Sherlock hadn't looked at the clock but he knew that only an hour passed since John had fallen into normal sleep. Sherlock hadn't slept or even tried to. He had just listened to John's quiet breathing in the darkness. He was surprised to find that it was comforting to him after seeing John in such distress. But every time John stirred the slightest against him Sherlock was on the alert. Each time he had found that John was still asleep.

Sherlock had thought about the episode that John had earlier. It had been too intense to be a normal nightmare and after a second of contemplation he had arrived at the correct conclusion. John had a night terror most likely brought on by post traumatic stress. Night terrors were common enough in those who suffered from the condition but he had never been aware that John suffered from PTSD. Everything he saw indicated that John thrived on danger. But something about this night had been different; there was something else Sherlock didn't see yet.

John began to stir and Sherlock could feel John's heart rate elevating and hear his breathing increase and knew that John was not as restful as he had been. Sherlock started to rub John's back again "Its alright John. You're fine. You're safe," he whispered.

"Dark…can't see…help," John whispered, growing more fidgety. "Dark…dark…help."

Sherlock realized with a start that John was afraid of the darkness and quickly turned on the light again. He should have known better. John must have had the light on for a reason. He'd obviously been troubled before and had slept with it on.

"Dark…so dark…" John didn't seem to know that the light was on just like he didn't seem to know anything else that was going on. "Can't see…can't see…"

"John, the light's on. You can see. Open your eyes. John, open your eyes," Sherlock said trying to reassure John. He hoped that eventually what he was saying would get through to John. People were often highly suggestible in their sleep so he hoped that by telling John to open his eyes eventually he would do just that. But he didn't.

He didn't seem to hear anything that Sherlock was saying and he was growing more and more anxious by the minute. But Sherlock kept talking to him hoping that he would come out of his terror. "Just relax."

John wasn't screaming like he had before but he was struggling quite a bit. He suddenly pushed away from Sherlock and grabbed his shoulder and gritted his teeth. His face was twisted in pain and he was fighting the urge to scream. It was the shoulder he said he had injured in Afghanistan. He must be dreaming about that injury.

Sherlock reached out and began rubbing John's shoulder. John flinched at first and let out a small cry of pain but he relaxed a little. Sherlock knew that John's shoulder wasn't injured but he did feel the tension that was there. John's muscles were knotted up in stress. Sherlock took one of his hands and put it on John's other shoulder, kneading away the knots. To his relief, something he was doing was finally working. John didn't act like he was in pain anymore and he was relaxing under Sherlock's hands. Sherlock spent a while working out the knots on John's shoulders and neck and on his back. John was quiet and becoming more and more relaxed. It felt good to find something that appeared to be a solution and Sherlock was glad he had studied up on the subject once.

Sherlock was hopeful John was asleep and was just about to stop when, all of a sudden, John started sobbing uncontrollably. Sherlock was so taken back by it that he froze for a second. Crying made Sherlock uncomfortable to say the least. It didn't make any sense and he never knew what to do when people were doing it. And John wasn't just crying; he was sobbing. Sherlock had never seen John cry and it bothered him. Sherlock felt something bubbling in his chest, like liquid bubbling up in a test tube, threatening to spill over. He realized that it was panic.

This night was threatening to overwhelm him. Having to watch John suffer this range of extreme emotions was almost becoming too much for Sherlock. He always ran from emotions and he was tempted to do so now. He wouldn't have stayed even this long for anyone else. So, what was he doing here still? He thought about leaving and returning to safety of the living room where he could escape far into his mind again and be alone. After all, John didn't even know Sherlock was here.

No, he told himself. He would not give into this silly emotion. He would not allow it control him in any way. Sherlock Holmes didn't panic. And he couldn't leave John for some reason anyway. The sobbing made him uncomfortable but something wouldn't let him leave. It didn't matter that John didn't know he was there or not. John couldn't help it; Sherlock knew he would never act this way if he were conscious. He couldn't imagine the dark world that John was in that caused him to be in such agony. Logic told Sherlock that none of this was real. Nothing that John was seeing or feeling was real so it didn't matter. But Sherlock knew better than that; it was real for John and that was all that mattered at the moment.

Sherlock just couldn't turn his back on John. He knew why it was; John was special. It sounded so sentimental and he would never admit it to anyone but it was true. Until he had met John he had not know what that nagging feeling deep in his soul had been. He had always ignored it, knew it was an emotion of some kind, and had pushed it farther down, never bothering to identify it. It wasn't until John had shown up and chased it away that Sherlock knew what it had been; He had been lonely. It didn't happen often. Sherlock was a solitary man and he liked it that way. Most of the time. He hadn't felt lonely often but it was there. Before John.

