This fic is dedicated to my dear friend Micha, who unites chaos and security in one person.
Chapter1: Beautiful Melody
Watson shifts uncomfortably in his sleep, memories of Afghanistan haunting his dreams.
He is bolting upright, suddenly wide awake, suppressing his scream. It takes some time to get his breathing back to normal. He hides his face in his hands, weary, tired, but not able to get back into sleep again. The former soldier knows fully well they are waiting, the ghosts of people long dead, eager to pull him down into nothingness along with them.
He hears the annoying sound of Sherlock plucking on his violin - again. Watson sighs, contemplating to give his flatmate a lecture about proper times for playing, but decides not to. He is rather grateful the sound has woken him, interrupting his nightmare.
He gets up instead, limping down the stairs drowsily, heading for the kitchen. When the kettle is wheezing and he puts his shaking hands around a comfortably warm mug of steaming tea, he begins to feel better.
He leans against the kitchen door frame, listening to Sherlock, who is playing real music for once. It´s a sad melody, intense and touching. Watson keeps standing, not daring to move, fearing Sherlock will stop if he´s disturbed.
Watson closes his eyes, lets the music wash over him, lets the music wash the nightmare away. He is smiling faintly, savouring the melody´s beauty.
Chapter2: Violin at odd times
Nightmares. John has not told him, but Sherlock knows. An easy deduction depending on the doctor´s shifting and sleeping pattern.
Sherlock thinks about it as a fascinating thing to study first.
His enthusiasm fades when he realizes how pale and tired the doctor looks in the morning, the psychosomatic limp worse.
Sherlock turns his study to How-to-wake-John-from nightmares-effectively-without-the-doctor-getting- angry-with-him. Experiments in this field lead to the giant discovery that John resents Sherlock lingering in his room when he wakes up, no matter if it´s sitting in the old armchair, on the bed, or ... After getting a punch for ignoring personal boundaries, Sherlock avoids John´s room at night.
Waking John from the distance by blowing the experiments on the kitchen table up or shooting at the wall is ineffective. The doctor is grumpy afterwards, so Sherlock dismisses the method.
In the end, the only possibility left is the violin. To Sherlock's amazement, John does not mind the playing. Sometimes he even comes down the stairs to listen, a faint smile on his face.
Sherlock files the result of the violin experiment as a full success. He has to play at even odder times than before now. But he wants his doctor to be happy, so it´s no bother.