Summary: It’s been a near week since Sherlock has had a new case, and he’s positively vexed. But when John arrives with an unexpected visitor, things certainly liven up for the consulting detective.
Okay, so here’s the situation: John’s sister Y/N pops by 221B Baker Street, and Sherlock is just- smitten. Like, he’s unable to even function because he’s so into her.
Let’s see how this goes, shall we?
Requested by: Anonymous
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Bored. Bored. Bored.
Sherlock lay on the worn leather couch, staring up at the ceiling as he anxiously twirled a small blade in his hand. The steady London traffic could be heard below, only fuelling his impatience.
Six days. He had gone six days without a case.
This is absolutely absurd. London is always bustling! I’m sure there’s a bloody murder that needs solving... perhaps a quaint unexplained robbery?
Sherlock’s grip on the silver blade tightened as he expertly turned it over and over again. He felt shifty, restless... bored.
“BLAST!” Sherlock roared as he sat upright and lanced the blade at the wall opposite him.
“Damn it, Sherlock!”
John stared at the sharp weapon that had impaled itself in the wall by the doorway. It had landed mere inches shy of his nose.
“You could have killed me!”
“Precisely John! I very well could have, but I didn’t.”
“Well you were bloody close!”
Sherlock sat up and gave John a condescending smile before walking proudly to the kitchen, dressing gown dragging lazily behind him.
His voice echoed sarcastically as he paced about aimlessly. “I was wondering when you’d show up. The kettle’s on.”
John closed his eyes and sighed heavily as he took in Sherlock’s ragged appearance. The consulting detective was clad in his nightclothes despite the late noon hour; loose flannel bottoms, a white cotton shirt, and his favourite navy dressing gown. His hair was unkempt and a dark shadow had appeared on his lower face. In summary, he was a mess.
Sherlock paced frantically, voice animated as he began ranting to his friend.
“Six days John, a near week since my last case!”
“Sherlock-”
“One hundred and fourteen hours sans travail, and still, Lestrade can’t seem to find me anything!”
“Sherlock, If you would just listen-“ John began, calmly.
Sherlock stopped pacing abruptly, and turned briskly to face John, a frown on his face.
“Do you know what I need? Cigarettes. Do we have cigarettes?” He paused for a moment. “Or perhaps Ginger nuts... do we have any of those?”
Oh dear lord, he’s manic. John thought to himself, irritation creeping in.
“SHERLOCK!” John hollered, still standing by the flat’s entrance.
The consulting detective turned haughtily, a patronizing expression adorning his face. “Now John, there’s no need to shout.”
John gritted his teeth and spoke tersely. “Sherlock, did you forget what day it is?”
“Tuesday!” He quipped with a hum.
“It’s Sunday, actually” a voice called out from the hallway.
Sherlock’s eyes narrowed at the sound of the stranger’s voice. “John, you didn’t mention company.”
John closed his eyes again and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to keep his cool. “What I’ve been trying to tell you Sherlock, is that Y/N’s finally landed in London. You were supposed to meet her today, remember?”
Sherlock stared at him blankly. “Who?”
“Y/N? Bloody hell Sherlock, I’ve been reminding you of her visit for the past month. We spoke about it just this morning!”
“I’m sorry John, you know I haven’t the time for another one of your unfortunate dates.”
The stranger finally stepped forward, gently nudging John aside.
“Good to know. Do you think you can make the time to meet his unfortunate sister instead?”
All possible retorts remained up in the air as Sherlock lost his train of thought. The woman before him was strikingly beautiful. He stood in awe, eyes skirting over her as he tried and failed to make any useful deductions. For once in his life, the great Sherlock Holmes was at a loss for words. It was more than her beauty that had captivated him, it was the air of intelligence that surrounded her. The subtle certitude in her stand, the sincerity lacing her eyes. She was stunning in every aspect.
Y/N bit her lip anxiously as her brother’s flat mate stood silently, gawking at her from across the room.
He’s absolutely gorgeous she thought to herself.
The awkward silence dragged on, and Y/N began shuffling nervously, digging her nails into the flat of her palm as the man continued staring, not uttering a word. She finally met his gaze, and granted him a small albeit skeptical smile.
