She sobbed into her hands. Sherlock had never felt the need for physical contact, especially with women but he began to understand. That sometimes it wasn't about your need but the need of the people around you.
He slipped off the chair and onto his knees behind her, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her back into his lap. She fell back willingly and cried as Sherlock held her tightly. He stroked her hair with one hand and whispered to her reassuringly "I won't let him hurt you. He can't hurt you. You're safe." He was not only reassuring her but reassuring himself, he knew he couldn't promise such things.
Slowly she stopped crying and looked up at the man comforting her. He was looking at her, watching her. He moved his hand from her head and wiped away the tears softly. She closed her eyes as he rubbed her cheeks, a small smile creeping across her lips.
Sherlock lent down. "I think you should get some sleep."
She nodded her head "you should too" she mumbled.
"I know" he said, he didn't want to argue about how he didn't often sleep. It was much easier for him to lie, he could explain to her in the morning. "You can have my bed, I'll take the sofa." She frowned at him, pulling herself up.
"I'm fine on the sofa, you don't have to give up your bed." She muttered, she picked herself up and Sherlock did the same. He gestured his head towards the hallway, and she followed him past the kitchen (which was open, without a door). They came to a door at the end of the hallway which he opened an walked into, she stayed closely behind him.
The room was clean and neat unlike the other rooms in he apartment, the rooms she had seen anyway. It was decorated with white walls and a grey first wallpaper on the wall which the bed was pressed against. The furniture was wooden, so this was Sherlocks room.
She noticed him standing in front of her, holding a pair of silk pyjama bottoms and a white top.
"I assumed that you wouldn't want to sleep in your current clothes."
"You assumed right Sherlock" she said mockingly, taking the clothes out of his hand. She put the white top on the bed and pulled on the bottoms, she pulled the black dress over her head. Sherlock didn't have any time to register what was happened and found himself staring at Juliet who stood wearing his pj bottoms and a black strapless bra which emphasised the little boobs she had, he guessed she was a B.
He cleared throat and she blushed, picking the top up she rapidly pulled it over her head.
Sherlock couldn't believe how good she looked wearing his clothes. The bottoms were loose around her small waist and hung off her hips, she shirt was slightly baggy around her chest and waist.
"Good night Sherlock" she murmured, looking awkwardly at her feet.
"Good night Juliet." He walked out of the room, she exhaled and laid down on the bed, pulling the covers over her body and closing her eyes.
Hands were grabbing at me, pulling me in all directions. Like a rubber band I was ready to snap but soon after the pulling stopped and I was relieved as the pain stopped. My skin burns and I scream, the pain of hot metal frying my skin. I've been branded, like cattle, I've been branded across my chest. I'm hang from the ceiling and his evil smile brands me 'traitor' in bold letters, one at a time. I scream again as the hot metal meets my skin, I'm on fire.
Juliet opens her eyes to darkness, as claws a her chest as Sherlock bursts into the room.
He looks worried "what's wrong?" He asks quickly, scanning the room for intruders.
She breaths heavily, holding her skin tightly in her own hands. "It was nothing" she exhales.
He gives the look, raised eyebrow and piercing stare, the look you get when some one knows your lying.
Sighing, she gives in "nightmare" she mutters embarrassed that she had caused such a fuss. He nods at her and moves to sit next to her.
"Want to talk about it?" He says sympathetically and she shakes her head quickly before starting.
"I was chained up and he was branding me."
"What was he branding you?"
"TRAITOR right across my chest, one letter at a time. His smile wide like the Cheshire cats but more sinister, more evil."
"Is it the same dream?" He starts and pulls her hand off her chest and holds if softly against the mattress. She looks at him confused and he clarifies "Is it the same dream every time?"
"No, it could be anything but its alway him. He's always there" she muttered "sorry"
"Why would you be sorry?" He asks plainly, studying her green eyes.
"For screaming, for waking you up, for everything."
He sighed "you have no control of your dreams and your nightmares. And you could not possibly apologise for everything."
She stifled a laugh and looked at him, he had changed into a purple button up shirt that clung to the natural figure he had.
"Breakfast?" He asked and she nodded, following him to the kitchen.