Just Trying to Graduate

Aubry Plaza dance sequence from Legion

John wakes and feels tears on his face. His heart is pounding but he doesn’t quite know why- he can’t remember the specifics of the nightmare, he can only remember the vague feeling of running, of danger coming and him being unable to stop it.

He briefly wonders if this is the only reason he has woken but then he hears Rosie’s cries through the baby monitor. Sherlock stirs next to him and makes a deep “Hmmm?” noise, hovering between deep sleep and the beginnings of waking up.

John quickly reaches across and turns the baby monitor off. It’s not fair, it’s not fair on Sherlock.

He slips out of bed and goes to her. She is red faced with crying, little hands making little stubborn fists. John picks her up and she squirms. “Come on, Rosie, it’s okay,” he whispers, but he knows he doesn’t sound at all convincing. Pathetic.

She’s still hiccuping with the force of her tiny cries. John doesn’t know what to do. He carries her through to the living room, stands in front of his arm chair and tries to rock her.

But he knows nothing he’s doing is working- he can’t even soothe her with words now, his breathing is still all shallow and wrong, and she’s picking up on that, she can feel his chest heaving and John knows, God he knows, he’s just making everything worse, like al-

He feels Rosie being taken out of his arms. John inhales and gasps before noticing- it’s Sherlock, of course, standing in front of him. Beautiful, warm and safe and sleepy Sherlock.

“John,” Sherlock says. He tucks Rosie into his exposed shoulder, cupping her head gently with his hand. “John, it’s alright. Sit down.”

John feels like he can’t breathe. “John,” Sherlock repeats. His voice is soft and low and so incredibly thoughtful. “You can sit down, it’s okay.”

John doesn’t so much as sit down as collapse into his chair. Sherlock walks away with Rosie and John can hear him soothing her in the distance: “Hush, now. I know, I know, enough of that now, my darling girl. Hush. Hush. Ssh…”

John keeps breathing. He doesn’t know how much time passes, he’s only aware of Sherlock suddenly crouching down in front of him.

“That’s her drifted off again,” Sherlock says. His smile is so wide and genuine that the guilt pierces John all the more.

“Christ, I’m-Sher-I’m sorry. I just seem to m-make things worse.”

Sherlock shakes his head. Patient. God, how John loves him. “You know that’s not true, John. Besides-” He starts to grin a little- “- you got her the last two nights before I even woke up. It was my turn.”

John tries to laugh, but his breathing still feels all strange and wrong. Sherlock stands up. “Do you want- I could make some tea? Or water?”

“N-no. It’s okay, Sherlock, you go back to bed. I’ll just sit here, I’ll be fine in a minute.”

John closes his eyes, breathes in and out. He hears Sherlock’s footsteps fade away. Good. The man needs his rest.

But then, then come the oh so quiet notes of Sherlock’s violin. John opens his eyes and smiles. Sherlock is standing by the window, looking out into the night. He plays slowly and carefully, and John focusses on his breathing, relishing it becoming deep and even.

By the time John realises exactly what Sherlock is doing, he’s almost nodded off. The notes are soft and so slow, and John allows himself to follow them and…and he doesn’t know when his eyes were getting too heavy, but…and have they closed?…yes, he supposes they must…and his head, he can feel it moving forward down to his chest, and that’s fine…that’s…

A hand on his knee. John’s head slowly comes back up, his eyes open just enough to see Sherlock looking at him with the fondest smile.

“Come on, my good man, to bed with you,” he says.

John nods. It sounds like the best idea Sherlock’s ever had. He follows Sherlock as if wallowing through a heavy cloud- not inconvenient, it’s just everything seems so…slow…

He feels sleep pulling, he’s ready to be pulled under. He turns to Sherlock, half surprised that they’re back in bed. “Mmm, thanks Sher-” He yawns and Sherlock pulls him close, and John can’t keep his eyes open any longer. “Love you,” he manages.

He feels Sherlock press a kiss to his hair. He’s sinking down, down into the bed, his body so wonderfully heavy…

“Hush, now,” Sherlock says. “I love you, too.”

And John finally lets himself sleep.

Do you know who else is unmarried, distant from their close relatives and practical about death?

My heart is exploding from all the cuteness.

i wish it wasnt so dark but he RESTS HIS CHEEK FURTHER ON JOHNS HEAD

i’m in

he probably pulled him in even closer too like that motion of resting his cheek on his head is most natural when also pulling him closer to his chest

Artistic Parallels

I’ve never laughed harder honestly

i’m not just a ‘me’

i’m also a ‘we’

so go fuck yourself, aquinas

“is ‘we don’t believe what’s on tv’ about Josh?”

Tyler: haha no. but that’s hilarious.