Skinny Love

Cuddle With Me

"John." 

John looked up from his laptop and to his flatmate who was sitting rather weirdly on the couch. Legs apart - so apart that the stitches on the crotch of his pajamas almost gave up -, one hand on his hips and the other resting on his crotch area.

What is with him?

Sherlock looked at him intensely. Like a panther looking at his prey. Like a panther who is waiting to eat up its prey. Eyes dark, pupils dilated and if John was not mistaken, something had flickered in his flatmates eyes. 

The army doctor raised a brow at that before speaking and asking Sherlock.

"What is it?"

Sherlock smirked and John didn't miss that. That little smile on the detective's face as he shifted on his seat and went to his I-Am-Thinking position told John that the madman might have thought of something ridiculous and might ask him to do participate on that particular thing. 

John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Anything will do, really. Anything but having a staring contest with a decapitated head would do. They did that last week (because Sherlock was bored) and John had almost spent the entire night staring at the ceiling, troubled and scared. 

"What is it?" John repeated, closing his eyes. Why'd he even bother to ask Sherlock again? He knew that it wasn't gonna be a good idea, so why the hell did he just do that?

Sherlock grinned, and with no hesitation he said: "Cuddle with me." 

John felt like something hard fell on top of his head and birds were chirping and flying around him after hearing that. 

Cuddle with me? Did he just hear Sherlock Holmes, - the world's only consulting detective, a self-proclaimed sociopath, and a man who's married to his work - say that? Did he?

He had to gently and violently shake his head just to get what Sherlock just said.  

What?

After pondering - if you can call it pondering since it only lasted for seconds - John just felt like he had to ask Sherlock again. He needed the clarification because maybe he was just imagining things. 

"I'm sorry... what?" 

Sherlock groaned, irritated. He ruffled his curls angrily and glared at John. 

"You heard it the first time I said it and what you're doing now is completely idiotic. Don't make me repeat my words, John. Now, come here and CUDDLE WITH ME!" 

Sherlock patted the space beside him. He looked at John and glared when he realized that the doctor was smiling at him. 

"What!" The detective half shouted. 

John chuckled, looking smug and triumphant. "You said 'dont make me repeat my words' but you just did, actually." 

"Fuck off." Sherlock hissed, sounding a little bit angry but he still kept on patting the couch though.

Seconds later, the doctor closed his laptop, stood up and put the computer on his armchair. He walked over to where Sherlock was and with a hand on his hip he asked, "What now?"

Sherlock looked up at him and smiled, "Bored." 

"Oh, yes, of course you are. You are always bored. Why am I still surprised. Now, what is this cuddling thing for?" John let out a sigh. 

"Oh, nothing, really. It's just for an experiment, John." Yes, there was that smirk again... but then Sherlock eyes looked different. Somehow it was close to being hurt. Hurt? Why would he be hurt?