I do not own any of these brilliant characters.
Hold Your Breath
He was yelling, again. Sherlock sat up and clicked on his light. The room was filled with a soft glow that did nothing to soothe his nerves. He stepped out of bed, his bare feet touching the cold floor. John's yells were growing closer together and Sherlock walked swiftly from the room, taking the stairs two at a time, his maroon nightgown gliding behind him. He knocked softly on the door. There was no response save the scared whimpers. Sherlock opened the door quietly and entered the room. John was lying in bed, his sheets pulled around him like a straightjacket due to the tussle of his night terror.
"John?" Sherlock called softly, approaching the bed. John didn't wake but writhed back and fourth. He let out another cry and Sherlock crossed to his bed and sat down next to his flatmate, reaching his hand out to touch John's shoulder. His heart was beating uncomfortably in his chest as though it may leap out at any moment. Sherlock shook John lightly, yet he sill didn't wake.
"John?" Sherlock repeated. John was moaning now, his eyes still closed.
"John!" Sherlock now shook him more harshly. John hollered and his eyes flew open. He sat up and almost fell backward, still wrapped in the sheets.
Sherlock got off the bed and helped John untangle himself. John was still looking wildly around and his eyes finally met with Sherlock. His breathing was ragged and his eyes looked panicked.
"S-Sherlock." He said, his voice coming in between gasps of breath.
"John, it's alright. You're alright now." Sherlock said, sitting down on the bed again and reaching for John's shoulder.
John bent his head down and tucked it between his knees and his breathing was still harsh.
"Calm down." Sherlock said, his voice spiked with worry. "John?"
John didn't reply but continued his ragged breathing as though he had forgotten how to breathe properly.
"John? What's wrong?"
"Panic… Attack." John said through gasps of air, looking up at Sherlock . He was clutching his chest and his hands were shaking.
Sherlock's eyes widened and he gazed upon his friend.
"It was just a dream. Please John. Take a deep breath."
John tried but failed. He was still holding his chest and his breathing was faster and more erratic now.
"Try to think of something else." Sherlock suggested, scooting closer to John and grabbing his shoulder. "Look at me, John. It's alright now."
John's desperate eyes found Sherlock's and they stared at one another. John was frantic, not able to catch a breath. Sherlock looked around wildly for some way to help his friend but found nothing.
"Shhhh John." Sherlock was loosing his composer and closed his eyes, shushing John all the wile. He then opened his eyes and whispered, "It's okay." And grabbed John's face with both of his hands and pulled him in. He kissed him, flat on the lips. John grabbed Sherlock's waist to balance himself and sank into the kiss. Their lips exploring each others almost desperately.
They broke apart and Sherlock stared into John's dark grey eyes, still clutching his face in his hands. John's breathing was normal now and his eyes had lost their wild look.
"H-how did you do that?" Stuttered John sounding dazed.
"I read in a medical journal that holding your breath can stop a panic attack." Sherlock began, letting go of John's face but not breaking his gaze. "So when I kissed, you… you held your breath."
"I did…?" John asked, in mild amazement.
"Yes." Sherlock said, now dropping his gaze to the floor and straightening a crease on his robe.
"Wow. That… that was really smart." John remarked, crossing his legs into a more comfortable position.
"It's nothing, just something that I read and the mechanics behind it are quite simple-"
John sat forward until he was almost nose-to-nose with Sherlock. They locked eyes and Sherlock trailed off.
"Stop talking now." John said softly, still only inches away from Sherlock's lips. "I would like to kiss you again."