“Right then, introductions.” John interrupted, cocking a brow at his friend‘s odd behaviour.
“Y/N, this is-“
“Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. It’s a pleasure, truly.” Sherlock stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Y/N.
“Well, I’m Y/N Watson. It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Mr Holmes. John has told me so much about you.”
“I’m sure he has.”
Y/N reached her arm out and Sherlock met her halfway, grabbing hold of her hand, and shaking in greeting. His eyes met hers and for a moment, they simply studied one another.
Sherlock’s gaze lowered, focusing on Y/N’s lips. His thoughts wandered as he imagined the great multitude of fascinating topics which she might enjoy speaking of. Perhaps she enjoyed the discipline of science as much as he did... maybe she liked to read... she might even like dogs! And of course, he wondered what it might feel like to press his lips against hers, even if just for a single moment. To feel the warmth of her skin flush against his as they shared an impassioned kiss.
Y/N’s breath hitched at the contact, however amicable, of her hand being enveloped by Sherlock’s. She had been desperate to meet him for over a year now. Ever since John moved to 221B Baker Street, he had been calling his sister daily to recount his great adventures with the legendary Sherlock Holmes. Soon enough, Y/N had found herself harbouring an epic crush on the consulting detective. Though she’d never admit it, she had even started reading John’s blog just to satisfy her strange infatuation with the man in the trench coat.
John cleared his throat uncomfortably, spurring Sherlock and Y/N out of their thoughts. “Yes, well, I’m very sorry to interrupt this moment of yours, but, umm... tea?”
“No thank you John, it’s warm enough in here.”
“Y/N, it’s the dead of winter outside and Sherlock has all the windows open. It’s hardly warm.”
“Oh...” Y/N managed sheepishly. In retrospect, she realized the flat was rather brisk, though she could hardly feel the chill. She was so enraptured by Sherlock that a contented warmth had surrounded her.
“Also, I think the point’s come across, you can both end the handshake now.”
“Oh, we’re still shaking!” Y/N exclaimed, redirecting her attention to Sherlock.
“Yes,” he chuckled, “it appears we are.”
Sherlock finally let Y/N’s hand fall, and walked toward the hearth. As he stepped away, back to the Watsons, he could still feel a whisper of her touch, and subtlety flexed his hand.
RING, RING!
John took out his mobile phone and accepted the call, but not before rolling his eyes at Sherlock and Y/N.
Could they make it any more obvious that they clearly fancy each other? He thought to himself.
“Hello? Are you sure? Yes, I’ll tell him, he’s dying for a new case. Exactly, absolutely insufferable! Okay, yes, alright. See you then. Bye, Greg.”
John ended the call and turned to Sherlock.
“It’s Lestrade. He’s got something for you. An unexplained death on Campden Hill. Apparently a man died of carbon monoxide poisoning but there’s no traces of the stuff anywhere else in his flat. All the doors were locked, and there’s no sign of forced entry. Right up your alley I’d think.”
Sherlock thought for a moment, watching John’s reflection through the mirror above the hearth.
“Excellent. Watson, will you join me?”
“Of course, isn’t that what I do, join you on cases? Y/N, maybe you could spend the day with Mrs Hudson? I’m sure she’d be happy to show you about London.”
Y/N felt a bit disappointed as she realized the boys were about to leave. She was hoping for more time with Sherlock. He was positively captivating.
John was reaching for his jacket when Sherlock suddenly stopped him.
“Apologies John, I meant your sister.”
“Come again?” John deadpanned.
“Well, Lestrade obviously needs help, so I’ll put my best man on the case... you. I already have eight possible theories myself, I’m sure you’ll manage.”
Sherlock patted John on the shoulder, then took a step towards Y/N, smiling kindly. “Have you had any good chips lately? I know a little place where they’re prepared excellently. Would you care to join me?”
“I’d like that.” She said with a laugh. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” She whispered back to her brother, giving him a quick kiss to the cheek.
With that, Sherlock laced his arm with hers, and walked out the flat, boredom long forgotten. Finally, he had found something to truly captivate his attention.
