Working on the Edges

Chapter five

John woke to the sound of people moving around in the house and Sherlock, next to him, completely hidden under the duvet except for his mop of hair. He had nudged closer to John overnight, and now had his face pressed completely against John's bad shoulder, which indicated that he had to be truly asleep indeed. John didn't want to jostle him, but of course, now that he was awake, his shoulder was loudly protesting the position it was in.

After a moment of indecision, he decided to try to wriggle away from Sherlock without waking him.

Sherlock mumbled a protest and made a grab for him, but, in doing so, he changed the angle he was resting at, sprawling more fully onto John's chest, and that was a much more comfortable position for John so he stopped trying to wriggle away and let Sherlock settle.

"Do you have anything to do today?" asked Sherlock, sleepily, into John's skin.

John laughed. "I have to get ready for the Olympics, but other than that, I'm entirely free."

"Mmmgood," said Sherlock, and apparently intended to go back to sleep.

Judging from the angle of the sun in the room, John thought he could just let him sleep a little longer before he had to be at practice.

The bedroom door opened, a woman's voice saying, "Sherlock, dear—Oh. I thought I heard interesting goings-on in here last night."

John was at the wrong angle to see the door and couldn't get there without jostling Sherlock.

Sherlock didn't even move, though. Sherlock said, sounding resigned, still lying heavily on John, "Go away, Irene."

"There's coffee on," said Irene, sounding devilish, "if your guest's the type." And then the door closed.

"So much for keeping me secret."

"I knew that was going to happen," Sherlock grumbled. "She needs to know everything."

"You strongly dislike her," John concluded.

"Of course I dislike her. I don't like anybody, John," said Sherlock, but then punctuated the point by snuggling harder against John.

"Okay," John said, marveling at the current evidence to the contrary. "So how are you going to sneak me out of here?"

"Why do you have to go?" Sherlock sounded serious as he said it.

"Because I have practice. Don't you?"

"Today's a mess because of the team competition."

"Team ice skating?" said John.

"Mmm," said Sherlock, sounding disinterested.

"Are you competing in that?" he asked, amazed at how calm Sherlock was being.

"Oh, God, no. Can you think of anything more awful than depending on other people to win you a medal?"

"Um," said John.

"I meant anything more awful for me," said Sherlock, impatiently.

"Right," said John. "So you're not competing."

"No. Everyone else is, but I'm waiting until the individual medals. They wouldn't want me anyways."

That gave John pause. "Why wouldn't they want you?"

"John. Again. Does anything about me say 'team player' to you?"

John agreed that he might not be the epitome of a team player, but still. Well, he supposed it was Sherlock's call. "Well, I have to go to practice. So what's the plan for sneaking me out?"