John Watson ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

His favorite jumper had been gone for almost a month. He hadn't really looked until now is because he hadn't really needed it, but since it is currently around -15°C outside and it is also his warmest jumper, he now needed it.

"Have you asked Sherlock, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she placed a cup of tea on the table in front of him. John glanced at Sherlock's bedroom door before he sighed again.

"Worth a try." he mumbled and stood up.

"That's the sprit!" Mrs. Hudson smiled before taking her leave. John didn't turn around.

"Sherlock!" he called, "Sherlock! Have you seen my jumper? The brown and gray one with black lines."

No reply.

John was just about to ask again when he heard rustling and a loud thump, followed by fast footsteps.

Sherlock swung the door open, "What do you want?" he practically groaned. John was unaffected by the rude greeting, he was used to it after all.

"I was wondering if you'd se-"

"No. I have not seen your jumper." Sherlock interrupeted him. He glanced at his bed for a short moment before shutting the door, not giving John time to react.

John stood there for a moment, staring blankly at the door before grumbling curses at everyone and everything.

Later that day, 5:39 PM to be exact, John recieved a phone call from Greg Lestarde, telling him there had been a murder and that he wanted them to come and take a look at it. John accepted it.

He got out of his chair, and unthinkingly, he entered Sherlock's bedroom without announcing his presence. What he saw was not something he had expected. Sherlock lying in his bed, sleeping, hugging a pillow to his chest while wearing his jumper. The one he's been looking for.

It's not like he's mad or anything, just stunned. The great Sherlock Holmes, cuddling a pillow while wearing his jumper.

Totally forgetting about the murder, John stared. This went on for a minute or two before a deep voice, hoarse from the lack of use, interrupted his thoughts.

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to inform me about the phone call you got just a few minutes ago?" It was muffled. John snapped out of it, blinking a few times.

"Uh. It was Lestrade. He wanted us to- uh- take a look at the crime scene. There's been a murder."

"I don't feel like getting up today. Tell Lestrade we're going tomorrow." Was the short reply Sherlock gave before draping the covers over his head. John stood there for another few moments before he slowly turned around and walked away.

Under the covers Sherlock muttered a 'Idiot' after had John closed the door behind him.

The day after Sherlock woke up wearing one of John's other jumpers instead of the one he fell asleep with. It was one of John's older jumpers, which he had probably had quite a while longer than his favorite.

Sherlock didn't mind.