Thanks to AGirloftheSouth for looking over this for me!
I do not own, nor do I profit from.
It was four in the morning. 221B was dark and quiet as John Watson slept. Peaceful dreams smoothed any worry lines normally seen during waking hours. Sherlock Holmes lay next to him and silently studied his partner.
It was amazing how John was a mixture of strength and caring. Always ready to kill when necessary, yet so willing to forgive when wronged by others. Two of the many things Sherlock appreciated about his friend. Friend...a word he'd never used before John came into his life and even now Sherlock wondered at being able to use the word in relation to himself.
Once he had realised the worth of John, Sherlock had been afraid of being too much. Too loud, too obnoxious, of holding on too tightly and of being too dangerous. He had tried to distance himself but quickly found John followed. He would even seek Sherlock out. And not because of what Sherlock could do for him but because he enjoyed Sherlock himself. Even when he left in frustration he always came back. Back to Baker Street, their home.
The detective knew John was a mystery he would never completely solve. He was different from any person Sherlock had ever met before. He trusted Sherlock when no one else would and had faith when others did not dare. John believed.