Okay, so I am terribly sorry that this update is so late, but I've been busy with college visits and senior pictures and other crap you guys don't care about. I hope you'll forgive me!!

Also, I had an idea, and I was wondering if I could get some feedback for it.I figured that since this story is sort of told from John's point of view, that when I finished this I would rewrite a few chapters from Sherlock's POV and post them as a separate series of one-shots. If this seems like something I should do please tell me, and if there's a chapter you'd like to be rewritten tell me that too. I won't do every chapter, but I figured I could do a few, if anyone's interested in that. Let me know, and thanks for reading!

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Here's chapter sixteen!

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On the day of Matthew's funeral, Sherlock sent a sympathy card to Lucy, and in that card he gave an excuse as to why he couldn't make it and apologized for not being at the funeral. That night, John had fallen asleep in the living room watching a movie, and was roused from his slumber by shouting coming from Sherlock's room.

He'd gotten up from his chair as quickly as he could and ran into Sherlock's room to find the detective sitting up in his bed, his eyes wild and his hair a mess of curls sitting atop his head. He was looking around the room with a strange look on his face, and when his eyes finally landed on John standing in the doorway he seemed to relax.

"Are you okay?" John asked, taking a few steps into the room. "I heard shouting."

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Sherlock said, running a hand through his hair. John watched him and noticed how heavy his breathing was.

"Another nightmare," John said to himself. Sherlock must've heard him though, as he nodded his head and sighed. John walked over to the bed and sat down next to where he guessed Sherlock's feet were. Sherlock stared at him, as if he were expecting John to say something, so John wracked his brain for something to say.

"Was it the same nightmare as last time?" Sherlock shook his head.

"Similar though." He shrugged. "Well, sort of similar."

"Care to explain?"

"Not really." John sighed and nodded his head, then reached over and patted Sherlock's foot.

"Would you like for me to stay for a bit?" he asked, offering a smile. Sherlock nodded his head, then fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes. John watched him as he tried to fall back to sleep, and for some reason he found that the longer he stared at Sherlock, the more he wanted to reach over and smooth down his hair or wipe away the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead. He resisted the urge to do so, however, and instead sat still at the foot of Sherlock's bed and waited for him to fall asleep. When John saw his breathing slow down he removed his hand from Sherlock's foot and placed it in his lap on top of his other one. He sat there for a moment longer, watching Sherlock drift off to sleep, then stood up and left the room.

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As days turned into weeks, Sherlock's nightmares became more frequent and more intense. After a while it got to the point where it wasn't uncommon for John to go with Sherlock into his room when he was tired and would sit with him until he'd fallen asleep, only leaving to go to his own bed after Sherlock had been asleep for a decent amount of time. For some reason it seemed Sherlock slept perfectly fine whenever John was there with him, but whenever he slept alone the nightmares would come. John had begged for Sherlock to talk to him about his terrible dreams, but he always refused, telling John that he was perfectly fine and there was nothing to worry about.

In addition to the fact that he seemed to be getting little to no sleep, Sherlock was back to skipping meals and playing the violin at odd times of the day. Whenever John saw him he looked incredibly exhausted. He was concerned that Sherlock' s nightmares had persisted for so long, but he had given up on trying to get Sherlock to talk about them because each time he did Sherlock would get upset, and he didn't want to cause any trouble. He'd actually been spending the last few days trying to figure out how to approach the subject and not upset Sherlock, so they could finally put an end to these bad dreams and Sherlock could get a decent night's sleep. As soon as he found a way to do that, he was going to have to speak with Sherlock. He hated seeing him doing so poorly and not being able to help.

It wasn't until John began to notice Sherlock nodding off in the middle of his experiments that he decided to take action, no matter what the consequences. He'd walked into the kitchen one day and yanked the sleepy Sherlock away from his microscope, placing both of hands on Sherlock's shoulders to steady him. The fact that Sherlock refused to meet John's gaze told him that he knew what he was about to say.

"Sherlock," he began softly, relaxing his grip on his shoulders. "You've got to do something about these dreams of yours."

"I'm telling you John, it's nothing," Sherlock tried to say, though his words were incredibly slurred. John figured he was just tired, and the fact that he was so exhausted that he couldn't speak properly worried him.

"Sherlock I know that's not true."John let go of Sherlock, and used one hand to grab Sherlock's chin and force him to look up. He offered a friendly smile when Sherlock finally met his gaze. It was easy to see just how tired Sherlock was, but John knew he was probably still going to argue. He hoped that if he kept talking Sherlock would give up and admit to the fact that something was in fact wrong.

"Look, you can tell me anything, you know that right?" Sherlock gave him a small smile and nodded. "Then, why won't you say anything now?" Sherlock just shrugged.

"Not the right time." John was confused by his statement, and told him so. "I know it doesn't make sense, but..." he sighed. "Oh, never mind."

"Can you tell me anything?" Sherlock seemed to consider this for a moment, then shook his head. "Why won't you let me help you?" Sherlock ran a hand over his face and yawned.

"What could you possibly do to help?" John took some time to glance around the room while he tried to think of an answer.

"I could, um, maybe..." he sighed. "Oh, I don't know. When I was little and had nightmares my mum used to-"

"Oh, so treating me like a child is going to make everything better?" John shrugged and felt a smile on his lips.

"I'm just trying to help you." Sherlock turned away from John and began to clean up his experiment. He didn't speak for a while, and neither did John. He wasn't sure whether to stay or to leave, but ultimately decided to stay. After Sherlock had finished putting everything away he turned towards John and smiled.

"Alright."

"What?"

"I said alright. I'll tell you anything you want to know...just not now."

"When?"

