Beside You- A Johnlock Fanfiction (BBC Sherlock) *UNDER HEAVY EDITING*

Chapter Five- Brother, Dear

Latest reboot added 21/02/14

Without pain, we couldn’t know joy.
- John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

 

Sherlock
I forced my eyes open and groaned at my screaming alarm, irritated with myself for even leaving my phone on. Scolding both myself and the bloody contraption, I slapped the side table half blindly, finally hitting the snooze button after a few useless attempts.

John leapt half a foot into the air at my side. “What the bloody hell is that?!”

“Sorry,” I grumbled, hooking him by the waist with my arm and pulling him back down. This was exactly what I was trying to avoid; waking up. He refused to budge. “Come back,” I moaned.

“Sherlock, we have to get up,” he sighed.

“No.”

“At least let me get my shirt, I’m fucking freezing.”

“Shirts are boring.”

“Sherlock!”

“Ugh.”

With a final effort, I managed to tug him back down to my side. I wrapped him up in the duvet and my arms before he could argue, and put my head on his chest to pin him down.

“There. Shirt not needed. Go. Back. To. Sleep.”

“You really don’t want me to put a shirt on, do you?” he sighed again. I slipped a leg between his and nodded, shutting my eyes and closing off everything but his warmth.

“Your deductive skills are getting better. Now shh.”

I was asleep in under a minute.

John
When your boyfriend is not a morning person, it becomes almost impossible to be one yourself. However, other people did want to talk to us that day. Mrs Hudson, namely, who had conveniently walked in on us lying shirtless on top of eachother when she was bringing in our morning cups of tea (that Sherlock seemed to think appeared out of nowhere every day).

“Oh my Lord!” She cried.

“It’s not what it looks like!” I shook my head frantically, tempted to pull the duvet down to prove that we were actually wearing pyjama bottoms, but I couldn’t move my arms without risking waking Sherlock up.

“Right… I’ll just leave these here and come back later,” Mrs Hudson babbled apologies hurriedly, put our tea on the table and left. “Let me know when you’re… Done.”

“WE DID NOT HAVE SEX!” I blurted out, but she was already gone.

“Sex doesn’t alarm me,” Sherlock mumbled unconsciously. I laughed, and kissed his unruly curls, remembering the day he’d shown up in Buckingham Palace- of all places- wearing nothing but a bedsheet.

And he’d nearly dropped it. Jesus.

Sherlock talked in his sleep a lot, and if I listened closely I could hear that most of the things he said were about me. Most of them made no sense, but that was okay, though the way his lips slowly parted and closed as he dreamt gave me a dilemmatic feeling of wanting to both kiss him and watch him sleep. But it was something I’d have been happy to feel every day if it meant spending the rest of my life with him.

By the time it was ten o’clock, I decided I had to wake him up. He was about as happy about this as I was.

“Sherlock,” I shook him. “Darling, we have to get up.”