The mess you've made

Chapter one

Sherlock's eyes fluttered open but he closed them straight away and groaned. It was nearing lunchtime yet Sherlock was still tired from almost a week of sleepless nights during a case. The case was a long ordeal, and had ended in a chase. He remembers the way John skilfully tackled the criminal to the ground and pointed the gun at him with steady hands while Sherlock called Lestrade. Sherlock loves how John can be so steady and calm during these situations, and how he can stare danger right in the eye and not be the first to blink. He loves how John can be so anchored and bossy and steady one minute, yet so calm and gentle and sweet the next. Sherlock thinks of the way John's smile lights up the room, spreading warm light around the room, chasing away every dark shadow, making his stomach flip in a way it never ever had before. John's smile is the highlight of his day and he finds himself (secretly) continually trying to make John smile and laugh.

Sherlock rolled over and buried his face in his pillows, wincing at the light that invaded his eyes when he opened them again. He has brief memories of John waking him up earlier that morning to tell him that he got called into work and that the kettle had just boiled if he wanted tea and then he smoothed back Sherlock's curls before leaving. He remembers the way he sleepily lent into John's touch, trying to snuggle closer, wanting- needing to be closer. Sherlock wanted to beg him to stay- to climb into his bed and forget about work and the rest of the world and smooth back his curls until he fell asleep again and then tell John how he really feels about him when he wakes up. But instead he grunted to acknowledge John's words and rolled over to turn his back to John until he heard John leave his room.

His thoughts were interrupted by four knocks coming from the front door downstairs. Sherlock didn't even give this a second thought, he knew Mrs Hudson would get it. A few seconds pas and the knocks sounded again, sounding more urgent this time.

"Mrs Hudson!" Sherlock shouted.

He was answered with silence until more knocks sounded.

"Mrs Hudson the door!" He yelled.

Sherlock sat up and listened carefully for his landlady's moments but heard nothing. She must be out already, he thought to himself. The detective growled and stood up sleepily, realising he's naked (as he usually sleeps). He scoops up his sheet and wraps it around himself, covering up the important parts before swinging his door open and marching down the hallway. As the sleepy detective made his way downstairs more knocks banged on the door.

"I'm coming!" He yelled impatiently.

He reached the landing and angrily flung open then door, startling the woman on the other side. It was Harry, John's sister. Her hair was messy and her face was flushed as though she'd been rushing around, and she was holding her child in her arms along with a baby bag.

"Oh I'm sorry, I've woken you." She said looking at the sheet hanging loosely around Sherlock's waist.

"Never mind that Harriet," Sherlock said waiving his hand in the air dismissively, "What can I do for you?"

"Sherlock, how many times do I have to tell you. It's Harry. Harriet makes me sound like a little girl. And I'm looking for John. Is he in?"

"John was called into work early this morning. Although he should be back in a few hours." Sherlock took in the expression on Harry's face and frowned, "Is there anything I can do?"

She sighed and adjusted her hold on her child, "It's just my babysitter cancelled on me this morning and I have a counselling appointment with Clara. We're trying to fix things between us you know. We don't want Sammy to grow up with his parents separated. And I was hoping maybe John would like to look after his nephew for a few hours..."