Request~ Sherlock talking in his sleep while the reader and John are sitting in the room (Sherlock x reader). Headcanon
To the anon that requested this: I really enjoyed writing this! I’m not sure this is entirely what you wanted, but I hope you like it!
Sherlock almost never slept, so when he did manage doze off you and John did everything you could to avoid waking him.
Which included, but was not limited to, simply leaving the flat whenever possible, telling Mrs. Hudson that you all didn’t need anything and asking her to stay quiet nearby, and communicating strictly through notes tossed at one another.
After a particularly difficult and exhausting case, all three of you crashed - you had made it back to your flat 221C, and John had made it back to his bedroom, but Sherlock had passed out in his chair. Thankfully, he had managed to change into his pajamas though.
So when you stepped into 221B in the morning, hoping to steal some coffee from the boys, you weren’t surprised to see Sherlock still sleeping. You still felt tired yourself, but your body had refused to let you sleep all day. You’d definitely be going to bed early tonight though.
You found John in the kitchen, already preparing coffee, two mugs on the counter. He offered you a knowing smile, handing you a mug once they were poured.
The two of you went about your day silently - John typing up his blog article for the most recent case, and you researching possible new cases for when Sherlock woke up and was bored again. The two of you tossing paper balls of notes back and forth when you were bored of staring at your screens.
It was around noon that the silence was broken with a voice, albeit a mumbling and gravelly voice speaking words that neither of you could make out. You and John both looked over at the consulting detective curiously, ready to say hello, but you soon realized that he was still asleep.
Sherlock very rarely talked in his sleep, but it did happen on occasion. Usually when he had a lot of things on his mind. Like when the whole Moriarty business was still going on, you often caught him grumbling about the consulting criminal.
“Moriarty… Cabby… Molly, gay… Attractive… James Moriarty… Crown.”
Or when he came back from the dead and Mary was suddenly in the picture.
“Mary… Cat… Only child… Appendix… Engaged, John…. Liar.”
Or when it was just a few days from the wedding, and he was slightly stressed about his best man speech.
But you were surprised he was mumbling now. You’d just finished a case, surely he wasn’t thinking of more work yet… Who were you kidding, it was Sherlock.
John tossed a fresh note to you, hitting you in the temple. You glared playfully at him as he tried not to laugh. You opened the paper as quietly as you could. Listen to him. I don’t think this is work-related.
You raised an eyebrow curiously, leaning forward on the couch to better hear.
At first you still couldn’t make out any words, just soft whimpers. Your eyebrows furrowed. Was this a nightmare?
“No, don’t… Don’t hurt her… I’m the one- the one you want… Don’t… Y/N! No!… Y/N…”
You and John both raised your eyebrows, staring at each other with concern and shock.
John motioned for you to go to Sherlock, quietly walking out of the flat and down to Mrs. Hudson. You knew John wanted you talk to Sherlock. John knew of your feelings for the consulting detective. He was hoping that maybe, finally, something would happen between you two.
You moved from your spot on the couch after John left, stopping beside Sherlock’s armchair and falling to your knees. You gently ran a hand threw Sherlock’s curls, noting how they were starting to stick to his forehead as beads of sweat started to form and a look of clear distress broke out on the man’s face.
Your other hand gripped his arm tightly, giving it a shake.
“Sherlock, wake up. Sherlock! Sherlock, it’s me. Sherl… Sherlock, please wake up. Sherl!”
After a few attempts, the detective finally woke, eyes wild and breathing labored. It took him a few moments to process that it had all been a dream. Just a dream. You were safe. You were right beside him, looking worried, but you were safe.
After a few shaky breathes, he finally relaxed, falling back against the chair and gripping your hand tightly in his.
You offered him a small smile, standing to sit on the arm of the chair and resting your intwined hands on your lap. Your other hand still grazing his curls softly.
“Want to talk about it?”
Sherlock shook his head no.
“Sounded like a nightmare.”
“You said my name… Was I in danger?”
He did squeeze your hand tighter.
“Sherl… I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
“And if, God forbid, something ever happened to me, I’d be safe. Believe me.”
Sherlock finally looked up at you, furrowing his brows and opening his mouth to question you.
But you cut him off.
“I’d be safe because I have you. And John. I’d be safe because I’m a smart woman. John’s taught me how to defend myself. You’ve taught me how to outsmart everyone around me. And… And I know you’d do everything in your power to come save. I fully believe that you would find me before anything terrible happened. I believe in you, Sherlock.”
Sherlock didn’t know what to say to any of that. The idea of you being taken, the idea of anything bad happening to you, made him feel sick to his stomach. It made his heart race. It made his thoughts blur. He never wanted to lose you. And his mind (well at least his limbic system) was yelling the obvious at him, trying to tell him why he felt all these things. Trying to get him to act.
For once he listened and acted instead of talked.
His hand released the death grip he had on yours, wrapped gently around the back of your neck and pulled you down to him. His lips ghosting over yours for a brief second, a moment of uncertainty, before closing the distance.
He was trying to show you everything he felt. He wasn’t the best with feelings. He didn’t know how to communicate what he felt for you. He didn’t know how to verbalize it. So he went strictly on instinct, kissing you with everything he had.
You completely melted into his, sliding from the arm of the chair to his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck, one hand still in his black curls. You’d waited so long for this. You never knew he felt this way about you. But you were so incredibly glad he returned your feelings.
Eventually you two broke apart, panting slightly to catch your breath, your foreheads resting against each other.
“I will always find you, Y/N. I- I love you.”
“I love you too, Sherlock. I’m not going anywhere.”
imagine Greg’s confusion during the first couple of episodes. Like he knows sherlock as this druggie weirdo that like everyone hates and here comes this adorable little man with a limp whos like seemingly so useless but he compliments sherlock and finds him fascinating and Greg’s like wow okay and Sherlock just clings to John like a lost puppy and then when Sherlock comes back to Greg in his flat John’s still there and Greg’s like wow what were they coming here together for what did i interrupt he probably thought that they were on a date or something and then the glare shared between them and Greg sees the whole thing he’s probably like omg it makes so much sense sherlock is gay and then as the seasons progress he probably still thinks they’re together and then Mary comes in and Greg’s probably all like whoa wait like poor papa Lestrade probably wasn’t informed that john and sherlock weren’t together he probably just assumed throughout the whole thing
I just realised that Sherlock and Eurus are the only ones who ever talk about Victor Trevor. Neither Mycroft, nor their parents or John or the police or anyone else. A little boy died and no one thinks it necessary to even mention this. Always provided, of course, that anything of all this is real. Personally, I am quite sure that Sherlock and Eurus are one and the same person, that she is just a facet of his personality. Which fits quite well with the fact that they are the only ones ever to mention to Victor Trevor =Redbeard = a little boy. For me this is one of the strongest pieces of EMP evidence in S4. Thoughts?