I Am Offering This Scarf

Chapter 7- Sentiment

A/N~ I'm aware of the fact that I'll have to gain back my followers because of my absence.
And I apologize again...but I shall post every Wednesday from this moment forward!!! You have my word.

I swear it on all my fandom merchandise....

                                                        ~M

I wake up sometime in the middle of the night and twist over to see the clock. '2:34' it says in big red numbers. I feel wide awake. I resolve that I'm probably not going to fall back asleep tonight. I roll back over towards Sherlock, who has his arm wrapped around my waist, and scoot to where our faces are only an inch apart. He looks so calm when he sleeps. Not a sociopath, not Shezza, just Sherlock Holmes...

I run my thumb over the wrinkles in his head and they relax. He's very beautiful. Flawlessly sculpted. I know that's not something you typically say about guys, but he is. So overwhelmingly too... I place my lips on his forehead and lift his arm off of my side. As much as I wish to stay in his bed, I should probably head back to mine. Maybe get a drink first. Plus, it was starting to get kinda tepid. I sit up and slide off the side of the bed, rustling the covers a little bit, but not enough to wake him. The house is dark at the time of night, causing me to stub my toe a few times. I don't full-on run into anything, though. I know the flat too well. A bit of a light sleeper.

The kitchen has a lambent blue bulb on above the sink, but that's about it in way of light. I stumble toward the fridge and pray there's a good drink in there.

Nothing.

I sigh. Water will have to do then. I find a hard plastic cup, not wanting to dirty any teacups, and run it under the faucet. As soon as I turn around to head up to my older bedroom-

"John!!" He screams. Bloodcurdling enough that I freeze for a split second.

I sit the cup down on the kitchen table and run down the hallway. I burst through the bedroom door to see Sherlock sitting up in the bed, sweating like crazy, with a terror-stricken look in his eye. I go around and get in my side of the bed and sit on my knees in front of Sherlock. "Sherlock! Calm down! I'm right here!" I smooth my hands over his face and his breathing starts to calm. His face is wet with tears. Why is he acting like this?

"J-John..." He says quietly. He looks straight into my eyes as if he's convincing himself that it's actually me and crushes me to him in a bone-breaking hug. "Oh thank god..." He mutters.

My fingers smooth over his bare back and he grips me harder. "Sherlock, you're hurting me." I say quietly, gasping and struggling to get in a breath.

He releases me slowly and leans against the headboard. Bewildered, he drags his hands under his eyes and brings them away blinking confusedly at the wetness that had been there. "I'm sorry, I don't..." He breaks off.

I shake my head, not knowing quite what else to do in the situation. "Shh. It's okay. Was it a nightmare?" I ask, sitting down on my behind. My hands fold in my lap.

He starts to shake his head and then nods, most likely embarrassed. This has probably never happened to him before. He's confused, startled.

The panic earlier laced through my voice fades. I scoot closer to him and run my thumbs under his eyes again, catching the tears that had just fallen. "Sherlock, tell me what happened. Please." I know that this is emotionally hurting me, but obviously not nearly as much as it's hurting him.

He catches my hand and presses it to his cheek. "You were...John, you were..." He squeezes his eyes shut as if experiencing great pain. "There was blood. Lots of it. No pulse. You weren't breathing...I thought you were dead John..." He opens his eyes and a sob bursts from his throat, earning a flummoxed look from him. "John, I'm crying..."