Prompt: Two by two (Book girl fan)
My first thought was the song, "the ants go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah," which at least in Dr. Strangelove is used as an analogy for soldiers marching, and thus this happened.
Watson stirred, jarring me into awareness from what we had meant to be a brief respite after a long night afoot. The pale, late-rising winter sun peeked through the curtains, casting a thin beam through his tousled hair, across his smooth cheek, and down his chest to where it met the crumpled sheets. I could only count myself fortunate to awaken to such a sight, but it was not difficult to perceive that all was not well; his eyelids seemed to struggle frantically against the weight of sleep, and with a grunt, he made a sudden turn.
These things do not come naturally to me, but I would like to say that I have learned something over the years. I laid my hand gently upon my shoulder and whispered, my voice soft, "Watson. John, wake up. It is only a nightmare."
He struggled, and for an instant I prepared to restrain him before he damaged himself or me, and then with a sudden jolt, he awoke.
His eyes flew open and he pushed himself upright with a cry of, "Holmes! What is it?"
His chest heaved up and down with every fast, frantic breath, and as I took his wrist, I felt the pounding of his heart in the rush of blood just beneath the skin.
"There's nothing to worry about," I said, drawing him back onto the pillows, and he obliged.
He nodded, his senses returning as his breathing slowed to a more normal pace, and he lay back beside me on the narrow hotel bed. "Only a nightmare."
I wondered, but did not pry—I too was no stranger to nightmares of the past. Instead, I merely let my hand wander in what I hoped was a soothing motion, up his arm and across his soft, downy chest, slightly damp with sweat.
There he caught my hand in his, but his gaze remained far away. "It was hardly a nightmare; only marching, endless drills and unending miles across the desert…"
I ran my thumb across the back of his hand in a gentle caress. "I still at times dream of running laps in the yard."
He tightened his grip on my hand and then released it to massage at his wounded shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him closer that I might somehow alleviate the pains of decades past, and I believe I could perceive some measure of contentment as he lay against my chest.