I figure this should have a trigger warning. Just to be on the safe side.
Chapter 15
The whole scene around him was blurry. John tried his hardest to focus on his surroundings, but to no avail. He had just woken up, tied to the uncomfortable chair, rope cutting into his skin where his hands were bound. Tears began to stream down his face.
Suddenly, there was a flurry of noise and movement in front of him. A flowing black coat swooped over his captor, and John just knew it was Sherlock. Attempting to cry out to his friend, John became more and more hopeful that maybe he would be saved. Sherlock fought the opponent until he seemed unconscious. The detective stood for a moment, then walked over to John, who was thrashing in his bindings with what little energy he had left.
Before Sherlock could take three steps, an ear piercing bang echoed through the room. John watched in horror as Sherlock fell to the ground, followed by a shower of skull fragments. Blood and gore flowed out of the horrendous hole in chunky rivers. John looked in horror as his flatmate, his best friend lay dead on the ground staring up with his beautiful grey eyes. Beautiful, dead eyes. John let out a throat tearing shout and screamed Sherlock's name over and over. No reply.
A violent shaking woke John from his sleep, and he looked up into a pair of beautiful, alive, grey eyes. Sherlock was holding his shoulders, an extremely concerned look on his face.
"John, are you okay? Are you okay?" the detective asked hurriedly.
John's face was covered in sweat and tears. "Sherlock, oh god. Oh god," he tried to speak, but was cut off with a heavy sob. Sherlock didn't let go of John's shoulders, but his grip softened a little bit.
"Are you okay John?" Sherlock asked again. John nodded. Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed.
"You were shouting and screaming. My name mostly, so I came to check on you. When I came in, you were thrashing about, shouting and crying madly. What happened?" Sherlock questioned with genuine concern, his eyes fixed on his flatmate.
John sat up and buried his face in his hands. "Just… nightmares, I'll be fine though," he replied, his voice sounding strained.
"No you won't. Judging by your actions, you must have been experiencing quite a horrendous nightmare. Talking about it will most likely help you to rationalise the thoughts and reduce the risk of having the nightmare again. Trust me John." Sherlock looked his friend dead in the eye.
John sighed heavily. He knew Sherlock was right. "Okay, fine. I was back in that place, and you came in and started to fight the kidnapper, and when you came over to get me, you were shot and part of your head was blown apart. Then I looked into your eyes and watched you bleed out," he explained, tears threatening to fall down his already wet cheeks.
Sherlock's eyes had widened a bit, not daring lo look away from John. He felt a drop in his chest after hearing John's experience, and couldn't explain why he himself was getting a bit emotional.
"I see, well, you don't have to worry about that anymore. You're out now. This is what's real, and you are home safe. And though me being shot is a plausible situation, I'm not stupid enough to let it happen. Don't worry about it," Sherlock reassured.
John met his gaze properly, "can you promise that it won't happen though?"
"I can't promise, but I will try my hardest," Sherlock replied, not breaking eye contact. This made John smile a little. A little flutter in Sherlock's chest took him by surprise. He was getting emotional, though he wouldn't admit it. There was something inside him that wanted to lean forward and take his friend into a reassuring embrace. Of course, he tried to suppress the urge.
Sherlock stood and placed his hand on John's shoulder gently. "Come, I'll get a bath started for you. Take some time to calm down," he smiled. With a quick turn he walked to the bathroom.
John could hear water running, and when he entered the bathroom, Sherlock had already left. A smile crept onto his face as he waited for the bathtub to fill. It was strange that Sherlock was being so comforting and concerned, but it was good to know that he cared.
After he had finished his bath, John walked back into Sherlock's room to find a set of clean clothing folded neatly on the end of the bed. A pair of boxer shorts, a t-shirt and John's bathrobe. Obviously Sherlock had meant for John to be dressed comfortably.
Once he had dressed, he grabbed his cane and limped into the living room, where a fresh cup of tea was waiting on the coffee table next to his chair. John sat down, and Sherlock looked up from where he was sitting on his own chair. John glanced at the clock and noticed that it was four in the morning.
"Uhh, thanks," John said, sipping out of the cup. Sherlock stood up and walked across to the other coffee table to grab something, and returned to his seat. He held the object out to John.
"I thought you didn't want me to read that?" John queried. Sherlock shrugged.
"It doesn't matter," the detective replied. John took the book from the outstretched hand and opened it. He read a few pages and came across another loose page.
John smiled and read a part of it out loud. "A few of my things went missing today. My microscope, book and an experiment I was doing. Me and Alexander found them in Mycroft's room. He gave me back my stuff and told me that playing with smurfs is immature. I was using it for an experiment. Mummy said I couldn't have any acid because she was afraid I might put it on him," he read, chuckling a little at the last part.
"So you were going to pour acid on Mycroft because he nicked your smurf?" he laughed.
Sherlock smirked a little bit. "He would have deserved it," he replied in a slight chuckle.
Both men laughed. They sat up and read from the old casebook until sunrise, laughing at the things Sherlock had written about school and especially the things he wrote about Mycroft. Occasionally, Sherlock would get up and make them some tea, whilst John continued reading aloud from the book. John had nearly forgotten about his earlier nightmare, and Sherlock was enjoying himself thoroughly. It was good to be almost back to normal again.