A Study In Sleep

It wasn't often that Sherlock Holmes slept but when he did he was like a long heavy log - which made it difficult for John to move him to his bedroom to sleep more comfortably. 

Also when Sherlock got into a drowsy state he was a bit more emotional and clingy; therefore cuddly. John secretly loved this fact and cherished each time the detective fell into his sleepy state.

It was after Sherlock had solved a long and rather complex case involving the murder of two teenage girls and a the kidnapping of the one's two month-old child when he once more fell into this state.

The murderer and kidnapper had turned out to be the father of the child who'd been pushed out of the mother and child's life then even given a restraining order. Even though it had seemed to be a simple case the man had been smart and covered up his trails near to perfectly.

Finding this man involved both Sherlock and John to run around all of London and even trail along a creek at one in the morning while there was a light drizzle overhead. After catching the suspect in a pool of his own blood, DI Lestrade had taken over and advised both the detective and army doctor to venture back home. Which they gladly did.

It had been a full two weeks of non-stop investigation in addition to the long time spans of pursuit that wore out their limbs and lungs.

Sally Donovan had been nice enough to hail the two a cab - though only on Lestrade's orders. They'd both piled inside, barely being able to mutter their address. If they hadn't been soaking wet and freezing they'd fallen fast asleep slumped in the back of the cab.

Instead they sat slouched in their seats, shivering, and barely able to keep their eyes open. When they had arrived home it was a fight with Sherlock as John tried to get him out of the vehicle and inside to their warm and comfortable flat.

They finally managed to stumble inside and remove their coats. John made Sherlock go into the bathroom and told him to take off his clothes so he could go get him dry ones to put on. John brought the detective a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms before going up to his room to change as well.

Deciding against falling onto his bed and immediately falling asleep, John traveled back down stairs to check on his flat mate - who he found curled up on the shower rug still in the bathroom. He chuckles softly and steps inside to wake him, "Sherlock, come on, mate. You can't sleep on the floor." He murmurs softly.

All the curly-haired man does to respond is groan and turn his face into the rug.  John heaves a deep sigh and leans over to haul Sherlock up by the armpits. 

"J'hn, hold on." Sherlock groans, finding his footing. He presses his hand against the wall and rubs tiredly at his eyes. He stands still and silently for several minutes before slumping over his flat mate and grasping to his pyjama top. 

"Woah!" John calls out in surprise, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's torso to keep him upright. "You've got to help me out here a bit. Let's get to your room, okay?" 

Sherlock nods and lets out a long yawn before standing up. He holds onto the sleeve of John's shirt as they make their way to the detective's bedroom, which is luckily only a few feet down the hallway. Once they get in Sherlock flops onto his bed with a dramatic sigh, "Finally." He huffs.

John leans over and pulls the covers up and over Sherlock's lithe figure, "Good night."

Before he can move to leave the room, Sherlock's hand shoots out and grabs his wrist, pulling him down onto his bed. "Stay." Is all he says.

John is far too tired to argue - besides, walking back up the stairs to his room sounded quite agonizing. "Alright." He mutters, slowly slipping beneath the covers himself. He stretches out his sore and tired limbs before relaxing comfortably on the mattress.

He half expects it when the sleepy detective scoots up close to him and throws his arm over him, pulling him in close. Sherlock's face dips down to rest against his shoulder, and soon his legs find their way to intertwine with John's. Cuddly Sherlock was absolutely the best type of Sherlock.

"Sher . . ." John murmurs, turning his face a bit to look at his flat mate.

This only got Sherlock to completely climb up on top of John, arms wrapping around his neck and face pressing into the crook of his neck.

John lets out a defeated sigh. It was a comfortable weight on him and he rather enjoyed the warmth - and slight comfort. He smiles softly and slowly snakes his arms around Sherlock's waist - causing the detective to hum contently and tighten his grip.

"Goodnight, John." Sherlock whispers.

"Goodnight." John replies, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

. . .

In the morning John arouses feeling rather cold, Sherlock being gone from on top of him. He smiles sadly before slowly pulling himself up onto his feet.

When he steps out of Sherlock's room and into the kitchen he's near to estatic to see his flat mate making them both morning tea. "Good morning, John." He grins.

"Good morning, Sherlock." John grins back.