John, wake up. "Please"

That alright sweetheart?

When John woke, Sherlock was still pressed up against him but his body had been slipping slightly off John and onto the floor, his feet at odd angles and his lanky arms fallen over the arms of the chair so he resembled more starfish than man.

John chuckled and with a muffled groan pulled Sherlock into his lap properly, still sleeping soundly. John hooked his arm underneath the detectives knees and pulled himself to his feet all while supporting his back as well.

He chuckled quietly to himself, it was like a long stretched version of Rosie. He heaved Sherlock up the hallway to his room and then laid him carefully on the bed, removing his shoes and socks, so that he lay in his trousers and tshirt.

John contemplated removing his jeans so the detective would be comfier but didn't want to cross that line. Not yet. He didn't want to startle Sherlock. It was nice to see the man so happy though.

John went off to make tea after that. Another smile creeping up his lips at how stereotypically British this was. Because "no matter the situation, tea was always necessary" and there was "never an event that could be better without tea."

It was an hour or so later he heard Sherlock stumbling around his room like a drunk man and the easily identifiable sound of hoping on one leg as they tried to get jeans off before the expected thump of their attempt sending them crashing to the floor.

John went up to the consultants door,knocking quietly. "You alright Sherlock?" He called through the wood.

A groan of discomfort and then followed by " yeah, fine" slightly clouded by sleep. John smiled to himself and headed back to the kitchen to make a cup for Sherlock.

He was distracted slightly by Sherlock's door opening and then the gentle pad of bare feet against the carpet of 221b. He then heard a creak and Sherlock was soon sat in the chair at the kitchen table pulling his microscope towards him and sliding a slide underneath that he seemed to procure from out of nowhere.

He adjusted his jacket sleeves before slipping a pipet from one of his pockets. What on earth was that doing in there? John thought.

Reaching over again he picked up some indicator which he then dropped onto a very small droplet of liquid. The colour soon changed from green to a deep purple. Alkaline.

So that means whatever was given to those victims dropped their PH from 7.4 (healthy) to around 3 or 4. Heart failure. Stomach cramps. Etcetera.

"John, the erm, the cold case Greg gave us, the three dead women, we didn't know what had killed them, something causing heart failure and complaints of stomach cramps hours before. They were given an alkaline of PH 0 maybe PH 1 and the affect of this killed them. It's so obviously simple, why didn't they see it?" Sherlock exclaimed banging his palms to the table in exasperation, he'd only received this case yesterday.

"Remarkable" John chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of Sherlock's temple.

"Meretricious, I always solve the case" Sherlock sighed.

"Not that you great klutz, you got it right, you got Lestrades name right, for the first time ever" John chuckled running a hand through Sherlock's curls and receiving a quiet sigh as he decidedly continued his ministrations.

"John, pass me my phone?" Sherlock requested, his head laying back, eyes closed.

John chuckled, "where?"

"Jacket pocket" Sherlock whispered.

Smoother than every other exasperated time, John pressed his front to Sherlock's back, hands meeting at his shoulders before sliding gently down in a smooth caress until they reached Sherlock's chest, causing a hitch to the detectives breath.

He slid his left hand lower to Sherlock's waist, enough pressure not to cause tickling and his right hand under the first layer of clothing, slipping into the jacket pocket and procuring the phone with a grin as he pressed a kiss to the crown of Sherlock's messy chocolate curls. He slipped the phone into Sherlock's slightly trembling hand savouring every touch of fingertips before stepping away, his left hand exploring every figment of the man through fabric.

He could hear Sherlock's breathing more rapid than usual and when he traced the detectives neck with his fingertips he felt the detectives carotid, the pulse beneath begging for attention.

He then went on to make toast with butter and honey which was Sherlock's favourite. During making the toast he leaned against the counter to see Sherlock had only just started to move again. Maybe there was an off switch after all, John smirked.

"John I can see you smiling, why?" Sherlock asked seriously. John didn't realise Sherlock had just seen his smirk through the reflection of a spoon on the counter and had been watching since he'd sat down.

"I'll let you work it out" John said with a wink and after a few seconds he caught sight of the detectives now reddening face as he placed the toast next to his microscope, careful not to disturb anything.

"Not yet love" John whispered into his ear, brushing curls with his lips when he spoke, his breath making Sherlock's skin prickle in goosebumps. "I'm not wasting you, no, I'm gonna take care of you and savour every moment of it"

"John!" Sherlock whined as John swept away again to clean up any mess that had been made. He then went to check on Rosie considering she usually woke up around this time.

"Anyway, cmon, we need to get Rosie up, coming?" John asked softly and offered his hand which after a few seconds of hesitation Sherlock took gently in his own and allowed himself to be pulled up. They walked to the next room and then to Rosie's crib where she was beginning to rouse.

When she finally woke, able to gargle a few words, John and Sherlock both caught onto the three word sentence: "daddy, papa 'lo" she squealed reaching up clammy hands to grab at them.

John lifted her out and handed her to the detective "here Sher, you dress her and change her, I'll prepare her breakfast. Is that alright sweetheart?" John asked as he went to leave the room, watching around the doorframe.

Sherlock blushed pink at the pet name. Sweetheart really? But in all honesty he loved it but he wouldn't be admitting that anytime soon.

"Sherlock, that alright?" John asked again.

"Yes--sorry yeah I'll do that" Sherlock stuttered, turning his back to john after giving him a final warm smile. Face blushed a light pink and a buzzing energy in his stomach. He smiled again to himself. He was happy.