John smiled and shook his head halfheartedly at the odd pair. Of course, he was a bit put off by Sherlock’s antics, but mostly, he was glad to see his friend and sister so blatantly content.
John was just about to head out himself when a sudden observation struck him. “He’s still in his nightclothes...” He said to himself amusedly.
It was clear that Y/N Watson would be staying in London for a long while.
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Voila, another fic!
Try reading Academic Reminder
If you’d like to be tagged in any of my future Sherlock fics, tell me in the comments!!
Thanks to whoever sent this request in, it was really fun to write! I had like zero ideas on how to see this through, but you can’t go wrong with a first meeting, right? It’s always a safe bet.
Okay, so I REALLY need to get started on my essay, wish me luck!!!
I take requests in a lot of fandoms, but this is what I have so far!
Fluff - 💗
Angst - ⛈
Humor - 😎
Suggestive Themes - ❤️
Smut - ❤️🔥
Sherlock BBC
Sherlock x Fem!Reader
Beg For Forgiveness ⛈ ❤️
Your fiancé, the great Sherlock Holmes, comes back from the dead—just when you were ready to move on. Can you forgive him?
Mastermind (Songfic) 💗 😎
Truly a mastermind, Sherlock outsmarts himself and you; at least he thinks so. How will he ask you out, though?
Sincerity 💗
(Could be read as a prequel to Beg For Forgiveness, but mostly a standalone.)
Your boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes realizes you are feeling insecure— how does he remedy it?
In Progress
(Titles and details may change. Listed in no particular order!)
Bookish Delights ❤️🔥 or ❤️ (Remus Lupin x Slytherin!Reader)
Library shenanigans. Inter-dorm dating feels awkward at Hogwarts, but Remus and you are determined to make it work. And it works maybe a bit too well.
Are You Kneeling? 😎 ❤️🔥 (Loki x Fem!Reader)
6-Chapter-Long Series: Five times Loki kneels before you and one time you kneel before him.
The Greatest Wingman 😎 💗 (BBC John Watson x Gender Neutral!Reader)
Sherlock is annoyed. Why don’t you two just talk to each other? He decides to make you two acknowledge your feelings once and for all — in an aggressive way.
Summary: You get some birthday cuddles from your boyfriend. However, John has more than just a relaxing evening on his mind...
Warning: None
Birthday Note: Do I have a thing for Martin Freeman and the characters he so brilliantly portrays? Maybe. Is that a bad thing? Absolutely not ;)
You came home to the flat to find John in his favorite chair by the fireplace, dozing. It was a comforting sight, especially after a long day working in the office and fighting with Lestrade. You were the detective who supported Sherlock’s assistance.
You were the one who defended him and his crazy ways, even when it meant putting your badge on the line. It was exhausting and you loved it. But nothing made you forget a taxing day quite like coming back to John.
He stirred as you kicked off your shoes and slid off your jacket, giving a pleased hum when you proceeded to crawl into his lap. “Hello, darling,” his kiss was slow and sleepy.
“Hey,” you snuggled into him, forehead resting in the crook of his neck, your arm draped across his waist. “I got your flowers in the office earlier. Thank you, they’re beautiful.”
“Good, I’m glad you like them.” John had closed his eyes again as he absently rubbed your back. “Did you get the chocolates too?”
You nodded, the memory causing you to smile. “How did you know the strawberry cream-filled ones are my favorite?”
John gave a soft chuckle. “Kind of hard to forget something like that.” He lifted his head and kissed the side of your face. “You mentioned it once and I made a mental note of it.”
“Thank you, John.” You nuzzled closer.
“Happy birthday, darling.” He shifted so he could wrap you up in his arms. “You ready for our date tonight?”
“Our date?” You raised your head to look at him. “I thought Mrs. Hudson had planned a party for this evening.”
“Well she did, but then Sherlock convinced her that tomorrow would be a better day for it.”
“Why would he convince her to change her plans?”
“Because, you know,” John cleared his throat as his face grew slightly flushed. “Reservations.”
You smiled. “And that’s all?”
“Yeah, of course. That’s all.” John sat a little straighter. “You better go on and start getting ready, our reservations are for seven thirty.”
