John heard his flatmate's yells and came running, pausing only momentarily outside the door to Sherlock's room when a sudden silence fell. Muffled noises that sounded suspiciously like sobs spurred him forward and he opened the door,
"Sherlock, what's wro-," and he stopped cold. The look of momentary terror on Sherlock's face cut John to the bone. He began to pull back, closing the door with him, "S-sorry, I thought something was wrong,"
Why did it hurt?
"No!" Sherlock flung a hand out and John immediately leaned back into the room, "No, John, please. I had a, it was a nightmare," big slate eyes looked pleadingly at his blogger and John hurried to Sherlock's side, pulling the still trembling man into a tight hug.
"Was it Moriarty again?"
"No…it was… you," Sherlock's voice was so small that John could barely hear it.
"Me?" John's heart twisted at the thought of causing any pain to Sherlock.
"John, I… Don't let me turn you into that. Don't… loose your light," Sherlock let his tears fall onto John's horrible nightshirt as he whispered into the strong chest.
"What are you talking about?"
"I don't want to… infect you," So quiet.
"Sherlock…" a smile pressed into damp curls, "You've already wormed your way into my whole being. I'm as infected as I'm going to get,"
Sherlock cringed but John plowed onward, "And I love every minute of it,"
John held Sherlock until the first rays of dawn pierced through Sherlock's curtains.