Fresh, white daylight bled through the curtains of the bedroom in 221B, successfully waking the sleeping detective. He let out a tired groan and flopped over to the other side of the bed, pleased to find that his doctor hadn't left yet and was, in fact, still sleeping.
His long, graceful fingers traced around John's waist and drew him closer until he was pressed up against Sherlock's chest. The detective rested his mouth on John's shoulder and murmured "Wake up, John" with a kiss where his lips rested. The doctor followed the orders quickly, cracking his eyes open and turning around so that they laid face-to-face.
Calloused hands rested on chest of the thin-framed man and John gave Sherlock a soft, but wide, smile. "Good morning," he whispered, morning leaking into his voice as he wrapped his arms around him and sunk a little lower into his chest, which he rested his head gingerly on before Sherlock nuzzled his face into dirty blonde hair with a sigh.
His slender hands moved up and down John's back lovingly as he whispered affection into unbrushed hair. They laid that way, taking in each other's scent and enjoying the warm sunlight that washed over them, for several minutes until there was a crash on the floor beneath them and a shrill woman's voice called for help as she bustled up the stairs. Sherlock smiled widely as he detached himself from his companion and threw on proper clothes, "This day just keeps getting better," he grinned, tossing John his pile of clothes and walking out of the room.