CHAPTER 9

John woke up on a beautiful Sunday morning – the couple’s only day off – to Angie’s side of the bed cold. While this wasn’t an unusual occurrence on any other day, it was for a Sunday. John walked out of the bedroom still in his pyjamas and his blue and white striped robe. What he saw at the kitchen counter was quite the surprise as he hadn’t seen this for a few years. Angie was surrounded by splayed out papers and her laptop open. She was asleep, a somewhat rare occurrence for her.

Angie’s tight ponytail was now extremely messy with strands flying out in all directions and stuck to her face. She was still in her police shirt and pants, although her shirt was untucked. Angie’s laptop was open to a website about PTSD. That was all John saw before the laptop turned off. Because the laptop was still on when he walked into the kitchen, meaning Angie hadn’t been asleep all that long.

John decided to leave her be as he knew very well how much trouble she has sleeping and that even draping a blanket on her would wake her up. He went into the lounge room to read some of his favourite stories on AO3. He had never told anyone, including Angie, but sometimes he even wrote his own stories. Though he would never admit it, he was a massive nerd and loved Sherlock. It was the reason he became a detective in the first place and his love for it never faltered.

After a few hours of reading John decided to check on Angie still in the kitchen. She was stirring and John recognised that she was beginning to wake up. John suddenly felt upset that she was waking, not just because he could no longer read, but because he knew she hadn’t slept for a few days and only had a few hours of sleep. He started to make a cup of coffee for his beloved wife.

Angie’s eyes fluttered open as she lifted her head looking around feeling disorientated. She looked at the time and tiredly groaned.

“Why didn’t you wake me.” She muttered drowsily.

“Because,” John said sliding into the seat next to her, “You looked so peaceful and I haven’t seen you sleep in a few days.” Angie murmured incoherently as she let her head droop onto John’s shoulder. The movement caused her to cry out in pain as her abdomen was aching more than anything. John, concerned, gave her some paracetamol and helped her onto the couch. His uneasiness grew as her steps were unsteady and she leaned heavily on him while walking.

John thought about the last few days and weeks. Angie had been more forgetful lately, but it was just the names of objects, it wasn’t like she had ever forgotten something big. It was just an everyday thing he had thought at the time. He also remembered that sometimes she had been lightheaded when getting up, but she had never been close to fainting or even collapsing. He then recalled something he had found a little unsettling at the time. She had always pushed him away when she felt anxious or was near a panic attack, however he had noticed that she was pulling away more than normal. At the time he thought it was the stress of work, but now he was really worried for Angie.