Not believing him for a moment, you leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “All right, have it your way.” You moved off his lap and started for the bedroom. “Just as long as the night ends in dessert, I’m all yours.”
“Thank goodness we’re going somewhere with dessert then.” John waited until you had gone into the bedroom and shut the door before reaching down to touch the small, square box in his pocket. And the glistening engagement ring hidden within. This was definitely going to be your best birthday ever, for both you and John.
Summary: Sherlock being the unofficial child of you and John.
[ short, no pronouns used ] | masterlist
"Are you guys back together?"
Greg has had a lot of surprises in his life, what with being in Scotland Yard and all, but even he was taken aback by the sudden bustling inside the small apartment.
The reason? Y/N L/N had come to visit for the first time after breaking up with John.
The apartment wasn’t a mess, well it didn’t seem to be. All the stuff that lay around was being put back into its place by Sherlock himself, a feat only achievable by Y/N.
“Told you a hundred times to not leave your experiments around,” you said, pointing at a bowl out in the open, which had something inside which looked suspiciously like a tongue.
“I’ve just been busy!” Sherlock yelled, but he did take the bowl away from your line of sight.
“We’re not together,” John informed Greg, both of them looking at the scene with amusement.
“John, why does he look sleep deprived?” you asked angrily.
“That’s because I am sleep deprived!” Sherlock replied, just as angry.
“It’s like you’re his parents,” Greg went on, as if it wasn't obvious enough already.
John blushed a deep shade of red, but he only shrugged. “It’s Sherlock. He’s annoying, fussy and arrogant like a 12 year old.”
“I heard that!” Sherlock said, momentarily stopping from yelling back at you.
“His bed time is at 10.45!” you said to John in exasperation. “Why have you been letting him up till 2.30 A.M?”
“That’s because he’s the cool dad,” Greg threw in unhelpfully.
“I keep telling him to sleep but he doesn’t. How’s that my fault?” John asked defensively, after throwing a glare towards Greg’s way.
“I am capable of deciding when to sleep!” Sherlock said in frustration, throwing his arms into the air. “I’m a grown man! With a job! And an apartment!”
“Shut up or I’ll take away your gun,” you said warningly.
He went quiet with a furious frown, plopping down on the couch.
“It’s wonderful to have you back,” John said, his hands folded and voice playful.
“This place is a disaster without me,” you muttered then looked at Lestrade curiously. “Aren't you like, a busy person?”
“Suddenly, no I’m not,” Greg said, sitting down on the couch. “This is much more interesting than murders.”
Hey y'all. I want to take a moment to say a huge THANK YOU to everyone who's interacted with this fic so far, especially over the unplanned hiatus it went through. My life's taken a couple of unexpected turns lately, but I'm happy to say that I'm now in a stable place both physically and mentally, so I'll be able to update more frequently! And I'm incredibly appreciative for all the kind words you guys have been sending my way <3 you're the best!
Also - I GOT MY FIRST REQUEST!!! JQNDJQOQNDHDOQNQLSPFJRB!!! I'm gonna continue writing Neighbors after this, but OH GOLLY GOSH AM I EXCITED!!!
I got this request on AO3 from the user xXFrankenHeartXx:
"You said that you take requests so. What about John taking care of the reader after they finally get a double mastectomy they've been saving up for. I can just imagine him being so gentle and the reader being so happy to see their chest for the first time after it's done."
TW: surgery mention, transphobia mention, minor violence, injury, blood mention
~Reader POV~
John had been nothing but kind, caring, and supportive since you'd started dating almost three years ago, and your top surgery was no different. He'd stayed by your side through it all; the countless appointments, the financial struggle, all your worries and fear...he'd even told Sherlock he couldn't go on as many cases so he could stay home and help you recover (which resulted in Sherlock bringing as many cases home as he could, but you didn't mind; it was a nice distraction).
It'd been a month since your surgery, and today you'd finally be able to remove the compression wrap. You knew you'd have to re-wrap your chest in gauze afterwards, but the excitement of seeing your flat, male-sculpted chest for the first time was the only thing on your mind.
