A/n: Hmmh. What do you think?
"Do come back for a bit, Watson; I don't much mind."
I looked away. "No, you're right; it's terribly childish of me, and--"
I choked as every item in the room expelled shadows that raced across the floor and up the bright walls—Holmes looked a phantom with jarring patterns of light and dark running across him.
Our eyes met uncertainly in the flickering gaslight following the lightning; I could not speak for the tightness in my throat.
When the thunder finished crashing, I opened my eyes to find that somehow my chin had come to rest on Holmes' shoulder, and my arms were around his thin back. He stiffened, tried to pull away--but I could not let go; I clung so tightly that I could feel his heart beating rapidly.
After some time he grew less stiff, and I felt one of his arm wrap around me, resting on my back. He spoke quietly as I grasped the soft cloth of his dressing-gown in my spastic hands; I could not hear the words for the rushing of blood in my ears, but I heard his voice, rising and falling like waves on a beach.
Finally he stepped back from me, and met my gaze.
"All storms pass, Watson. I promise you; in the morning, it will be better."