"It is." he insisted, not willing to let John lose himself in his own head. He squeezed in close when he felt John trembling, frowning when he saw him hide his face in his hands. He sat up, grabbing for John's hands and staring him in the face.
"No, you didn't. You're here. It's okay." he assured him, relaxing when John finally said his name, feeling that he'd finally realized that none of his dream was real. He settled against him again, petting his hair to bring John back to this moment rather than getting stuck back in memories of war.
"There's nothing to be sorry for." He stilled in his place wrapped around John again, half smiling to himself when John's hand wrapped around his wrist. "Try to sleep." he murmured, curling his body around John's tightly.
It took a few more minutes, but sleep was beginning to pull at John's senses again. And with Sherlock curled so tightly around him, there really was nowhere else for John to go. Rather than feeling suffocated by Sherlock's presence and close proximity, he felt... safer, somehow. Distantly, he remembered reading an article on deep pressure for sensory relief when he was a student, and he thought he finally understood why it might be so effective for some people. It was near impossible to lose it again with Sherlock holding him the way he did. And then, of course, there was the hair-petting, which added another level of comfort and ease to the moment.
"You're a good friend," John murmured sleepily, closing his eyes as he felt himself sinking away into deep sleep, "Don't think I deserve someone so brilliant as you in my life..."
Sherlock felt rather proud of himself in this moment, having higher hopes for this experiment being successful by the second. It felt like he belonged here, tangled up in John, like they should have engaged in this experiment a long time ago. Beyond the results of the experiment, even, this seemed like just where they were meant to end up, helping each other through every waking moment and even into dreams
( ... )
"Someone as brilliant as you deserves someone better," John continued in that soft murmur, half-asleep already and only distantly aware of what he was saying. He felt so warm, so comfortable, so utterly taken care of, and all by the virtue of Sherlock holding him. Then again, he couldn't remember the last time he'd allowed someone to hold him like this, and actually relaxed into it...
He fell asleep a few moments later, and the rest of the night was a relatively quiet one for John Watson. Once or twice, he stirred restlessly in sleep, but calmed almost immediately after due to the presence of something, something which made him sigh softly in sleep and shift closer to said presence. There was safety there, and acceptance, and something warm John could only identify as loveOver the course of the night, John had shifted sufficiently and stubbornly so that his back was now resting against Sherlock's chest, the taller man spooning him, his arm and leg still draped over John's smaller form. He woke slowly, reluctantly, blinking a few
( ... )
It took all of Sherlock's energy not to scoff at John's sleepy mutterings, sure that he had it completely wrong. No one was better for him than John, and he certainly didn't deserve him. Every day for him it became more unbelievable that John was here, that he'd stayed when so many others would have left. How many other flatmates would submit to sleeping together like this, after all? He smiled to himself when he noted that John had finally fallen asleep, just watching him for a long moment so he could see the way he'd relaxed so easily after his nightmare. Normally, John stayed awake for a long time after a nightmare, getting restless and sometimes not even sleeping again at all. It gave him new hope for their experiment that John was able to fall back to sleep so easily
( ... )
John debated for a little while whether he should break the silence, wish Sherlock a good morning, let the other man know he was awake (though he probably knew as much already). He thought back to the day before, where there morning had started off so wonderfully, with laughter and an ease around each other, despite the unusual closeness. And then John had ruined it by reacting too intensely, too negatively, too quickly to Sherlock's idea of this experiment. But wishing Sherlock a good morning wouldn't ruin anything, surely...
He exhaled softly and tightened his fingers on Sherlock's, a smile tugging at his lips. "You're like a human spider," he murmured, voice rough. He felt sleepy, but not tired, which had not been the case for a long time. "Your long limbs, I mean. I'm not going anywhere, Sherlock. I'm good right here." He pulled Sherlock's arm around him a little more to illustrate just that, moving back against the other man.
Holding John like this felt far better than Sherlock ever imagined. He had expected that he'd be too warm or have a hard time finding a comfortable position, but they just..fit somehow. He had felt it yesterday, which was why he was so quick to suggest this experiment.
He opened his eyes when John spoke, furrowing his brow at bit at his comment. He hummed contentedly at his explanation, the reassurance that he wasn't planning on moving certainly comforting.
"As am I." he murmured into his hair, his limbs tightening on him when John moved even closer as much as that was possible. He nosed into John's hair with a gentle sigh, glad that today seemed to be going much better than yesterday had.
Oh, much better indeed. John was keen on not ruining this morning, not when he'd had such a good night's sleep, not counting the moment when...