"Can we do it now? Pretty please?" You asked, giving John your very best puppy dog eyes.
"No, love. The doctor said we should remove everything in the evening so you can lay down afterwards, since you'll probably be in a bit of pain." John smiled sympathetically as he recited the same answer he'd been giving you all day. You sighed dramatically, your head rolling back against the pillows stacked behind you.
John had insisted you rest for most of the day, to save your energy for tonight. Your recovery had been going smoothly, but it was taking a lot longer than you'd expected to be able to move your arms normally again. You could handle small motions like grabbing a drink off the bedside table, or messing around on your phone; but extending your arms more than a few inches away from your body was almost impossible. The doctor said that after you took off the compression wrap you could start daily stretches to further your recovery, which was another reason you were so eager for tonight.
And John, being the loving and caring boyfriend he is, never made you feel like a burden, even though you constantly needed his help. Tonight he'd even gone so far as to build you a pillow throne on your shared bed, and rent a bunch of movies for you to watch together to celebrate.
"Would cuddling make the wait a little more bearable?" John asked, eyes shining as he grinned at you.
Cuddling hadn't been easy since the surgery; one wrong move or shift could send a bolt of pain through your body at any moment. Since snuggling was your favorite way to relax, going a whole month without it was absolute torture.
"You're lifting the cuddle ban?" You asked with wide, hopeful eyes. John chuckled,
"Yes, I'm lifting the cuddle ban."
"YES!" You cheered. "Snuggles!!!"
John scooted over and carefully positioned you in front of him, so your back was against his chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close, resting his head on your shoulder.
"Better?"
"Much, much better." You sighed, melting into John's touch, putting your arms over his. "I missed this so much."
"Me too, love." He whispered, burying his face in your neck. "Me too."
Being in John's arms made the rest of the world fade away, your focus drawn only to the man beside you.
The man who'd never once dead-named or misgendered you.
The man who'd fought those that disrespected you.
The man who loved you as wholeheartedly as you loved him.
As you relaxed, your mind drifted to the memory of the day you and John met...
The hustle and bustle of London nightlife echoed around you as you stood in front of The Yard Bar, a popular date destination for gay men. You hated bars, but since your friend, Shelley, had set up this date for you, you hadn't had much of a choice.
Shelley was a sweet, hardworking woman; you two had clicked almost instantly when you were put on the same team for a project at work. She'd been trying to set you up on a blind date for a while now, but you'd always been (understandably) reluctant. However, this time Shelley had sworn that if you went on this date, she'd never try and set you up for one again. You knew she'd stick to her word, so you agreed, eager to stop her never-ending texts about guys who'd be "Just perfect for you!".
"(Y/N)?" You jumped at the deep voice, whirling around to see a tall, burly man with short ginger hair and square glasses standing behind you. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm Ronald." He said, chuckling.
"I'm (Y/N). Oh, but I guess you already knew that..." You smiled awkwardly as a deep blush spread across your face. "It's nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you, too. I like your outfit."
"Oh, thanks!" You replied, your grin becoming more genuine. You'd chosen a pair of black jeans, black converse, and a long-sleeved black button-up shirt with an embroidered cat peeking out of the pocket.
"Yea, it's always nice to meet a woman who isn't afraid to dress the way she wants."
"I'm actually trans male, so I use he/him pronouns." The response rolled off your tongue with practiced ease; a result of the constant misgendering you endured since you were rather...well-endowed.
"Huh?" A look of confusion crossed Ronald's face before he let out a small huff. "Oh, you're serious about that? I thought Shelley was joking when she told me you were transgendered or whatever."
"She was most certainly not joking." You retorted, your tone taking a more serious edge. "I'm a man." Ronald continued laughing, your declaration falling on deaf ears. "Is that funny to you?"
"Hey now, chill girlie," He said, holding up a hand as he caught his breath. You felt your blood boiling as he spoke, "You were born a girl, weren't you? It's not like you can change DNA."
"My gender is not a joke. I. Am. A. Man." You seethed, ready to put this jackass in his place. "If this is how you treat people - women, men, or otherwise - then you don't deserve another second of my time." With that, you turned and started to storm away, but before you could go more than a few steps you felt a hand wrap around your wrist.
