Xenophobia – an irrational fear of foreigners or strangers…
No slash – just friendship
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, John et al – that privilege belongs to ACD, Moffat and Gatiss
Sherlock lay on his bed, listening to the man in the room upstairs muttering in his sleep. Another nightmare maybe? He could hear him calling out, warning someone – who? Putting his book down he sat up and strained to hear.
"No….no….you can't let them in! You don't know them, they might…." What they might or might not do was lost. Sherlock rose and pulled his blue silk dressing gown on over his jersey pyjama bottoms, intending to go and wake his flatmate.
Creeping up the stairs he heard more frantic shouts now – warning someone against letting the strangers in. He paused outside John's door, unsure. This didn't sound like his usual war-related nightmare. Uncharacteristically undecided Sherlock stood there a while longer, until he realised that the shouts had quietened back down to muttering, and John no longer seemed to be thrashing about.
Returning to his room he lay back down on top of his bedcovers contemplating the ceiling.
A short while later a different sound disturbed the silence, the sound of bare feet padding down the stairs to the kitchen. Sherlock rose again and walked softly out of his room to stand in the doorway, watching his friend make a cup of tea.
"John? You okay?" he asked quietly
"Yeah, okay." The doctor confirmed, smiling slightly. "Go back to your book."