One shots (johnlock fluff mostly)

A fear of the dark (part 2)

Sherlock writhed in his sleep, squirmed against the blood that clouded his vision, his heart was breaking, and he felt as though he was dying. John lay on the floor. A pool of his own blood around him, draining the life out of him, the fire that burned in those icy eyes now dimming. Dead. Gone. Lost.

Sherlock tried to sit up, trapped by an unknown weight. Panic.

"Sherlock?" A voice whispered into the darkness, close to him. Sherlock forced his eyes open. John.

"Are you okay?" John asked, studying Sherlock and how he was shaking beneath his arm. Scared?

Sherlock felt himself wrack with sobs, quiet but loud in the silent flat. His heart still aching from the dream, like a burning knife had been pressed through it and quarterized the wound causing pain but nothing that would kill him. Agonizing pain.

Johns hand left Sherlocks side and wrapped around him, holding him close, "hey, it's okay, Sherl" John whispered, his other hand under Sherlocks head and messing gently with his sleep tousled curls.

"I dreamt I lost you, I can't have that please no I can't-- lose you" Sherlock stuttered, scared of what his mouth might say, what his tired brain thought, he felt delusional. But he also felt caring and love for John. He loved John.

"It's okay, I'm here see, Sherlock open your eyes" John commanded softly, soldier voice slipping through so that Sherlocks heart beat considerably fast. Love. Loss. Rejection.

Sherlock opened his eyes. Met with a burning blue, ice that scorched like fire but only showed passion now. Equality.

"Every good girl likes a soldier." Sherlock whispered, a small chuckle escaping his lips as a blush crept along his nose.

"It's sailor" John said with a small smile, tapping Sherlock on the nose making Sherlock blush deeper. Affection. Love. Care. Safety.

"You feeling sleepy love?" John asked. Mind so tired he barely registered what he'd said until it was too late. Failure. Rejection. Heartbreak.

Sherlock blushed again, but nodded anyway, he was tired, so so tired and he wanted to sleep but he was scared. Tired. Broken. Confused.

"Get some sleep yeah?" John whispered, hand on Sherlocks hip and trailing small patterns. Invisible. Felt. Touched. Loved.

"What time is it?" Sherlock yawned.

"4:32 am, still time for sleeping" John assured him.

Sherlock looked at him in pure affection. Too tired to hide himself away any longer. Leaned forward to see John leaning in too, quick, over in seconds but when their lips touched it felt like an eternity, like the world had stopped turning.

Sherlock pulled away looking ashamed, "sorry I-I'll go" he stuttered, rolling over and sitting on the edge of the bed, about to stand up. Rejection. Failure. Pathetic. Sentiment.

He felt a hand on his forearm and drag him backwards.

Sherlock made a muffled scream as he fell onto the bed on his back, John now leering over him, straddling him so that he squirmed. "I love you Sherlock, I always have" John breathed close to Sherlocks ear. Hope. Love. Sentiment. Good.

John pressed his lips to Sherlock. Harder than before. Teeth against soft flesh, Sherlock whimpered under him, a small quiet moan escaping his lips that were pressed against Johns.

They broke apart and John ran a hand up Sherlocks left ribcage, gently caressing it, stroking his hand over Sherlocks stomach and making him exhale a small giggle. Childlike. Ticklish. Cute. Adorable.