Sorry for the lack of updating, my computer kept crashing. Fortunately, I got a new one for Christmas :) hopefully I will be updating more frequently now.
Chapter 2
I wake up the next morning to find John's arms around me and I blush slightly, then pretend to be asleep.
"Sherlock...Sherlock don't. Sherlock!" John suddenly bolts upright in bed, almost knocking me off.
"John? John it's okay. I'm here." I say, confused, trying to fit the puzzle pieces together. But John. He's breathing strangely and occasionally he'll make a whimpering sound.
"John?" I ask again. He turns around this time, and his eyes are red and puffy.
"Sorry." he mutters, looking down and standing up. "Just a nightmare." I watch him as he pulls a black and white striped jumper over his head and turns around to face me.
"Sherlock, go get dressed. Don't you have a case?" he asks tiredly. I nod slightly, then jump up. I dash from the room. When I come back into the kitchen, John is making tea.
"Good morning Sherlock." He says cheerily. He's pretending last night and this morning didn't happen.
"John, what was your dream about?" I ask softly. He freezes.
"I don't know what you're talking about." he finally replies, unfreezing.
"Yes you do." I argue. John turns to glare at me.
"I don't want to talk about it." He says firmly.
"You said my name. I think I deserve an explanation."
"No. You really don't."
"John-"
"No!" he shouts suddenly, slamming his fists down on the table. I flinch.
"Why not?" I ask quietly.
"Because...because you wouldn't understand." John says, his anger leaving as quickly as it had come.
"I could try." I say, my becoming even more quiet. John sighs.
"I dreamed of you jumping. Off of St. Bart's." he finally says, pain evident in his voice. I fight back the urge to tell him how ridiculous it is to be worried about that, considering I'm back and alive and well.
"I'm sorry." I say instead, surprising even myself. "I knew that would be hard for you...I just maybe didn't realize how hard."
"Sherlock...did I just hear you apologize?"
"Oh shut up." I mutter, standing up and walking towards the door, pulling my scarf and coat on as I walk out. I hear him chuckle and follow me.
"You're impossible to figure out." He mutters.
"That's the idea." I reply. He laughs.
"Sherlock Holmes, you will be the death of me. Now let's go see about those murders."