"Where do you think you're going, bitch?" Ronald asked, yanking hard on your arm; nearly making you fall. "This date isn't over yet."
"Let go!" You yelled, pushing and punching him with all your might. Ronald just tightened his grip on your wrist, making you wince.
Just as you were about to scream for help, someone's fist connected with Ronald's face, causing him to lose his hold on you and spin away, clutching his now-bleeding nose.
"That's no way to treat someone, let alone a date! Now fuck off!" The mystery savior said. Ronald scampered off without another word, like a dog with it's tail between it's legs.
You looked over and saw a well-built man with short, blonde hair and a brown bomber jacket rubbing his wrist idly as he watched your would-be date run for the hills.
"Are you alright?" He asked, turning to you.
"Oh, um, yea. Yea, I should be fine. Thank you for that." The man chuckled, shaking his head lightly.
"No problem. I'm John, by the way. John Watson." He said, extending his hand.
"I'm (Y/F/N)." You reached out and noticed that your wrist was bright red, and the adrenaline of the past few moments was being replaced with pain. "Oh gosh..."
"May I?" He asked, gesturing to your injury. "I'm a doctor."
"Oh, um...sure." John held your wrist gently, poking it here and there, eliciting small hisses of pain from you.
"Well, it's not broken or sprained, but you'll have a nasty bruise. I'd suggest keeping it iced as often as you can to help with the swelling."
"Thanks." You said with a soft smile. "I best go home and get some ice, then."
"Er, well, actually..." John started, rubbing the back of his neck. "I, um - I have ice at my flat. And we could order in?"
"Are you trying to sweep me off my feet, Mr. Hero?" You smirked, seeing John blush.
"Maybe."
You were so lost in thought that you didn't notice your phone beeping. John reached over, shutting off the alarm you'd set in anticipation for the night's events and pulling you from your trance as he started getting up, but your hand on his arm made him pause.
"(Y/N)? You okay?"
"Yea, just...I love you." You smiled softly. John returned your smile and leaned it, catching your lips in a tender kiss that made your heart skip a beat.
"I love you too." The two of you made your way to the bathroom, grinning like love-struck teenagers.
"Okay Dr. Watson, what do I need to do?" You asked, nudging John playfully. He rolled his eyes at you, grabbing a pair of scissors.
"I just need you to hold your arms up away from the bandages so I can cut them off without the risk of cutting you." You faced the mirror and stretched your arms up as far as you could without pain.
"Is this good enough?"
"Uh..." John trailed off, the look on his face answering your question.
"This is gonna hurt, isn't it?"
"Sorry love." You sighed, taking a moment to gather your courage.
"Alright. Can you help me?" John nodded, setting the scissors down and standing in front you, putting his hands under your arms.
"Deep breaths, love." Your breath stuttered a few times as John guided your arms up, but the pain was manageable. "Stay right there, I promise I'll be quick." You screwed your eyes shut, focusing on your breathing as a deep ache stirred in your chest and shoulders, causing tears to prick the corners of your eyes. After what felt like thousands of snips and cuts, the wrappings fell away from your body and you let your arms fall as well.
"Owwww..." You moaned, leaning on John for support. He held you close, rubbing a soothing hand across your back and whispering softly about how tough you were, and how well you handled everything.
"Do you wanna look in the mirror?" He asked after a moment. "We can lay down afterwards and I'll get us some ice cream." You giggled softly, nodding.
"Let's see the damage." You lifted your head as John moved to your side, his arm around your shoulders. A gasp escaped your lips as your eyes fell on your reflection. The skin was red and tender; a long, large scar revealing the path the scalpel had taken. But it was flat. Completely flat. You felt the tears return as you ran a hand carefully over your chest. "I...i-it's...wow..." You stuttered, at a loss for words. Glancing over to John's reflection you saw that he, too, was crying.
Requested by @nonstopwriter: could you make a john Watson x reader where the reader was in a mental hospital for a while bc of a suicide attempt and she got out but she has flashbacks of what happened in the hospital and John helps her deal with them?
