"Oi! Sherlock, hurry up!" John yelled down the hall.
Sherlock appeared in his pyjama pants, a dark blue t-shirt, and his plaid dressing gown. He padded down the hall in his bare feet.
John snorted at the dressing robe, "You don't have to get dressed up for the movie you know? It's just us."
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Alright so you've got the popcorn and the blankets. I have got the jelly babies and the DVD."
Sherlock popped the movie into the DVD player and settled in on the couch next to John. They sat so close that there was no space between them. Sherlock's right arm wrapped around John's body and pulled him in even tighter.
"I'm not going anywhere, Sherlock." John nudged Sherlock's arm trying to loosen his grasp just a bit. It was nice knowing that he was there.
"I know," Sherlock replied with a small smile. He planted a kiss on John's temple. The consulting detective let his lips linger on John for a moment longer. John pulled away, the movie was starting and he didn't want to be distracted.
The pair turned towards the television screen. Sherlock's eyes, however, were focused on the mirror above the television, watching John's face. This was one of the only ways he could stand these movie nights. He found John's expressions and reactions to the movies much more interesting than the movies themselves.
It wasn't more than fifteen minutes into the movie that Sherlock felt John's body start to tense up. In the mirror Sherlock could see John's eyes widening, saw as he absently rubbed the spot where he had been shot in the shoulder. The ex-soldier's breath quickened and he jumped at each explosion. Sherlock tried to place a comforting hand on John's shoulder, but the man shied away from that as well.
"Alright, John," Sherlock said as he reached for the remote and turned it to some trash reality show where strangers lived in a house together, "that's enough of that." He couldn't bear to see John like that.
"Sherlock, really, I am fine," John said not sounding even the least bit convincing. Sherlock could still feel John tensed up against him.
"We both know that's not true, John." Sherlock placed a gentle kiss on John's forehead. "Besides, I have the remote." He held up the controller and used his long arms to place it out of John's reach.
John sighed; his body relaxing a bit as he did so, and nuzzled against Sherlock's should to settle in for an evening of trash TV. Sherlock made it more interesting by deducting what he could about each contestant.
Later that evening:
John's dreams that night were interrupted by the first nightmares in months, which was to be expected. John's screams shattered the silent night. Sherlock was there, he pulled John close to him, trying to comfort the man. John, body still tensed up by the nightmare, rested his head on Sherlock's chest, listening to the consulting detective's slow, steady heartbeat. Sherlock's long fingers stroked John's hair, only pausing to place a kiss or two on John's head, "My brave, stupid soldier."
The End