What Friends Are For
Chapter 1/1
“John…” He heard the soft voice call out as the long, pale body next to him began to thrash. “John!” the voice cried out again, reaching toward the ceiling. He was fully awake now and reaching for Sherlock Holmes, his best friend and flat mate who couldn’t sleep if John wasn’t sitting nearby.
“Shh, I’m here, Sherlock,” he said softly, brushing the sweat dampened curls off of the other man’s forehead. “I’m right here.” Sherlock grabbed hold of John’s arm in a vice-like grip, eyes wide and staring. “What’s wrong?” Sherlock took several deep breaths, letting go of John’s arm as he calmed down.
“Nightmare,” he replied shortly. “I’m fine now.” John could feel the other man trembling beneath him, and he pulled the soft body into his arms.
“I know damn well you’re not fine,” John said. Sherlock responded by rolling his eyes. “You can talk to me about it, if you want to,” he offered, holding Sherlock close. Sherlock closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax into the comforting embrace.
“I dreamt that you had died, that Moriarty had killed you,” he whispered, beginning to tremble again. “But he didn’t stop with you; he killed Mrs. Hudson and DI Lestrade as well.” He was shaking violently now. “And he told me, ‘I told you, I’m going to burn the heart out of you’ and he laughed.” John felt tears land on his shoulder and he stroked Sherlock’s hair comfortingly.
“Well, he hasn’t killed any of us,” he said firmly, “and if I can help it, he won’t.” This had no effect on Sherlock, so John began to gently rock him back and forth, humming softly in his ear. Sherlock began to calm down again, wrapping his arms tightly around John’s waist.
“Thank you,” he said softly. John pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock’s forehead.
“That’s what friends are for.”
“Shh, I’m here, Sherlock,” he said softly, brushing the sweat dampened curls off of the other man’s forehead. “I’m right here.” Sherlock grabbed hold of John’s arm in a vice-like grip, eyes wide and staring. “What’s wrong?” Sherlock took several deep breaths, letting go of John’s arm as he calmed down.
“Nightmare,” he replied shortly. “I’m fine now.” John could feel the other man trembling beneath him, and he pulled the soft body into his arms.
“I know damn well you’re not fine,” John said. Sherlock responded by rolling his eyes. “You can talk to me about it, if you want to,” he offered, holding Sherlock close. Sherlock closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax into the comforting embrace.
“I dreamt that you had died, that Moriarty had killed you,” he whispered, beginning to tremble again. “But he didn’t stop with you; he killed Mrs. Hudson and DI Lestrade as well.” He was shaking violently now. “And he told me, ‘I told you, I’m going to burn the heart out of you’ and he laughed.” John felt tears land on his shoulder and he stroked Sherlock’s hair comfortingly.
“Well, he hasn’t killed any of us,” he said firmly, “and if I can help it, he won’t.” This had no effect on Sherlock, so John began to gently rock him back and forth, humming softly in his ear. Sherlock began to calm down again, wrapping his arms tightly around John’s waist.
“Thank you,” he said softly. John pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock’s forehead.
“That’s what friends are for.”