John and Sherlock had gotten in a fight yet again. John couldn't remember half the angry words they had exchanged, but they weren't good. Now John was laying in the bed. Eyes, open, staring at the ceiling. Alone.

Later he felt Sherlock's heavy weight fall into the mattress. But he did not curl into John. Instead he turned into himself, facing away. Sure enough, Sherlock had another bad dream.

John was lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor of a dusty dilapidated farmhouse. 'Wasn't I a good enough friend for you, Sherlock?' Sherlock felt his chest tighten. 'I did the best I could. I was always there for you. I … I … lo … loved you, Sherlock.' Tears began to roll down Sherlock's cheeks. 'Why would you do this to me? Why? You left me. No one was there to watch my back. You killed me!'

Sherlock couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't breathe. Oh God, he had killed his only friend. John; the love of his life, his constant, his rock, his best friend and his protector.

"John, don't. I'm begging you. Don't do it. John, please. Don't, please," Sherlock was babbling, crying still completely asleep.

John sat up and propped himself up against the wall. He pulled Sherlock up against his chest and cradled him in his arms.

"I won't, Sherlock. Whatever it is, I won't, ok? I won't do it. Just wake up for me, ok?" John begged. "Wake up. Sherlock."

The command tone of his voice snapped Sherlock out of the dream. He didn't stop crying for a long time. John just held him and whispered soothing words into his ear, until his body stopped shaking.

Sherlock opened his eyes and peered wildly around. He couldn't make out where he was. A horrible cough shook his whole aching body. Calming familiar hands were rubbing his back gently as he tried to gain composure.

"Deep breaths, Sherlock. Come on now."

Sherlock was having trouble focusing on his surroundings. "John?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes. It's me."

"Why are you here?"

John ignored the pain in his chest that came from hearing that statement. He knew it was just Sherlock being..Well, being 'Sherlock'.

"It's okay, Sherlock. I'm here. Just concentrate on breathing."

Sherlock did. If John says everything is okay, then it must be. He never liked following John's orders without explanation but he still trusted him.

Sherlock's breathing finally began to settle down and his coughing began to ease up however, the pain remained. The ache in his chest remained.

Slowly, the pain began to ease up as the shock of the nightmare faded away.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Sherlock murmured.

"I know," John breathed in his hair. "It's ok." And as long as John was there, it would be.

Sherlock sighed, drifting back off into sleep in John's arms. He didn't have a nightmare this time.

A/N Please let me know what you thought!