It was somewhere between midnight and morning the next day when Sherlock was woken by a thud and a scream. Watson. He threw off his blanket and dashed down the hall to her room. She sat on the floor next to her bed in a tangle of sheets, dazed and crying.
"Watson. What's happened? Did someone break in?"
She sniffled, shaking her head. Sherlock stood in the doorway, hesitant. He took one step forward.
"You fell out of bed. I expect you might have been experiencing trauma as a result of your attack? It's very common. Over 46,000 people-"
She began to sob, her head in her hands. The cast on her ankle made her look particularly pitiful.
"I don't cry in front of anyone. Don't look at me like that."
Sherlock took another tentative two steps forward. He produced a tissue from his pocket and held it out to her, crouching.
"A dream?"
She took the tissue and blew her nose, nodding. He looked at her, eyes soft.
"I'm so sorry Watson."
He thought for a minute and reached for her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and he lifted her up. She winced as he placed her back in bed, she was calmer now. They had beaten her again in her dream but this time she had been dying.
He got into bed beside her, pulling the covers over both of them. She was trembling. He stroked her hair.
"Don't be upset, Watson. You're safe."
Her back was to him, he put an arm over her, gently pulling her closer.
He found her hand in the half dark, threading his fingers through hers, their hands resting on her stomach.
"Don't be afraid."
She felt the terror recede. She squeezed his fingers. He kissed her cheek, gave a sleepy sigh and burrowed into her hair. She fell back to sleep, feeling the steady beat of his heart on her back. Joan had no more nightmares, Sherlock stopped sleeping anywhere else. He didn't want her falling out of bed again, it would only hinder her recovery- he told himself this was simple logic. It had nothing to do with the drifting off holding the slight warmth of her and the reassuring floral scent of her sheets.
She was rearranging the flowers that Gregson and Bell had brought that morning in a vase in her room when Sherlock brought up dinner- soup in a mug with a bread roll.
"No bowls again?"
He imitated the picture of innocence as best he could.
"I was going to tidy up a bit but I was otherwise diverted."
She scoffed and took the mug, savouring the hot warmth of the soup. She had begun to feel the effects of trying to recoup without strong pain killers.
"A case?"
"No, it's been a quiet week and I've…been busy."
She looked down, busy with her, she assumed.
He had had to help her button a shirt yesterday and had turned the most adorable shade of bright pink she'd ever seen. She might have teased him a little bit by sighing and stretching her neck, moving her collarbone ever so slightly closer to his face. She couldn't help it; he was so endearing when flustered. He couldn't get out of the room fast enough.
She changed the subject.
"You still up for a movie here later?"
He made a face.
"Are you asking that I sit still for two hours?"
"Sherlock. You promised. You've never seen The Man Who Knew Too Much. Classic Hitchcock! You brought my DVDs out of storage for a reason, right? Now you're telling me you won't watch one with me? Come on. You're on popcorn detail."
"So called "thrillers". Asinine at best. Boring at worst."
He gave a dramatic sigh. But he hummed happily as he went down the stairs.
He settled in the bed beside her, placing the bowl of popcorn in her lap. She threw some blankets over them and pressed play. She looked at him and grinned.
"You'll figure out the plot in ten seconds. But just try to enjoy it- ok?"
He gave a begrudging smirk, defenceless against her enthusiasm.
She ignored it, sat back and linked arms with him, excited.
Later, she grabbed his hand just as the gun inched towards the little boy's head. He stiffened, turning to look at her profile. She was completely absorbed in the movie, the light from the TV flickering across her face. Her hair fell tousled and easy over her shoulders, her lips had healed and bruises faded. He swallowed and shoved popcorn into his mouth, impressed by Hitchcock's camera movement and his keen eye for symmetry in the composition of his frames. He stole another glance at Watson. Her face had symmetry. It was also somewhat reminiscent of princesses in traditional Asian art. Hm.
She fell asleep on his shoulder. He got up and turned the TV off, crawling into bed beside her in the moonlight, lifting her head to place a pillow beneath it. She must be in pain but she never said anything. He tried not to remember her on the step outside before the ambulance came that night. He took her hand, noting how small it was, turning it over to examine the ring he'd bought for her. She hadn't taken it off since the hospital. He ran a thumb over it, unsettled- he wasn't used to feeling protective. When he looked up her eyes were open. She had a funny look on her face; she was looking at him pointedly with- he didn't know this look. His eyes widened. She put her hand on his.
"I'm in love you Sherlock Holmes."
She stated this the same gentle way you'd tell a child that Easter was always on a Sunday. Her eyes told him she meant it. She held his gaze for a second, touched his cheek lightly and turned over in the bed. She didn't expect him to respond. Sherlock's jaw dropped. He staring at the ceiling- petrified.
When he could look at the ceiling no more, and when he was certain she was asleep, he watched the shadow patterns of backlit leaves from the oak tree outside their window as they danced across her hair. But he was really watching her, knowing he hadn't misheard no matter how much he tried to convince himself. The panic didn't fade, exactly, but the strange, warm glow of being loved tugged one corner of his mouth imperceptibly upwards. The tides of her breathing lulled him to sleep.
One more chapter left, I promise! What do you think Sherlock is going to do? He can't run from this one gracefully when morning comes. Will Joan regret it? As always, a big thanks for reading! And I'd love to hear what you think so shout in my general direction with any thoughts (good or bad :) ) . Til next time, friends! x