I Am Offering This Scarf

Chapter 2- A Dip In The Duvet

//Okay guys, the last part was pretty dramatic. Throughout this part, John will be very confused, just bear with him.//

I sit up screaming in my bed. My face drips with sweat and tears that I hadn't known were falling. "Sherlock!" I scream. My hands grasp at the sheets and my toes curl.

I hear his violin stop playing. It was a sad version of the waltz played at me and Mary's wedding. I hear him running towards the room with his heavy footsteps. He stops before the door and slowly opens it to peer inside, uncertain.

"John?" He asks, switching on the light. His shadow is cast across the right half of the room.

I leap up out of bed and launch myself into his chest. The top of my head barely reaches his chin. I begin to unravel and my salty tears soak his shirt. He's my lifeboat in this ocean of suffering. Cheesy, I know, but I don't have anyone else. Mary's gone. My head is pounding, and it hurts more now that I'm bawling.

He wraps a single arm around my shoulders, now a familiar gesture. "John, it's okay..." He says quietly.

"No it's not!" I scream into his shirt, "I always think it's a nightmare when I first wake up...and then I remember..." I ball my fists into the back of his shirt. Royal Purple today. He looks good in purple. A stab of pain goes through my head and makes me flinch.

What am I saying?!

He's comforting me. Like he's had to for the past two years since it happened. I shiver and press my cheek to his warm chest.

I don't see why I can return so calm around him... Maybe...? No! I can't! My wife died! And our child along with her. 'Just died? It was two years ago Watson!' My mind taunts. I can't care about anyone else. I'm not over her. I don't think. I'm definitely not over what I saw. I shiver again as the images from the reoccurring nightmare/reality flash through my mind. I really need to start moving on.

"Cold?" He asks. He rubs his hand over one of my arms and steps back from me once I've settled myself.

I wipe my face with the insides of my palms and drop my hands to my sides. "I-I'm sorry. Again. I shouldn't have to burden you with this. You shouldn't have to deal with it."

He just shrugs as his eyes soften the smallest bit. He didn't mean for that to happen, for, a split second later, he returns to his normal Sherlock self. Trying to hide that he actually does express emotion.

"Would you like some tea?" He asks, straightening out his rumpled shirt and ruffling his black curls with his hand.

I blink. "Um, sure..." I reply, "Hey Sherlock?" I call down the hallway; he'd already rounded the corner.

He pokes his head around the wall. "Hmm?"

I scratch the back of my neck. "Sorry about the shirt. That's one of them that I actually liked." The last part is said under my breath but it's quite obvious that he hears; he smirks and shakes his head slightly as if dismissing the apology.

My migraine makes me dizzy but luckily it's starting to become just a low painful bloated feeling in my head. I close the door and turn around so I can get dressed and notice something I probably should have earlier.

I'm in Sherlock's bedroom.

Wait, what? At first I panic, but there's only one indent on the bed so we didn't sleep in the same bed. At least, I don't think we did. That would be bloody embarrassing.

I don't think I've ever been in his room before. Others have though. Drug busts you know...

I snoop around the room for some clothes to wear (all my clothes are still at me and Mary's house) and find a shirt and pants sitting on top of his chocolate brown dresser. On top of the clothes is a note from Ms. Hudson. Thank the heavens for that woman. Dunno what I'd do without her.