Johnlock oneshots (2009, RDJ version)

To sleep next to him

What little light of the crescent moon there was shone through Holmes' window. He watched the moonlight fall on the crumpled clothes lying on the floor. He'd been awake for several hours — to be honest he hadn't even been to sleep in the first place. His mind was racing, burning like a furnace, pictures and thoughts running through his head. Mostly about his current case — the unused nail file, the still-warm gaslight, the pearl necklace and the hairpin. It was frustrating, like all the pieces were floating right in front of him, but whenever he reached out to take them they would pull away. He felt like Tantalus, fixed in one place, the cool water and delicious fruit just out of his reach.
He rolled over and shut his eyes, forcing his mind to more pleasant things. Images of Watson flooded his mind. Watson's mouth smiling at him from beneath his moustache, Watson's eyes glinting mischievously when he makes fun of Lestrade, Watson's hands stitching him up after a boxing match, Watson's words scolding him for putting himself in danger.
Holmes sighed. These thoughts were no better. They made his mind race in a different way. He tried to think about something, anything, else, but just landed on his case again. Sleep was not going to come easily tonight. Especially alone.
He stood up, stepping over his crumpled dress shirt and trousers. It was so quiet that he could hear Watson's breathing through the walls. It made his heart ache. Every logical thought told him he should go back to bed, and every bone in his body resisted. His bones won, and he found himself at Watson's door.
    "Watson." He knocked gently and opened the door a crack. "Watson, are you awake?"
    Watson let out a sleepy groan. "I am now, what's wrong?"
    "I..." Holmes swallowed. "I can't sleep."
    "What am I supposed to do about that?" Watson grumbled, turning over to look at Holmes.
    The detective's breath caught in his throat. No matter how many times he saw it, the sight of Watson still ruffled from sleep always filled him with warmth and affection. "Can I sleep with you?"
    A small smile tugged at the corner of Watson's mouth. "Alright." He gestured for Holmes to join him.
    Holmes perched on the edge of the bed for a moment before wriggling under the duvet. He pressed his back along Watson's side, his flatmate's warmth comforting. Watson's arm was pinned beneath his head, providing a rather muscular pillow. Holmes didn't mind, but Watson clearly did. He groaned, pulling his arm from under Holmes' head. He curled towards the detective, his front along Holmes' back. Holmes grinned, grateful Watson couldn't see the giddy blush creeping up his neck. It spread across his face when one of Watson's arms snaked around his waist.
    He lay as still as he could, not wanting Watson's arm to move. The doctor fell asleep against him after a few minutes, his breathing slowing into contented sleep. Holmes twisted carefully, turning to face his flatmate. Watson's arm stayed around his waist. He leant forward, resting his head against Watson's firm chest. He put his own arm around the doctor's waist, settling his hand in the small of his back.
    Watson hummed sleepily. His grip tightened around Holmes' waist, inadvertently pulling the detective closer. Holmes squeezed his eyes shut, grinning against Watson's chest. He was safe and secure in his doctor's arms, all thoughts of the case out of his mind. It didn't take him long to fall asleep too.

This was only proofread once so I apologise if there are mistakes or spelling errors