A Study in Resistance- A Johnlock Fanfic

Chapter Eighteen

Omg I feel like I just started this fanfic and boom! Chapter 18. Thank you all for all your support, this is my first fanfic (ever) and I hope you are enjoying it! Also, thank my cousin for finally pushing me into it... If you're reading, love you girl! Anyway, I got to dreamily write about Sherlock's face so I'm happy!

~Sec

John woke up and stretched without sitting up. He wasn’t fully awake so he yawned and relaxed again. Then he realized he was in Sherlock’s room. It was light out (he must’ve slept all the way through the night and till morning despite going to bed so early). For a moment his eyes got wide and he woke up all the way when he realized if it was light he was probably late for work, but then he remembered it was Saturday and he relaxed again. He turned over (bored of his view of the room achieved by lying on the side he was currently lying on) and was met by the face of a sleeping Sherlock, frighteningly close. John jumped and scrambled out of the bed. He fell on the floor with a loud thump that woke Sherlock up. Sherlock sat up and looked around, then saw John, startled, on the floor and furrowed his brow.

“What are you doing down there?” he asked.

John squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, “What were you doing in the bed?”

“It’s my bed.”

“Yeah but I was in it!”

“Yes, and it’s mine.”

“Yes and there was someone in it! You don’t just get in a bed with someone in it!” John was blushing and he knew it.

“But it’s my bed!”

“Yes we’ve established that!”

“I’m sorry but I was tired and I wanted to go to bed. And I didn’t want to wake you up because you seemed really tired when we had that argument last night,” Sherlock said softly.

“Well why didn’t you just sleep in my bed?” John asked, a bit less shouty.

“Because I wanted the sleep in my bed,” Sherlock said simply.

John chuckled.

“What?”

“You’re such a child, Sherlock,” he said, smiling.

“Am not!”

This made John laugh. He was still on the floor so he lie down on his back and looked at Sherlock’s ceiling. He sat there staring at the purple plaster. Sherlock was doing the same, only on the bed.

“Hey John?”

“Yes Sherlock?”

“Just making sure.”

“Making sure if what?” John asked, wondering if there had been something in his voice that had given away what he had eaten for lunch last week or something.

“Making sure you’re still there.”

Well that was unexpected, “What?”

“In my dreams when I call your name you don’t answer.”

“Dreams?”

“Nightmares. Ever since I… made you think I was dead I’ve had them.”

Sounded pretty familiar to John. But still, Sherlock Holmes, plagued by nightmares?

“Nightmares, you?” John asked.

“Never mind. It’s stupid. Not worth pursuing.”

John shrugged, “Okay,” they were silent for a bit, “Were you having one of those nightmares when you woke up yesterday and called my name?”

“No, John,” Sherlock said, there was something strange in his voice, “You jumped of the roof at St. Bart’s like I did.”

“Jesus.”

“Don’t ever do that okay?”

“I won’t. As long as you don’t.”

Sherlock laughed, “Been there, done that. Don’t want to be dull.”

“God forbid you be dull,” John mumbled.

They were silent again and John could hear Mrs. Hudson walking about downstairs. Did that woman ever go out?

“Well I’m getting up,” Sherlock said, sitting up. John sat up too.

“I think I’ll go to my own room,” John said with a smile as he stood up.

“You don’t have to,” Sherlock offered.

John turned to look at Sherlock, “What?”

“I just mean… I-I don’t know…” Sherlock looked down as if embarrassed.

“Sherlock… Are you alright?”

“Fine.”

“You’re not sick or…”

“What? No!” Sherlock looked up at John.

John shrugged and walked into his own room. As he undressed and re-dressed in clean clothes, John found himself thinking an awful lot about Sherlock. About those dark curls, perfect cheekbones and that pale, cold, unfeeling face. Lately, Sherlock had been acting odd, almost off. Almost as if the handsome detective wasn’t so unfeeling after all.