Sherlock: Before He Became a Consulting Detective

15. Nightly Visits

John sat at the breakfast table, hanging his head like a wilted flower. After Sherlock woke him, he changed his position, sagged down to the right side and supported his head with his hand.

Sherlock sat with the newspaper in front of his face, reading. Every now and again, he picked up the cup of coffee, took a sip and put it back on the table without looking away from the paper. "John?" He lowered the left side of the newspaper and glanced at him. "John, wake up. What are you doing at night, definitely not sleeping?

He jumped upright, rubbed his eyes and pulled his face. "I can't keep my bloody eyes open." He stood up, warmed his cup of coffee in the microwave oven and sat down again. He drank half of the coffee, picked up the fork and moved the scrambled eggs from side to side in his plate.

After Sherlock reached the last page of the newspaper, he folded it in half and put it on the table. "John, you have to eat. You can't start your day on an empty stomach."

He put the fork down. "You never eat breakfast."

"I don't have to eat. When I'm working I'm not eating." He drank the last bit of coffee in his cup. "Why are you so tired these last few days? What is bugging you?"

John shook his head, took a bite of the eggs and chewed on it as if it was a piece of gum. He never told Sherlock about the nightmares, neither about his nightly visits to calm him down. "It's my blog. I don't keep track of time when I write," he fibbed.

"You don't need to blog about all our cases. Who reads it anyway?"

"You'd be surprise. I had over two thousand hits on the previous one."

Sherlock sighed. "I see in the paper there's a serial killer loose in London again. Three women strangled already, I'm expecting a call from Lestrade soon."

"Are we doing anything today?"

"No, why?"

John pushed his plate aside and stood up. "I'm going back to bed, wake me after two hours."

Sherlock pulled a face when he left the table. "What am I going to do all by myself?"

"What you did before I moved in with you."

***

When John woke after four hours of sleep, he glanced at the clock radio and jumped out of bed when he noticed the time. Sherlock didn't wake him after two hours, as he asked. He straightened his clothes and rushed into the living room. "Sherlock," he called out. He glanced inside the kitchen and in the bathroom. He was alone in the flat. Where could Sherlock be?

John rushed downstairs to Missis Hudson's flat and knocked on the door.

She opened up and smiled. "John, did you have a nice nap? Come in, dear."

"No thank you, Missis Hudson. I'm looking for Sherlock?"

"He said you would come looking for him. He's at St. Bart's, at the morgue."

His eyes enlarged. "The morgue, what's he doing there? Did Lestrade call him for a case?"

"No dear, he called Molly to find out if she has any fresh cadavers." She grimaced while her body shuddered.

John furrowed his brows while gaping at her. "What does he want with... Oh, never mind." He raced back up the stairs, grabbed his jacket and ran down again.

He stood a while before a taxi stopped next to him. He jumped in, gave the hospital's address and stared out the window after he moved back in the seat.