"Soon." John felt a wave of relief wash over him, and he smiled.

"Okay, good."

Sherlock gave John a small smile, then disappeared into his room. John went into the living room and sat down in his armchair. Several minutes later Sherlock emerged wearing his trench coat and scarf, and John asked him where he was heading off to.

"I'm just going for a walk," he said, looking down. John considered asking if he could tag along, but he figured Sherlock wanted time by himself. He waved him off as he left the flat, then focused his attention on the television in front of him. Though he tried to keep his mind occupied with thoughts relating to the program he was watching, John found that his mind often wandered to thoughts of Sherlock and what he might be doing at that point in time. John wondered where he had walked to, and what he was thinking about. Sherlock never went for walks, so this was very significant in John's mind. He knew Sherlock was thinking about whatever it was that was causing his nightmares, and when he thought this John's train of thought carried him from thinking about Sherlock's nightmares to when he would sit at the end of Sherlock's bed at night to ensure he had at least a few hours of sleep that night.

Until recently he'd thought it to be quite creepy to watch someone while they slept, but when John was staring down at Sherlock's sleeping face he understood why anyone would do it. When Sherlock was asleep, completely shut off from the world with his eyes shut and his mouth parted slightly, it was fascinating to watch. He looked so peaceful, and so vulnerable, John could barely believe his eyes when he looked down at the sleeping detective. It was mind blowing to think that someone as brilliant and extraordinary as Sherlock could ever appear to be so incredibly human. Though John rather enjoyed staring into Sherlock's amazing multicoloured eyes when he was awake, he didn't mind staring at his eyelids and the long eyelashes that fanned out over his chiseled cheekbones when he was sleeping.

From watching Sherlock John had come to the conclusion that people became more beautiful when they slept. When John realized that in thinking this he was calling Sherlock beautiful he'd been thrown for a loop. Of course, Sherlock's face was aesthetically pleasing; John would have to be insane to say that Sherlock wasn't the least bit attractive, but would John go as far as to call him beautiful? As he thought back to those nights spent in Sherlock's room and images of Sherlock's face filled John's mind, he had to admit that Sherlock was far more than just beautiful. The fact that he was thinking this about another man upset John a little bit, only because he had never thought such things before. Up until now he'd only thought females to be beautiful, but thanks to Sherlock that opinion had changed. The only thing John had yet to figure out was, was this change for the better?

John heard the door open, and looked over with his brow furrowed to see Sherlock removing his gloves. John's eyes remained fixed on Sherlock, unblinking, while his mind processed the fact that he had obviously spent a decent amount of time thinking about how attractive Sherlock was when he slept, and when he was awake for that matter. Sherlock looked up and caught John staring, and gave him a warm smile. It seemed the walk had done him well. He finished removing his gloves, then stuffed them into his pockets before starting to take off his scarf .

"Have a nice walk?" John asked, turning back around in his seat. He heard movement behind him, and guessed that Sherlock had made his way over to the sofa. He heard the sound of a coat being thrown over something, followed by what he guessed was the sound of Sherlock flopping down onto the sofa.

"Yes, thanks for asking." John turned to look at Sherlock, and when he saw Sherlock staring at him with a strange smile on his face he raised an eyebrow. Sherlock's smile only grew and he sat straight up, steepling his fingers together underneath his chin as he continued to stare at John.

"Come with me on a trip," he said after several moments had passed.

"What kind of trip?"

"I figure a nice car ride through the countryside, finally arriving at a cozy little cottage that no one knows about...except for me...where we can stay for a few days."

"Sherlock, why-"

"I told you I'd tell you anything you wanted to know." Sherlock reached up to scratch the back of his head as he talked. "And I will, if you'll come with me."

"But why a cottage in the countryside?"

"You're going to be interrogating me on the cause of my nightmares. I figure it'd be better to do that in a calm and peaceful setting. And what's more calm and peaceful than a secluded country cottage?" John tried to think of something to say back, but found that he could form no convincing argument as to why they shouldn't go out to the country for a few days. In fact, perhaps a few days away from their hectic life in the city was what Sherlock needed. That had been John's logic for dragging Sherlock to Fiji, and though there were still problems when they got back, while they were in that tropical paradise Sherlock had been in a pretty decent mood. John smiled and nodded his head.

"Alright."

When John said this, Sherlock's face lit up with a smile and he hopped up from the couch. He grabbed his coat and scarf, then patted John on the shoulder before walking back to his room, leaving John alone and very confused. Sherlock returned a short while later carrying two cups of tea. He handed one to John before sitting down at the table in the center of the room. John's eyes drifted over in Sherlock's direction and he watched him as he sipped his tea.

"We'll leave for the cottage this weekend," Sherlock said when he noticed John watching him. "I'll drive us there. You can just sit back and relax while you listen to the radio or something." John simply smiled at him and nodded, though on the inside he was far from content or relaxed. Though he was glad Sherlock was finally going to let him in and tell him what had been troubling him, he was afraid of what Sherlock was going to say. Part of the reason for his worry was the fact that Sherlock had often mumbled John's name in his sleep, whether he was having a nightmare or not. John hadn't told Sherlock this, and began to wonder if he should. He decided against it, hoping that Sherlock would just explain everything once they got to the cottage. He was anxious to get to the bottom of Sherlock's troubles, but more than anything John wanted to know why his name was so often on Sherlock's lips while he slept. He knew it wasn't normal to care so much about what someone dreamed about, but John tried to rationalize his concern. He tried to convince himself that he cared so much because Sherlock is his best friend, but when he looked over and saw Sherlock smiling at him, his heart raced and he knew that wasn't the only reason. John understood now that the feelings he had for Sherlock were stronger than that of just friendship.