Sherlock had known right away that there was something different about John. The moment he had seen him he was curious about him. This was a man he wanted to know. That didn't often happen with Sherlock. People were so ordinary, so boring, that they rarely ever peaked his interest. John was ordinary of course, but he was not boring. Sherlock could see right away, this was a man who liked danger, who thrived on it. Against his better judgment, Sherlock had felt hopeful. Maybe this was someone who wouldn't run away from the unusual life that he lived. And even more alarmingly, he found that he wanted John to find him interesting too.

John hadn't run away in terror when he had met Sherlock which was rare. Sherlock remembered that first day they had met and being worried that John would not show up the next day to look at their flat at 221B. Sherlock had made a full and revealing deduction about John within minutes of meeting him. He had figured it was best to get it over with. Most people were turned off by it and he just wanted to find out what kind of person John Watson really was. When John had shown up that next day Sherlock had been pleased. Still, he had never expected more than a flat mate. Sherlock had been only hoping to find someone who could stand to live with him. He had not expected that John would become his partner on cases. He had never expected to make a friend.

Sherlock had never thought he would have someone who cared like John seemed to. Someone who pestered him to take care of himself and eat and sleep. Someone who could tell when something was bothering him. Someone who actually liked hearing his deductions. Someone who could actually tell when Sherlock was lying. He had never thought he would have wanted those things but he found that he enjoyed it.

Even after the excitement of that first case, which had proved that John was different than anyone Sherlock had ever known, Sherlock still kept waiting for it; waiting for John to leave. Everyone did. Eventually, Sherlock did or said something that made people leave. The people that were still in his life were the ones that didn't know him well. But as the weeks turned into months Sherlock realized that John wasn't going to leave him. He knew he was difficult to live with but John put up with it. And Sherlock wasn't going to turn his back on John the first time that he was being difficult. John followed Sherlock into danger without a second thought and Sherlock owed him the same. If he had to stay up until the sun came up then that's exactly what he would do.

John was still sobbing. It was times like these that reminded Sherlock that he did, in fact, have a heart, because the sound of John's sobs was doing something to it. He tuned John towards him and held him closer. "Its alright John. Its alright."

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," John said through his tears. "I didn't mean to."

What was going on inside John's head? He didn't know if John could hear him or not but he tried whatever he could to console his friend. "I know John. Its alright."

"I'm so sorry."

Sherlock knew that there was still a lot about John's past that he did not know. Somehow this night was connected to a memory of John's military career which Sherlock didn't know much about. He knew that most men who had served in the military did not like to talk about their time spent there once they were out and John was no exception. John never brought it up and Sherlock didn't ask. Sherlock had always assumed that if John wanted to talk about it he would; he did make a habit of making himself heard when he wanted to talk about something. But now he wished he knew a little bit more about the life that John had lived before they met.

John cried for a long time and Sherlock realized there was nothing he could say that could console him. Eventually, John calmed down though Sherlock could tell he was still distressed.

Sherlock thought about how John liked to hear him play the violin. John hadn't said as much but Sherlock could tell. When John was stressed and Sherlock started playing he could see that his breathing slowed and the frown lines on his forehead disappeared. He knew that it made John feel better. John became stressed a lot so Sherlock had observed this on more than one occasion. Sherlock wished that he was able to play now but that was out of the question with John still in his arms, still gripping him for dear life.

So, Sherlock began humming a song that he was pretty sure was John's favorite. He had noticed that John seemed to smile a little every time he played it. And to Sherlock's surprise it seemed to help. John seemed to relax in his arms and Sherlock could tell he was on his way to normal sleep again. His face was still red and covered in tears so Sherlock used the edge of sheet to brush away the tears.

The night began to catch up with Sherlock. His arm, which he had forgotten about, was now burning from the exertion he had put it under. The scratches on his hands also didn't feel too good either. They had blood crusted on them and Sherlock couldn't help smiling a little. He had to give it to John; he was a heck of a fighter even in his sleep. The case, his injured arm, and the stress of the night with John was taking its toll on Sherlock and he felt the fatigue that didn't often visit him. He knew that John was sleeping normally now and he hoped there would not be another incident. He hummed the song over and over again until he also fell asleep.

Aww, I love a caring Sherlock because I think he does care more than he lets on. Thanks to all of you who are reading, following and favoriting. Also, thank you for the reviews-they make my day! One more chapter to come.