BBC Sherlock: Nightmares by trajektoria, literature
Literature
BBC Sherlock: Nightmares
The moment John woke up, he knew something was wrong. He was a light sleeper, courtesy of Afghanistan, so any sign of danger could instantly jolt him wide awake. And now he clearly sensed that his life was hanging by a thread. However, John decided to be cautious and not to make any unnecessary movements, which might provoke an assault. Instead he just opened his eyes slightly and carefully scanned the room shrouded in darkness. Yes, his instinct didn't fail him. There was someone standing at the door. The stranger was motionless, but John could hear him breathing irregularly, as if he just stopped running and tried to calm down. A shadowy, a
Johnlock - Speaking Silent Words - Fluff Warning by RejectedBot, literature
Literature
Johnlock - Speaking Silent Words - Fluff Warning
It's been about a week since me and Sherlock decided to go steady.
To be honest, nothing much has changed. I'd confessed my feelings over dinner 8 days ago, and received a frosty reception from the detective. Considering it had taking much mental convincing and building up to the point where I could confront him on my feelings, I found it hard to take. We spent the rest of the night in silence, as Sherlock zoned out to think (or just purposely ignored me) and I simply couldn't think of anything to begin another conversation.
I'd be lying if i said that I got much sleep that night. Well, neither did Sherlock. I woke up to him being in the ex
"Don't! -SH"
Sherlock sat back on the bed, breathing heavily. He had been watching John, watching him struggle with the little bottle. 8 months, 3 weeks, and 4 long days. That's how long he's watched John fall apart, watched John struggle to cope with what he believed was Sherlock's death.
Sherlock didn't believe John would actually take the pills. He felt fear bubble in his chest as he realized his text almost hadn't reached the despondent doctor in time. Standing again at the window, Sherlock watched as the phone fell from John's fingers. A look of dazed disbelief centered in the doctor's eyes and he made no move to pick up the phone. The
John stifled a yawn as he listened to another patient describe his symptoms. Work had started to get boring, repetitive. His eyes glazed over as one part of his brain catalogued the symptoms. The other part, the large part, goes back to his phone. The phone he left lying on the floor next to his chair as he left the flat this morning.
John shook himself out of his ruminations and focused on his patient again. The man had finished his recitation and was looking at John expectantly. He coughed slightly, dabbing his mouth with a tissue.
"Well, it sounds like you have the flu," John said. "Get some rest, drink plenty of fluids, and eat as much
'1 year, 5 months, 2 weeks, and 1 day,' Sherlock thought as he sat in the flat across from his old one. The flat that John still stayed in. Sherlock glanced down at his phone, a cheap one he had picked up about a year ago, and wondered. He hadn't gotten a return text all that time ago when he saved John from the pills. He wasn't even sure if John believed it had come from him.
Sherlock sighed and ran a hand through his black curls. Moriarty's web was almost completely dismantled, but the time grated on Sherlock. He could feel what he swore was insanity creeping slowly up to him. The longer he spent away from their flat, from John, the worse