Sherlock didn't respond as John climbed into bed, gently unbuttoning his pyjama jacket, removing it half-seductively, putting his hands inside it and letting it slide off of the taller man. He then removed Sherlock's socks, before clicking the lamp of and pulling him against himself, tucking them both into the duvet.

Sherlock kept himself still. He really wasn't very comfortable with this, but he didn't want to push John away. But when John nudged him to lie on his front in the dark and started to massage his back, Sherlock gave a small noise of discomfort.

"I am hardly torturing you, Sherlock" John's voice was commanding, though kind, compassionate and caring, as well. "I am not going to push, but you do need to get used to this. So I will massage you for a small while every night, alright? Gently, I promise. It will not hurt. We need to work on this". Sherlock nodded, but didn't verbally respond. He just lay there, taking it as John asked for this, his mind filling with images that was everything but pleasant.

For the second time in just a few days, John awoke alone. Sherlock's side of the bed was not only cold, but it didn't have that destinctive Sherlock-shaped impression he usually left on his side of the bed. Probably because he never moved much as he slept. John distinctly remembered them going to bed together, so why did it look like Sherlock hadn't slept there?

"Sherlock?" John called out, moving out a little warily from their bedroom after dressing, remembering the last morning he woke alone. But there were no such drama today. Sherlock sat in his chair, staring at his violin. He might not have needed as much sleep as a normal human being to function, but John knew him very well. And the genius hadn't slept at all. He was sure of it.

John walked up to him and knelt down before him, laying his hands gently on Sherlock's knees, only to blink in surprise as Sherlock violently jerked away from the touch. "Sherlock? What is wrong?!"

Sherlock pulled away, pulling his knees up. "Don't touch me any more, please. I don't want to" John frowned, confused. "Are you angry at me for last night?" The genius shook his head, mumbling, looking into the fireplace, though it was clearly not so much that as looking away from John. "I could never be angry at you".

"Then what...? Oh!" John's eyes softened into sympathy as he understood "you couldn't sleep, could you? I am so sorry. Did I bring back terrible memories? I am sorry Sherlock, it was never my intention to do that. I did not understand that it was so bad".

Sherlock merely nodded as a sign that he had heard, but John moved to stand behind him, gently stroking Sherlock's neck and hair, where he didn't mind the touches. He felt him relax fractionally. "I won't do it again" John offered. "We will find a better way".

Sleepless nights because of bad memories. We've all been there, hmm. All recognisable content belongs to its respective owners.

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