"I'm sorry," he murmured, an echo from earlier that night. "About the nightmare. Didn't expect that one." John's nightmares were recurring, not always the same, but some were regulars even so, and the one from last night always left John with difficult feelings of doubt and guilt and self-hatred. He knew they were not justified, but it was sometimes hard to remember when dreams manifested themselves in one's mind and body so intensely.
He played with the fingers of Sherlock's hand, absent-mindedly, brushing his fingertips across the palm of his hand. "And thank you, for... For being there. Calming me down. I needed that. Did... Did you sleep okay?"
Shaking his head automatically, Sherlock nudged himself closer and squeezed John tight.
"You don't have to be sorry." he replied, only wishing he could have prevented it in the first place rather than just comforting him in the aftermath. "That's the point of this experiment, to analyze our respective sleep issues and go about trying to fix them."
He smiled softly against his hair, enjoying the way John was stroking his hand like that. "No thanks necessary. I only wish I could have done more." He made a gentle sound of approval, appreciating the lingering scent of the cologne he liked so much.
"I did. Even longer and deeper than yesterday." he answered, stroking his own fingers over John's hand, admiring the quiet strength and capability of those strong hands. "And you?" Besides the nightmare, of course, but he wasn't going to bring that up.
John considered that question for a moment while he looked down at their hands. While the nightmare had shaken John, it had not been as bad afterwards as it normally would have been. He had actually gone back to sleep, and slept well, which was more than a little remarkable. Usually he would just lie awake in bed until a sensible hour, and sometimes he even got up and puttered about in their living room, sitting behind his laptop and working on another blog entry with that old-fashioned typewriting journalist style of typing of his, which took forever and drove Sherlock up the walls, but it was what John was used to. Breaking John out of his habits was almost as impossible as trying the same with Sherlock.
"I slept quite well," he finally answered, looking over his shoulder at Sherlock. "Don't know how much of that was pure exhaustion or this experiment of yours, but I guess I'll get a better feel for that tonight, eh?"
Sherlock gave a satisfied smile when John answered, having hoped for that response. He stroked his thumb gently over John's hand, unsure when little movements like that had become so natural, but not wanting to question it
( ... )
John's room was not so much a sanctuary for John as it was for other people. But it was the only room in the flat that was entirely his, and at times, he needed and enjoyed a moment of privacy. He still slept restlessly, but the nightmares had subsided somewhat, their frequency and intensity not nearly as bad as they were before he'd met Sherlock. He brushed last night's nightmare off as an anomaly, sleeping in a place that was unknown to him at night, and sleeping next to another person. Tonight would be better. It had to be.
Almost on cue, John's stomach gave a bit of a complaining rumble, and he cleared his throat a little in faint embarrassment before smiling, still looking at Sherlock over his shoulder. "How about some tea and toast?" he asked, right before he made to get out of the bed. He really did not want to, it was so very warm and comfortable under the covers and in Sherlock's arms... but he was starting to feel a little peckish. "I think we have some juice, as well, might be nice?"
Sherlock enjoyed the companionable silence that stretched between them, still appreciating the warm presence of John and unwilling to let him go just yet. He frowned when John's stomach growled, knowing it was a precursor to his suggesting he get up. He squeezed him tighter and shook his head, not letting him up when he tried to move
( ... )
To say John was in shock would be an understatement. When Sherlock returned with breakfast, John was sitting up against the headboard, his expression still one of adorable confusion. "Am I dreaming?" he asked, irony written in every line of his face. "Is this a dream?"
He looked down curiously at the other man, his head resting on his shoulder, to the tray, and back at Sherlock again. "I mean, this is really nice - really nice - and all, but it's quite unlike you, isn't it?" Even so, John took a grateful sip of his morning tea. "If I'd known this was going to happen, I'd have agreed to this experiment months ago. You don't want anything yourself
( ... )
Sherlock gave a pained sort of sigh when John asked that, but his expression softened a bit after a moment. It was a bit endearing, if he was completely honest with himself, that John found this so extraordinarily good that he thought it was a dream.
"It's not a dream." he clarified, climbing back into bed with him and getting comfortable at his side. He just watched him silently, smirking a little at his mention of starting this long ago, those being his thoughts exactly.
"I'm fine." he assured him, enjoying just getting to lean against him as he was. He huffed a soft sigh and took some toast as directed, nibbling on the end of it to oblige him.
"I simply didn't want you to get up just yet. It didn't end well last time I let you up so soon." he admitted, not sure what it was about this moment that had him actually being honest with him. Maybe it was the fact that they were in his bed or maybe he was still a bit groggy. He took a sip of the tea, leaning heavily on him and enjoying the quiet tranquility of this moment.
