed sinks slightly as he sits down in front of me. He puts his hands on my shoulders and shakes me a little. "John?" I can't look at him…My hands rub over my face and through my damp hair. I'm not breathing as heavily now, but my chest still expands and contracts rapidly. My heart beats loudly inside my chest. My fingers grasp my wet hair and I shut my eyes tight. A single tear from my eye flows down my face, over the edge of my nose. It falls off and lands on my pajama pants. Sherlock sees my terror and shifts his body on the bed. He sits on his heels so he can face me better.
"John…please, tell me what happened." His voice sounds so sad and gentle. He grabs my wrists and slowly but steadily, pulls my arms away from my head. He lets go or my arms and I hug my knees into my chest. I let out a deep sigh, which sound like short little quick breaths from my mouth because I feel like I am going to start crying.
My body is shaking uncontrollably all over. I finally manage to spring words from my lips. "Sherlock." My voice doesn't even sound like my own. It cracks from me trying to produce noise from my mouth. I sniff my nose quietly and I let out another short sigh. "I can't take it anymore…The fall…it's giving me nightmares…" I stare down at my knees and refuse to look up at him. Sherlock's eyes widen, and he thinks the nightmares are his fault. After all, he's the one who jumped from the building…The one who was going to leave me in this world, alone.
"Oh John." He crawls much closer to me on my bed and sits directly next to me. His arms reach out and I feel his body against mine as he gives me a hug. I hug him back, and I bury my face into his dark blue shirt. I let out another sigh of small quick breaths and Sherlock rubs his left hand up and down my back.
"Shh…It's alright John. I'm here. Shh…calm down…" He tries to get me to relax, but it doesn't work out too well. "It just keeps coming back to haunt me…I just can't get it out of my head…" My voice is really shaky and my muscles are tense all throughout my body. Sherlock whispers calmly in my ear to try and calm me down. We break away after what seems like ages, and he still has his hands on my shoulders. My shiny, sweaty face looks into his long, perfect face. He gives me a slight smile and runs his right hand over my cheekbone. He feels my forehead and a little bit of my hair. "Are you alright John? You look really pale and feel awfully hot…"
I tell him the truth and shake my head. "I just can't stop thinking about it…" I extend my legs and put my head in my hands again. Sherlock looks at me with sad eyes and breaths out. "Come on," he says. "Up you get."
"Why?" I practically refuse to move because I am in total horror. I am tense all over and still have not calmed down.
"We're going to clean you up. Cool you down. I want you to settle down before you go to sleep again." He gets up from the bed and takes the chair from the corner into the bathroom. I hear a thud from inside a couple times. I weave my fingers through the blinds and peer out my window. A couple seconds later, Sherlock returns and holds out his hand. I grab it with slight hesitation, and I pull myself out of bed. He leads me into the bathroom and makes me sit down in the chair in front of the sink. I hear him take a towel and run it under cold water. He squeezes it out and folds it in half.
"Tilt your head back." He places his left hand on my forehead and gently leans my head closer to the sink. I gasp a little at how cold the sink is, but after only a few seconds, it no longer feels like ice. Sherlock stands over me, rubbing the cold towel all over my face. He washes my hair out with cold water, and then he sits me up so I can dry my hair with a new towel. I move it all over the top of my head, and after I rub it along my neck and face again to check and see if I am now ok.
Before helping me get up, Sherlock hands me a tissue so I can blow my nose. I stand up from the chair and throw myself at him. I bury my head into his chest, and he holds me in his arms for a long time. I can feel his left hand on my left shoulder, and his right hand running his fingers through my hair.
He lets go of me and looks me straight in the eyes. The soft blue color gives me a feeling of happiness. He moves his smooth hand over the left side of my face, and gives me a small smile.
Then his voice protrudes softly from his lips, and I can barely make out what he's saying. "Everything will be ok John. I'm here, and I'm never going to leave you again. You're my soldier, my brave army doctor, my companion, my best friend, and I love you." His smile widens, and he comes closer to give me a small kiss on my lips.
"I love you too Sherlock." I look down and reach my right hand down to grasp his left. His hand is so smooth and warm, and I never want to let go of it.
Sherlock looks down at me, and he says, "I'll be right back, ok? You put on fresh pajamas. You can't sleep in those." I nod, and he lets my hand fall as he walks from the room.
The feeling of my other pajamas feels wonderful against my skin as I sit on my bed. I hear Sherlock's footsteps coming up the stairs and down the hall. His knocks quietly on the door before entering. He places his hand once again on my shoulder, and then he flips over my pillow. I look up at him with sad eyes, and he pats his hand on the pillow, motioning for me to lie down. I do so, getting under the covers, which are still slightly damp.
Sherlock pulls a chair up right next to me. The clock on my bedside table reads 2:34 AM. Sherlock's hand finds my forehead one more time, just to check that I am all settled in. "Get some sleep," he says. The smile across his face is the same one before he kisses me.
"What about you?" I ask, confused as to why he is sitting there. "Are you going to stay for a while?"
"Yes, I'm going to be in here for a while. It will comfort you. Now, go back to sleep. No more nightmares, ok?"
"I'll try." My eyelids soon begin to drop from the thought of sleep on my mind. Calm, quiet, peaceful, sleep. My chest rises slowly and steadily as the mattress swallows me. I hear Sherlock whisper one more thing before I hear no more. "Goodnight my little friend. My army doctor. My companion." He reaches his hand under my covers and finds my hand. He pulls it out, so it rests in front of my face, and grips it slightly as I lie with my eyes closed. And just so he knows I am still awake, and that I love him, I squeeze his hand too.