When John got up the next morning you were both still there, it was surprising to him but you needed the sleep so he dismissed it. He sat down at his computer to add to his blog about this recent development in 221B but found himself looking at you.
You looked so peaceful, not like the bouncy bit of hellfire he’d come to know in the time you’d been with them. He watched as a strand of hair in your face rose and fell with your breathing and noted that at some point in the night you had grabbed a pillow to hug close to your chest.
He pulled his eyes away from you and back to the computer, allowing himself to get lost in his work there. It was only minutes after he’d looked away that your expression completely changed and you let go of the pillow in favor of your knees, which you pulled up close to you.
You whimpered and it woke Sherlock who looked down at you concerned as your hands balled up into fits, grasping at the fabric of your pants, and you started to shake.
He frowned at your sleeping form and then looked up, “John.”
He went to wake you as his flatmate looked over and startled in surprise at your new state. As soon as Sherlock put a hand on your shoulder, you let out a little cry, shot straight up, and threw the knife from your boot hilt deep into the wall in front of the couch, just inches from John’s face.
As soon as it left your hand, you covered your mouth in horror, “Oh John I am so sorry. I could have killed you…”
You buried your face in your hands and Sherlock went to pull the knife from the wall with a smirk, “Now who’s the one ruining the walls?”
John glared at him to silently tell him to be more serious as he approached to tug at it until it came loose, “Very forceful throw little sister. I’m impressed though I’m afraid I’ll be confiscating this for the time being. I can’t have you killing John all willy nilly.”
“Take it. I don’t care.” Came the distressed muffled response from behind your hands and Sherlock went to hide the blade somewhere safe.
John looked at the hole a couple of times, waving a hand in front of his face to copy the blades trajectory which literally came within an inch of his face, and then got up to sit next you.
You weren’t crying just sitting in shock, hands concealing your face and your shoulders still shaking slightly. He reached out and cautiously draped an arm over your shoulders, you stiffened a little but didn’t jump away, “What were you dreaming about?”
You looked up at him warily but his eyes seemed to tell you that he understood more than you could know. Your answer came out at barely a whisper, “The night I was caught and how I got that bruise on my shoulder.”
Your hand instinctively went to wrap protectively around your shoulder but found John’s hand instead, without thinking he intertwined it with yours. You turned to look into his eyes, searching them for any anger, and your free hand went to cup his cheek.
John’s breath hitched slightly at the gentle contact and he began mirroring your search of his face, looking for any sign that would give him a clue as to what you were thinking.
Sherlock cleared his throat loudly from across the room and the two of you jumped apart, your face turning pearl pink and John clearing his throat, “Right then. Sorry about that.”
He looked back to the hole in the wall, “D’you think you could teach me how to do that?”
You looked at him quizzically, one eyebrow raised, “I almost kill you and you want me to teach you how I did it...?”
John gave you a secretive smile and a small nod, to which you sighed, “Ok. I don’t see why not. Lestrade probably wont care if you come with me.”
Both Sherlock and John gave you questioning looks and you laughed, “What? You boys didn’t really think I was going to let myself get rusty with all the trouble you get into on a regular basis. I got him to agree to let me use New Scotland Yard’s facilities when we were there last.”
You turned to face John, reaching forward to fiddle with the edge of his sleeve, and gave him some intense puppy dog eyes “I’m so very sorry for having almost killed you. I promise it won’t happen again. Please say you’ll forgive me.”
John's heart did a flip in his chest and he wanted to just sit there at gape at the adorable face you were giving him but he managed to keep it under control, giving you a small smile instead, “I forgive you (sF/n).”
You giggled and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before sashaying out of the room, “I’m going over to New Scotland Yard at noon. Meet me there at one.”
John’s fingers went to put light pressure to where you had kissed him as he stared off into space with a little smile on his face. As soon as you were out of earshot Sherlock hissed at him, “Don’t even think about it John.”
“What are you talking about now Sherlock?”
“You’re thinking about my sister in a romantic way. I demand that you stop it immediately.”
John smirked, this was his chance to mess with Sherlock a bit, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”
Sherlock eyes narrowed, “Yes you do. I know you do.”
“I haven’t the faintest.”
“Stop denying it John. I can tell you know.”
This exchange continued for while and John was beginning to have trouble biting back the laughter, Sherlock’s face was scrunched up so thoroughly he thought it might stay that way. He hoped it would stay that way.
He pressed at his flatmate one more time, “Really Sherlock, I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.”
Sherlock looked ready to explode when you walked in with a gym bag slung over your shoulder and poked him in the face, “You keep making that face it’ll stick that way. What is it that Sherlock thinks you should know John?”
John floundered, he hadn’t even considered the idea that you’d walk in, Sherlock on the other hand saw an opportunity, “I was telling him stop thinking about you in a romantic way and now he’s acting like he has no idea what I’m talking about.”
You rolled your eyes, managing to keep your blush in just your ears, “This again Sherly? What did I tell you yesterday about this exact topic? Leave him be.”
John joined the conversation before Sherlock could answer, “You talked about me romantically yesterday?”
You waved at hand at him, “I told him that you were very obviously on a date and even if you weren’t people can’t just ‘stop’ things like that.”
John pursed his lips at this and then realized what you’d just said, his head snapped to where you were but the door was already closing behind you. He asked questions the empty space, “Did she just-What was she-You and she-“
Sherlock sat down and pulled his violin into his lap. Before beginning to pluck at it obnoxiously, he flatly stated, “Really John. It’s obvious she fancies you. Are you that slow? The two of you need to stop.”