It has been a week, by my count. A week of John not talking to me, and John locking himself away in his room. It had been a week with no company, no meals John would force me to eat. It had been a week, and the man I upset could still be heard sobbing whenever I begin to play my violin. I approached his door up the stairs a few times, just standing in front of it. I never knocked, but I always heard the light sniffling and sobbing of the grown man. I felt my chest tighten, knowing I was the cause of his suffering, the reason why he was crying. It was also a week of neverending nightmares for John, a horrible time for him not allowing me to help.

I would stand by the windows, looking out to the London streets. When the sun would go down, and the moon rose above the buildings, I would pick up my violin and play. I played anything that came to mind, the weeping of the melodies expressing the hurt and raw emotion I felt.

"Sherlock, dear?" I heard Mrs. Hudson come up the stairs, the sound of tea cups, clanking on a tray she was carrying. I pulled the bow across the strings, emitting a high pitched sound.

I didn't reply, and continued to play my sorrowful song.

"Oh...Sherlock, did you two have a domestic?" Mrs. Hudson asked, still getting no answer out of me. She sighed, the sounds of her heels scraping the wood as she turned to leave, but stopped. "John...He was worse off than all of us were, Sherlock." She waited a bit for me to respond, but I just listened." When you were gone...I heard him call out your name for the first few months. He would yell out and cry, he would not eat anymore. It were like he had given up...But when you came back, I noticed a light shine in his eyes...One that I haven't seen in a very long time. Give him some time love...He moved on, but when you came back...I suppose you can say Mary was your substitute? No, that would be rude to her."

By now, I was looking at Mrs. Hudson, she had her lips pursed thinking.

"I understand…" I muttered, Mrs. Hudson's eyes locking with mine.

"I hope you do love, he's in a very fragile state...Assuming all that ruckus I heard the other night, he might've started to over think something when you confessed your love….But what do I know, i'm only your landlady." She lowered her gaze to the violin in my hand. "I hear you all day and night… So, of course he'll hear you…He must've missed it so much, your music." She whispered the last part, making me flinch.

I turned away, sighing loudly. Raising the violin and bow, taking a deep breath, I began to play. Mrs. Hudson left the room, muttering words I didn't bother to listen to. I faced the setting sun, waiting for the moon to come up.

I don't really remember how long I was playing the same song over and over for, but I stopped when the moon was high in the night sky. I stopped because I heard the floorboards creaking, and I knew it was John. I turned, and of course I was right. He was wearing a gray shirt and blue pajama pants, his hair was a mess. He had bags under his eyes, he looked gruff and unshaven. I felt a pain in my chest. I should look like that, not him. I have never seen this heterosexual man look like this before, I felt like we switched roles.

"Sherlock." He started. I swallowed hard, looking into his brown eyes. He cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. Apparent nervousness as he licked his lips, rubbing his hands together. "I need to apologize for my actions on these last couple of days...My attitude was horrible... And my sudden anger, my outburst..was uncalled for. And for that...I am sorry, Sherlock." He licked his lips, avoiding eye contact with me.

"John.." I whispered, stepping closer to him. He jumped at how close I got, but I just felt myself smile. " I..Well I said all those things...because I thought that..well I thought that since I had you in my arms..." I broke off, feeling the words hard to come out.

" I shouldn't have blown up... I was just so sad...Everything seemed so surreal. And I feared that I would wake up, and everything would've been a dream...And you would still be dead..." I rubbed John's back, he squeezed me.

"John. I promise that will never happen. I will always be here..." I felt myself begin to shudder, and then I felt a wetness on my face. "I'm here..." I whispered over and over to John, hugging his body close to mine. So close I felt like I would break him, but for right now I just wanted to share the same space with him.

"I know...I know..." I heard John sniffle, and felt him place a hand in my hair.

We stood there, crying into each others arms.

"Sherlock...I've had the worst of nightmares..." John said, causing me to look at him." You were still dead...I was all alone. And when I would a wake, I would hear your violin playing...And I would die, because it messed with my sanity...Sometimes I couldn't even tell fantasy from reality...I-i had to think though, about everything that's happened." I pulled away from him, holding him in front of me.

"I know...I can tell John," I softly caressed the side of his face, holding it there as he quietly looked at me. "You need your rest...And I intend to be there with you while you sleep...So I can wake you from your night terrors..." I suddenly felt shy as we looked into each others eyes. I just asked to share a bed with John...Again.

John smiled widely, a genuine smile, filling me up with a sensation of peace.

"Oh God, yes." He simply said, grabbing my hand and leading us up to his room. And for those with a dirty mind, we did nothing. We simply went under the covers...And held each other. As though if we were to let go, we would die. We lazily gave kisses to one another, and whispered the occasional 'I love you'. And I felt at peace, and I hoped John felt the same.

After a while John's kisses stopped and his 'I love you's would somewhat be slurred with sleep, and soon his breathing was soft. I felt his breath against my neck, relaxing me as he slept in my arms.

"Goodnight John..." I whispered into his hair, kissing him lightly feeling my eyelids get heavy. I hadn't slept all but a few hours over the course of this week, my mind jumbled with ways to get John to talk to me again. And I was correct about the 'giving him space' method, it was all he needed.

"Sherlock, I love you..." He whispered back to me sleepily, making me smile.

"And I love you, John." I spoke back to him.

And that night, and all other nights ahead of us, we slept in each others arms, clinging for sanity of our love. A love that unlike anything else, of course even these cliche words can make you doubt. But what Dr. John Hamish Watson and I had, will live on written in the stars, written in untold history, and written in books...