Work Text:
John woke up drenched in sweat with a bit of blood running down his chin. He cleaned it with the back of his hand and sat up. The silent tears were still wetting his eyes and cheeks. At this point, he didn’t even try to wipe them away. They were becoming an everyday thing anyway. Or if he was being technical, an every night thing. Nightmares and John weren’t strangers but John had only started crying after them in the last two years and the nightmare was always the same. Each night, as he slept, he held Sherlock in his arms and didn’t feel any heartbeat and every night he sobbed. Since Sherlock’s return, John had taught himself to cry silently and he would now unconsciously bite down on his lower lip which caused blood to run down his chin.
John sighed and got out of his bed. This had become a nighttime ritual since Sherlock had come back. He had tried stopping himself from doing it at first but now he knew he wouldn’t go back to sleep without it. The one night he tried to not go he had a panic attack and ended up going anyway. He softly padded down the stairs to Sherlock’s room because today they had solved a case and Sherlock always crashed after them.
John pushed the door open and the creaking sound it made echoed in the quietness of the night. Sherlock was lying on his back, arms and legs spread out. John could see his chest rising and falling which helped but it wasn’t enough. He needed to be able to feel his pulse. He only needed to feel it when John found Sherlock asleep because on other days Sherlock was usually moving around the flat and doing things just being alive. John padded into the room and gently placed his fore and middle fingers in the middle of Sherlock’s collarbones. He kept them there for a few seconds before turning away. The tears had stopped by now.
He was at the doorway when Sherlock whispered, “John?”
John turned around guilt and nervousness sending shivers through his spine. “I am sorry. I just needed to…”
“You just needed to see if I was alive.”
John took a deep breath, “yes.”
“Come ‘ere.”
Sherlock’s words were a bit slurred but still commanding so John went. He sat on the edge of Sherlock’s bed. Sherlock sat up too and moved closer to John. They stared at each other for a long moment and then Sherlock took John’s right hand by the wrist and placed it atop his heart. John could feel Sherlock’s heart beating calmly under his palm as opposed to John’s which was beating like an animal trying to break out of its cage.
“Not dead,” Sherlock whispered.
“No?” John hadn’t meant for that to be a question but for once Sherlock didn’t seem to mind repeating himself.
“No, not dead. I am right here.”
“Okay.”
John surprised himself when he removed his hand from Sherlock’s heart and moved closer to place his ear there. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John’s torso and John too hugged Sherlock’s waist. The moment should have felt surreal but it didn’t. Maybe it was the fact that it was night or maybe it’s because it was Sherlock or maybe it was a bit of both but it felt… normal. Like hugging Sherlock was something he did everyday. He turned his face into Sherlock’s chest and if a few tears rolled down his eyes well then, Sherlock’s shirt soaked them up readily.
“I am sorry for waking you up,” John whispered a minute into their embrace.
“Don’t be, I am glad you did.”
That statement put a smile on his face. They stayed like that till John yawned, both physical and mental exhaustion catching up to him.
“Come on. Let’s put you to sleep.”
“No.”
Sleeping meant John would have to go back to his bed again and he wanted to stay here as long as possible. This whole time with Sherlock had felt like something stolen from an alternate universe.
“You can sleep here,” Sherlock said.
“Will you be here?” John couldn’t believe he had just asked that. This would definitely be pushing Sherlock too far and then Sherlock would never talk to him again. That had been a big mistake.
Sherlock laughed and pressed a kiss on John’s head. “Yes, I’ll be here.”
John smiled again and the two of them separated to get under the covers. John stuck to his side longing for the contact he had just lost but he wasn’t going to cuddle up to Sherlock and push him away with his clinginess, just being here was enough. But then Sherlock was tugged at his hand and pulled him towards the center of the bed and once they were lying next to each other arms brushing together Sherlock turned slightly towards him and placed a tentative arm around John’s waist. “Is this okay?” he asked.
In answer, John turned towards Sherlock and brought their bodies closer together by placing his arm over the other man’s waist and his head on Sherlock’s chest.
And when after that night kissing each other and sharing a bed became a 221 B ritual too, nobody was complaining.