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John was getting ready for bed when his door opened and Sherlock entered.

"Hey, Sherlock."

"I'd like to sleep with you."

"Okay."

Nodding, Sherlock walked over and climbed into John's bed. Smiling, John got in after him.

After a few moments, Sherlock spoke.

"Did my brother ask you about the pills?"

John nodded. "He knows you took them--I mean, took them from your mum's house. But I don't know if he knows you took one... you know what I mean..."

"Did you tell him?"

"Of course not," John replied. "Sherlock, I told you that nothing you shared with me would leave this room. Did you think I was lying?"

There was a pause.

John sighed. "I meant it, Sherlock. I still do."

"You'd keep secrets from my brother?"

"If you want me to. And if it's not dangerous. Granted, taking someone else's medication isn't the safest thing to do, but..." John shrugged. "Still, if it's just... you're upset about something, or something happened you want to talk to me about, and don't want your brother to know, that's fine."

"Okay. I won’t tell anyone about the things you tell me, either."

John smiled. "Thanks. I'm not sure who you'd tell, but it's a nice thought."

Sherlock smiled back. Then he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

John woke up in the middle of the night to find that Sherlock had snuggled up to him. His head was resting on John's chest, and he was holding John's shirt as he had the night before. This meant John's arm was smushed between their bodies; it was actually starting to go numb. He slowly moved his arm out from between them. Holding it out with no real place to put it, he finally, carefully, rested it on Sherlock's waist. Sherlock moved a bit, but didn't wake up. Smiling, John relaxed and fell back to sleep.

The next two weeks went by pretty much the same as the previous ones. The only real difference was that every night, Sherlock would join John in bed. They rarely just went right to sleep, usually talking over the events of the day, or planning the next before they finally settled down.

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