Well hello! First of all I wanted to say thank you to the people who followed me for their follow :'). Annnnd here will still be johnlock in this chapter and there will be spoken of some traumatic events.

If some things are a little out of character, I'm sorry! Oh and yes like I said before, school has started blah blah blah so you may have to wait a little while for the next chapter, but I promise I'll do my best to catch up soon! Enjoy!

(by the way i have no idea where i'm going with this story so i'll just surprise myself)

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson had made their way upstairs. John had made them some tea and now they had settled themselves on the sofa. John curled up against Sherlock, his head resting on his friends chest. Sherlock with his arm around John, stroking his hair softly with his hand.

Like that they sat there for minutes, saying nothing, only enjoying each others presence.

John still couldn't believe that his friend had actually returned, that he was actually laying on his chest that was moving up and down calmly and that they had actually just kissed and Sherlock actually felt the same for John as John felt for Sherlock.

He also knew that they had a lot to talk about, and that one of them had to say something at some point. But none of them wanted to end the silence, and both of them wished the moment could last forever. Everything seemed to be okay like this. Sherlock listening to Johns breathing pattern and John utterly relaxed because of the feeling of Sherlocks hand stroking his hair.

And after an amount of time that should've been hours, both the detective and the doctor fell fast asleep. Save in each others arms.

"Goodbye, John."

Again John saw his friend jump, saw him falling all the way down. Again he heard the sound of cracking bones when he hit the pavement hard. Again he saw his lifeless body laying there, his eyes that had once been so bright and alive now dead staring into nothingness.

John wanted to scream, he wanted to cry and go crazy, but he couldn't move. He just stood there, only being able to watch as paramedics arrived at the scene and drove his best friend away.

He noticed he could move now. He could speak again.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!"

"SHERLOCK!"

"John! Wake up, can you hear me? Wake up, you're dreaming!"

John slowly came back to reality. The first things he noticed were two hands on his face, and two concerned eyes staring at him. Then he noticed he was still lying on the sofa and his heart was beating unbelievably fast. Slowly the memories of his dream started to come back, followed by the things that had happened the night before. He looked out of the window. It was still mostly dark outside, but the sky was slowly turning from black to grey and John figured that it had to be early in the morning.

Sherlock noticed his friend had woken up and continued "John, are you okay? What were you dreaming of?". John clearly heard the concern in his voice.

While holding his friends face in his hands, Sherlock took a good look at John. He noted his reaction to the dream he just had. Clearly one he had had before. Multiple times before. Obviously something involving him. John had never had disturbing dreams when he had lived with Sherlock, so this had begun when he had been gone. He also saw his bloodshot eyes. Sleep deprivation and constant tiredness. Judging Johns skin Sherlock noted a lack of vitamins, and a lack of food in general, what was obvious because of the amount of weight John had lost.

The detective was pulled back to reality by Johns voice, which was sounding very awake now.

"Sher-Sherlock, it was you. It was you again. You were falling. I-I couldn't stop you. You were dead again and I saw you laying there all over again and…" His voice broke and John just couldn't hold it any longer. He had hardly ever cried in his life, but now he completely broke down. It was like all the sadness and loneliness he had felt in the past eight months all came out at once and now he was sobbing like he would never stop.

At the sight of his best friend like this, Sherlock experienced a feeling he had never experienced before that could only be described as absolutely horrible and he felt so angry with himself because of leaving John like this for so long without saying a word. Without telling his friend a thing. Not even being sure if he would ever see him again.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around his friend tightly. At first he wasn't sure that was what John wanted, but he immediately responded to Sherlocks touch by clinging onto him in dear life and sobbing into the detectives shirt that was soaked by his tears in seconds. Sherlock placed his head on Johns, which made the doctor feel safe.

"It's okay. I'm not leaving you anymore. It will all be fine. You will be fine. We will be fine."

John slowly started to calm down by Sherlocks words and touch. He noticed how tight he was holding onto Sherlock and he loosened his grip. It struck him that his friend may be thinking of him as an over-sensitive idiot right now and felt slightly ashamed.

As if Sherlock had read his mind he said "It's fine, John. Let's go to bed. This sofa isn't the most comfortable place to sleep." , his words followed by a little smile. John nodded and they both stood up. He honestly didn't want to. He didn't want to go to his own bed by his own. He wanted to sleep next to Sherlock where he felt safe, but he didn't want to bother his friend by asking him if he could sleep in his room, he wasn't a child anymore after all.

But Sherlock noticed this as he always did and grabbed Johns arm, pulling him to his room.

Sherlock and John fell asleep, curled up next to each other, listening to each others breathing and feeling each others warmth.

None of them had a single nightmare that night.