Blood. There was blood all over his hands. He pressed harder at the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything other than watch the man he was supposed to save bleed out in front of him. He couldn't stop it. Couldn't save him. Couldn't...

The dream faded. John felt someone's hand in his hair. He let the touch relax him as he tried to forget the nightmare. In some part of his brain, he was still holding the bloodsoaked gauze to a man's leg, trying to stop the bleeding. John never lessened his grip on the blanket.

John only half noticed when the cloth he was clutching turned into hands. Cold, spidery fingers gently moving the blanket away. He didn't notice the bed dip as Sherlock slid under the covers, he just missed the absence of those hands on his. Then, they were back, snugly fit between his fingers, cool palms to sweaty palms.

Wait, hands? Long, thin fingers? John blinked his eyes open sleepily and came face to face with a sleeping Sherlock. He wondered what to do. Should he wake him up and tell him to get out of his bed? Sharing a bed was not normal flatmate behavior. Sherlock, however, was not a normal flatmate. He also considered the fact that he hadn't seen Sherlock sleep once during the time he knew him, and if John woke him now, who knows when he would sleep next. On a more practical note, it was always colder in John's room for some reason, and Sherlock made his bed nice and warm. As long as he didn't steal the blankets, he could stay.

Reviews? I'm considering this part B of chapter 1. Should I continue in both points of view? Just Sherlock? Just John? Opinions really help me, I'm a first time fic writer, and I've got no idea what to do here.