Pairing: John Watson x reader
Word count: 727
Warnings: Does the whole escence of the story counts? I don’t think so...
A/N: Tonight’s the night of short stories, but I hope they’re worth it.
Enjoy!
The white walls.
The stairs, those cold stairs.
The smell of medicine.
That white light at the doctor’s office.
The doctor’s voice asking about your week.
That awful nurse you hated so much.
The food, oh the food.
Those bits of air you got every once in a while.
The pain…
(Y/N) sat up in bed, sweating, panting heavily. She had had another flashback. But why? She was supposed to have forgotten everything about that mental hospital she was in, about her pain – the one that got her there in the first place – she was supposed to forget it all and never ever remember it back.
John appeared at the door. “Are you all right?” He asked softly.
“Yes, yes, why are you up so late?” She asked, noticing the cup of tea on his hand.
“You’ve been very loud tonight.” He explained sheepishly. (Y/N) looked down shyly.
“I’m sorry, I just… I had a nightmare, it’s all.” She said.
“That didn’t sound like a nightmare at all.” John insisted. He walked closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, right in front of her and handing her the cup of tea.
“I don’t…”
“It’s yours.” John insisted, “I drank mine five minutes ago.” (Y/N) nodded and took the cup, taking a sip from it before John continued. The warmth of the tea made her feel better, as well as the attention John was giving her. “So, what was it?”
“Remember I told you about the… Mental hospital I was in?” She struggled to say. It was as if saying it out loud made it worse. John nodded. “I thought I had blocked it from my mind but… Apparently it’s there.”
“What do you mean?” John inquired, putting a hand over her blanket-covered leg.
“I’ve been having flashbacks lately… They started a week ago and now I can’t even sleep because every time I close my eyes for more than two seconds it all comes back…” Her voice had become lower and lower until it was merely a whisper. “It’s like I was dragged back to it… I can’t… I…” Tears started dripping from her eyes. John cupped her cheek, wiping the tears away with his thumbs.
“Hey, hey,” he called, “I’m here… I’m here.” He moved closer, sitting by her side and pulling her into a warm embrace.
“I don’t know what to do… I thought they would go away eventually but…” She sniffed, not needing to say more because John knew it.
“It’s normal.” He said, “I had flashbacks all the time after the war… You just have to find something else to keep your mind busy.”
“Like solving crimes?” She joked and John laughed lightly.
“Like solving crimes.” She left the cup at her night table and nuzzled closer to John. The ex-military held her tightly against his chest, making sure to breathe slowly because, for some reason, that’s what people did to calm the others. (Y/N) couldn’t stop crying, and even when John felt her tears wetting his shirt, he didn’t pull away.
“Can you stay with me tonight?” She inquired in such a low volume John thought he had imagined it.
“Of course.” He said, “I’ll stay with you for as long as you need.”
“Thanks, John.” She pecked his cheek shyly and John replied by kissing her forehead.
They shifted a little so they were both under the covers, with John holding her like one holds a tiny piece of paper during a windy day. She was fragile, vulnerable at that moment, and he’d be damned if he didn’t do anything about it.
Of course, (Y/N) woke up a few more times during the night, but she would wake up to a John ready to calm her down, to talk to her until she drifted once more to sleep. She felt a bit guilty for not letting him rest without knowing that his love for her made it possible for him to spend a sleepless night and still feel great the next morning – mostly because he had spent the night by her side.
And when things got rough and her pain was too much to bear, John was there, ready to drop the case just to go back to her and drag her away from the memories. John was her rock, her saviour and not even Sherlock could argue with that.
➤ Jim Moriarty | @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @asgards-princess-of-mischief
-ˏˋ SERIES! ˊˎ
➤ The Winged Victory | @justanotheromen @jaseena @jessiediegomax
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A couple notes...
TO ALL THAT HAVE BEEN TAGGED - YOU’RE ALL SO GREAT!! *HUGS*
If you would like to be tagged in any of the lists above, just tell me in the comments! Either on this post or any of my fics! These are all the characters I’m working on (for now), so let me know because I would love to add you!
If you would like to be added to multiple lists, just say the word! This list is always changing!
