The screams are what wake me in the middle of the night. My first instinct is to turn and bolt, out the door, down the road, as far away as I can get. When you don't have a home or someone to protect you it's every man for himself, nobody can afford to be a hero where I'm from. So I don't understand why I stay, why I run as fast as I can to John's door, nothing to protect either of us is my hands, or why I'm prepared to die to help him. I have my hand of his doorknob when what I hear next stops me cold, "Sherlock! No… Don't, Sherlock!" His name is barely comprehensible behind John's sobs as I rush into the room. He's flailing in his bed and I know it's not safe to approach him.
"John? John, it was just a dream you need to wake up now!" I try not to shout to be heard over his screams. Finally after a few minutes he settles, he stops flailing and goes to a weak ball, still crying quietly. I know I can't leave him like this, I can only imagine what kind of hell his dreams are bringing him. So I do the only thing I can I quietly make my way to his bed and lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, my mother used to do that whenever I had a nightmare, until both her and my father died in a car crash. John finally stirs awake and gives a little start at seeing me by his bedside.
"How," He clears his throat and refuses to make eye contact with me, "how long have you been here?"
"Does this happen every night?"
"Long enough then," He clears his throat again and starts to get up, "yep, every night." He answers my question while leaving the room.
"It's the middle of the night, you should go back to sleep."
He snickers a bit at my worries, "Never get much anyway."
I had guessed that from the start, but to hear him say it so briskly, like he knew he never would, stung a little. He walks to the kitchen and grabs a mug, "I'm making tea, want some?"
"Sure" I sigh and fall into a chair, giving up on getting him to sleep. I watch him from where I'm sitting and notice that when he reaches into the cupboard he reaches around a single deep blue mug for a white one, same as all the others. Probably Sherlock's mug, I figure. I can't blame him for being so distressed, especially since it only happened a month ago, but it can't be healthy, to live like this. He walks to the fridge to get milk for the tea and I catch a glimpse of probably ten or so casseroles, "Who made all of those casseroles? I ask lightly, not putting too much hope into getting any.
"Mrs. Hudson" He replies and I catch his small smile of fondness for his landlady. "She couldn't go a day without taking care of me and-" He cuts himself off, realizing what he was about to say, refusing to speak his name, like it was a poison on his tongue. His face turns stony and I get the hint, waiting silently for the tea he was making. He finally finishes and carries the tea over to where I was sitting, handing me mine and walking back over to his chair.
"Thanks," I mutter as he sits down.
"So, Should we get started?" He asks, watching me from his spot.
"With?" I question, waiting for him to continue.
"The case, of course." He smirks.
"Shouldn't we wait until morning?" I say through suppressed laughter, it's probably three in the morning, and now he wants to work on the case?
"Well, why not? I'm not going to sleep, and you don't seem like you're planning on it."
"Where I'm from there's not much time to sleep, stay in one place for too long and you either get caught or stolen from. I've lost too much food to complete strangers while I sleep, so I got accustomed to not getting much." He frowns a bit at my statement, and I can tell he's deep in thought.
Finally I can tell he snaps back and he starts to chuckle, "Guess you won't be getting very much here either, will you?" He laughs a bit harder, "Sorry about that." He finally stifles his laughter and sets down his mug. I can't help but smile, he has got a point. At least here I'm safe, I add silently in my head. "Now, the question is, where to start." He emphasizes the last three words, talking more to himself than me.
"Well, I think it can at least wait until sunrise." I joke, but he knows I mean it.
"Yes, I suppose you're right." He sighs, standing. "I'll see in the morning."
"Goodnight John." I shout after him as he makes his way back to his room. Hopefully we'll both sleep soundly through the rest of the night.