A/N: Just so you know, this takes place before the fall.


John Watson was proud of himself. And for good reason.

He had managed to convince Sherlock Holmes to lay down, at night, to sleep until morning.

John lay in bed, reading one of those cheesy mystery novels Sherlock so hated.

Sherlock had been in bed over an hour now, and so he was probably now asleep.

I probably ought to follow his example if I want to keep up with him tomorrow...

Sherlock with even more energy?

That would be terrifying.

John set his book down and turned off the lamp beside his bed off, before checking to make sure the alarm on his phone was set. The last thing he wanted to do was come to work late. The glowing screen stared back at him until he turned it off, setting it beside his bed.

He drifted off to sleep imagining a well rested Sherlock.

It could either be terrible (him bouncing off the walls even more than normal) or it could be wonderful (Sherlock less irritable and more focused than usual)

John was rooting for the latter, but guessing the first.


John woke up to the sound of a bed creaking.

Sherlock must be awake then. John thought. What time is it?

Three in the morning.

Not time to wake up yet.

John was about to get up and tell Sherlock to go back to bed, when he noticed that the creaking continued.

Tossing and turning then? Why?

John, unable to quench his curiosity, found himself getting up and out of bed, and walking down to check on him.

He tip toed down the hall and opened the door to Sherlock's room, to see his flat mate fast asleep on the bed.

But wasn't a peaceful sleep.

No.

On the contrary.

It was a fitful one.

Sherlock tossed and turned back and forth, muttering something.

Listening closely, John heard that Sherlock was calling his name.

"Sherlock?" John said uncertainly.

Is he starting to wake up?

No, Sherlock was still fast asleep.

As John got closer, Sherlock's breaths started to get shallower, faster, and more frantic. Sherlock started clawing at his neck, and it was then that John noticed the sheet twisted up around it.


The fabric tightened around his neck, cutting off his air slowly, but surely. Soon he wouldn't be able to breath at all.

Tighter, tighter...

Darkness laced his vision.

But John! What about John?!

How would Sherlock warn him about the man in the house if he couldn't speak?!

John might be hurt if he didn't, so how could he warn him?!

It was these thoughts that made rounds in his mind, until the darkness gave place to nothing at all.


"Sherlock," John said. "Come on mate, you've got to wake up. It's just a dream."

John reached out to touch Sherlock, and just his fingers brushed his shoulder, Sherlock's eyes opened and he shot up into a sitting position, gasping for breath.

He quickly grabbed the sheet that had entangled him throughout the night, and threw it away from him, backing up away from it. There was a fear in his eyes, a chaos that was unfamiliar to John. He'd seen it before, but not often.

"Sherlock, relax, it was just a dream!" John said. "You need to slow your breathing down now, you're hyperventilating."

Sherlock, after taking several deep breaths spoke.

"I'm fine. I- I'm fine." He scooted away from John a bit.

"I didn't know you got them too." John commented.

Sherlock adjusted himself to sit in a bit straighter posture and cleared his throat, regaining some of the dignity he had lost in moments before.

"I don't usually." He said quietly.

"What made it different this time?" John asked.

Because before, I didn't have anything to lose. Sherlock thought.

What came out his mouth was entirely different.

"Not sure, and doesn't really matter, now does it?" Sherlock said. "It'd probably be wise for you to return to bed, you have to go to the practice in the morning."

"Yeah, I guess so."


A/N: I hope you liked it!