Who'd Have Known? (JohnLock fanfic... again.)

A/N: based on the song Who'd Have Known by Lily Allen.

Enjoy!!

Who'd Have Known ((JohnLock FanFiction) based after The Great Game)

Sherlock and John sat in the living room working on a case, when John looked up at the clock.

"Oh god, it's 5 o'clock, Sherlock. I need to get to bed soon. I've got to work in the morning." He glanced over at the detective, who just nodded and went back to examining something under his microscope. John began to walk away, but then he stopped when he realized this was the third night in a row that Sherlock had stayed up.

He's on a case, he never sleeps when he's on a case. John told himself, trying to get his feet to move. Come on, John. Just go to bed. John didn't want to sleep- the nightmares had been coming more and more frequently since the incident with Moriarty at the pool. It had scared him so terribly; he could've lost Sherlock. John had made a vow to himself that day, one that he had yet to fulfill. He had vowed to tell Sherlock that he loved him. He hadn't realized it until the man's life was at stake, but he had realized he'd fallen for the gorgeous psychopath the first day they met.

"Um, Sherlock?" John watched the detective turn his head, and look at him curiously.

"Yes- oh, you want me to go to bed." John still didn't know how he did it, but he nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, you haven't slept in a few days and I don't want to repeat what happened last time."

About two weeks ago, Sherlock had gone without sleep for a week and a half while working on a triple-murder. When he had finally solved it (it had been the younger daughter) him and John had walked inside their flat and Sherlock had promptly collapsed on the stairs, sound asleep. John had managed to haul the unconscious detective up the seventeen steps and take him to his room.

"If people saw us right now," John had said, taking off his friend's shoes, "People would definitely talk." When Sherlock was down to his undershirt and trousers, John sat down next to his flatmate, and shortly after, fallen asleep. He woke up a few hours later and hurried out before Sherlock could see him.

"It's only been three days, John. That was at least nine." Sherlock pointed this fact out, and John shrugged, yawning at the same time.

"Yes, whatever. I was just wondering- you know what-" yawn, "never mind. Never mind, I'll just go to bed. Goodnight, Sherlock." John started to walk away- for real this time, when Sherlock's voice drifted across the room.

"My door is unlocked, and it's closer." John glanced back at him, wondering if he was tired enough to imagine that.

"Go, I'm almost done out here." Wait, is he going to let me sleep in his bed, with him?! John stopped for a moment, but yawned once more, and decided to go with it. He was too tired to question it anyway.

"There are some pajama pants in the bottom drawer." Sherlock told him, still not looking up from his work. John grunted in acknowledgement, and began to shuffle towards Sherlock's room, his leg starting to hurt.

There were pajamas in the bottom drawer, just as Sherlock had said. John hurried and changed into them, rolling up the waist a couple times so they weren't so ridiculously long. When he was done they still dragged on the floor, but he gave up and pulled his shirt over his head. His eyelids were beginning to droop, and his footsteps were heavy, but he folded his clothes and sat them on top of the dresser.

Sherlock's bed was big enough for the both of them, and John could tell that he tended to sleep on the left side, closest to the door; the comforter and sheets were a little more crinkled, and the pillow had an indent where Sherlock's head had been a few days ago.