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"No, you didn't. You're here. It's okay." he assured him, relaxing when John finally said his name, feeling that he'd finally realized that none of his dream was real. He settled against him again, petting his hair to bring John back to this moment rather than getting stuck back in memories of war.
"There's nothing to be sorry for." He stilled in his place wrapped around John again, half smiling to himself when John's hand wrapped around his wrist. "Try to sleep." he murmured, curling his body around John's tightly.
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"You're a good friend," John murmured sleepily, closing his eyes as he felt himself sinking away into deep sleep, "Don't think I deserve someone so brilliant as you in my life..."
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He fell asleep a few moments later, and the rest of the night was a relatively quiet one for John Watson. Once or twice, he stirred restlessly in sleep, but calmed almost immediately after due to the presence of something, something which made him sigh softly in sleep and shift closer to said presence. There was safety there, and acceptance, and something warm John could only identify as loveOver the course of the night, John had shifted sufficiently and stubbornly so that his back was now resting against Sherlock's chest, the taller man spooning him, his arm and leg still draped over John's smaller form. He woke slowly, reluctantly, blinking a few ( ... )
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He exhaled softly and tightened his fingers on Sherlock's, a smile tugging at his lips. "You're like a human spider," he murmured, voice rough. He felt sleepy, but not tired, which had not been the case for a long time. "Your long limbs, I mean. I'm not going anywhere, Sherlock. I'm good right here." He pulled Sherlock's arm around him a little more to illustrate just that, moving back against the other man.
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He opened his eyes when John spoke, furrowing his brow at bit at his comment. He hummed contentedly at his explanation, the reassurance that he wasn't planning on moving certainly comforting.
"As am I." he murmured into his hair, his limbs tightening on him when John moved even closer as much as that was possible. He nosed into John's hair with a gentle sigh, glad that today seemed to be going much better than yesterday had.
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"I'm sorry," he murmured, an echo from earlier that night. "About the nightmare. Didn't expect that one." John's nightmares were recurring, not always the same, but some were regulars even so, and the one from last night always left John with difficult feelings of doubt and guilt and self-hatred. He knew they were not justified, but it was sometimes hard to remember when dreams manifested themselves in one's mind and body so intensely.
He played with the fingers of Sherlock's hand, absent-mindedly, brushing his fingertips across the palm of his hand. "And thank you, for... For being there. Calming me down. I needed that. Did... Did you sleep okay?"
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"You don't have to be sorry." he replied, only wishing he could have prevented it in the first place rather than just comforting him in the aftermath. "That's the point of this experiment, to analyze our respective sleep issues and go about trying to fix them."
He smiled softly against his hair, enjoying the way John was stroking his hand like that. "No thanks necessary. I only wish I could have done more." He made a gentle sound of approval, appreciating the lingering scent of the cologne he liked so much.
"I did. Even longer and deeper than yesterday." he answered, stroking his own fingers over John's hand, admiring the quiet strength and capability of those strong hands. "And you?" Besides the nightmare, of course, but he wasn't going to bring that up.
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"I slept quite well," he finally answered, looking over his shoulder at Sherlock. "Don't know how much of that was pure exhaustion or this experiment of yours, but I guess I'll get a better feel for that tonight, eh?"
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Almost on cue, John's stomach gave a bit of a complaining rumble, and he cleared his throat a little in faint embarrassment before smiling, still looking at Sherlock over his shoulder. "How about some tea and toast?" he asked, right before he made to get out of the bed. He really did not want to, it was so very warm and comfortable under the covers and in Sherlock's arms... but he was starting to feel a little peckish. "I think we have some juice, as well, might be nice?"
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He looked down curiously at the other man, his head resting on his shoulder, to the tray, and back at Sherlock again. "I mean, this is really nice - really nice - and all, but it's quite unlike you, isn't it?" Even so, John took a grateful sip of his morning tea. "If I'd known this was going to happen, I'd have agreed to this experiment months ago. You don't want anything yourself ( ... )
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"It's not a dream." he clarified, climbing back into bed with him and getting comfortable at his side. He just watched him silently, smirking a little at his mention of starting this long ago, those being his thoughts exactly.
"I'm fine." he assured him, enjoying just getting to lean against him as he was. He huffed a soft sigh and took some toast as directed, nibbling on the end of it to oblige him.
"I simply didn't want you to get up just yet. It didn't end well last time I let you up so soon." he admitted, not sure what it was about this moment that had him actually being honest with him. Maybe it was the fact that they were in his bed or maybe he was still a bit groggy. He took a sip of the tea, leaning heavily on him and enjoying the quiet tranquility of this moment.
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