AN/ Well hello there. Remember me? Yeah, I don't really remember myself either. Good lord. I won't bore you all with the woes of my life, but I'm just glad to be here, still able to write.
If you've wandered here from my Hetalia stuff- welcome! I've found a new fandom, and have dived in head-first. I highly suggest watching Sherlock if you haven't already, because it is a spectacular show. If you're reading my stuff for the first time, finding me through Sherlock- hello, welcome to the insanity. No, I kid. Mostly. Either way, I hop you enjoy this little story of mine, because I had a lot of fun writing it and getting into John and Sherlock's head. The story is complete, with 8 loosely-related chapters- I think I'll probably post a chapter a week. Keep an eye on this space, because I'm forcing myself to write, so hopefully I can get back to being busy on here. Much love, and please let me know what you think!
I do not own BBC Sherlock or its characters- I just enjoy borrowing them from time to time for my own entertainment.
Sleep
My watch is doing a spectacular job of reminding me that it is 5:44 in the morning, I've slept for all of ten, maybe fifteen minutes max in the past 48 hours, and there is no foreseeable end in sight to this case. How my watch is telling me all this I'm not sure, but it's there between the constant flow of the second hand and the more gradual tick of the minute hand. I pause in staring at the time piece in question to watch my flatmate where he's standing, stock still as a statue, before our familiarly note-strewn fireplace; although he isn't moving, he also isn't entirely silent- snippets of rapid-fire contemplation float through the slightly chilled air of the flat, things that don't make sense to my half-awake ears (wouldn't make sense even if I were all-awake) but are undoubtedly vital pieces of solving this unsolvable puzzle.
"Duck... bananas... forest... hydrangea... lemon candy..." The constant cadence of his voice -more constant than time itself- does well to drag my mind rebelliously toward unconsciousness, and I drag a hand over my face as I finally come to a decision, one I'm sure will go unnoticed for the moment either way.
"Sherlock, I'm going to take a kip- you don't need me right now, and I'll be even less use to you than I normally am if I'm falling over in a dead faint from exhaustion while chasing your birds and bananas and flowers around London." He doesn't move, but time falters as his words fall flat for a moment.
"Duck, not a bird. And not just any flower, a hydrangea. Very well, I can see you're mostly asleep on me anyway..." Time comes to a complete stop as his voice falls away completely, and I blink in surprise from where I've carefully pushed myself into a standing position, swaying unsteadily on my feet as the world seems to tilt slightly off kilter. "Where are you going?" I smother my yawn in my palm, blinking drowsily at the man who has suddenly turned to stare at me.
"I just said, didn't I? Bed." I think the blank mask of his face slips for a moment, revealing a whirlwind of emotions I can't quite comprehend, but it's gone so quickly I brush it off as another semi-hallucination from my sleep-deprived brain.
"You should sleep down here in case something clicks and we need to leave quickly. I'd rather not waste time by having to go upstairs to rouse you." I quirk an eyebrow at him, but nonetheless can't find fault in his 'Sherlock logic'.
"Right. Well, can I just use your room?" He hesitates, and the slightest bit of alarm fires up in the back of my mind. "Sherlock?" He turns sharply to return his focus back to the casework, although I can tell from his posture that his mind isn't on it.
"Can't. My bed isn't exactly sleep-appropriate at the moment." I let out an exasperated sigh, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes with exhausted frustration before I respond.
"Sherlock, we talked about not having experiments in your bedroom. The kitchen is bad enough..." He turns his head just enough that I can see his lips turned up in a small smile, but the way the moonlight slants across his face makes it impossible to fully read his expression. "Where would you suggest I sleep then, Sherlock, if not upstairs and not in your room?" He stays silent, but I can see tension tighten his shoulders, and I begin to wonder at his behavior; it's not until he gives a single twitch under my stare and clasps his hands behind his back that something clicks. He's nervous about this case. Things aren't quite fitting together and he can't figure out whom or what or why. So... A burst of affection for this peculiar man who has exploded across my life warms my chest, and a small, disbelieving smile splits my face unbidden. He's trying to tell me he doesn't want to be alone, not while he's feeling so in the dark. He doesn't want to be separated from his 'partner-in-crime' while he doesn't know what to expect. I sigh and shake my head with a glimmer of amusement, turning to head up the stairs to my room, aware of the gaze suddenly pinned to my retreating back.
By the time I've come back downstairs with my pillow under one arm and a thick blanket over my shoulder, he has already sunk back into the case, but his entire form noticeably relaxes as I drop my bedding on the couch. I ignore the amused looks he's shooting surreptitiously at me as I settle into the cushions with grumbled complaints about the size and lack of comfort of the couch, stretching out on my back with a hand tucked under my neck and the other draped across my stomach. "Goodnight, Sherlock." I glance over at him briefly to catch him looking away quickly, and grin in spite of myself.
"Goodnight, John. Sleep well."
And if I wake a few hours later to find that my pillow has mysteriously been replaced by a warm, firm thigh and that long, slender fingers are tangled in my hair, I brush it off as yet another semi-hallucination from my sleep-deprived brain with a smile and rejoin my friend and flatmate in sleep.
AN/ Again, please leave a review below to let me know what you think, and feel free to give me any suggestions on how I can improve!
Also, Sherlock's random string of words are actually references to five of my favorite Johnlock stories. I would highly suggest reading all of them if you haven't already!
Of Feathers and Bacon Sandwiches- ducks
A Cure for Boredom- bananas
Northwestern Passage- forest
Performance in a Leading Role- hydrangea
Just a Kiss- lemon candy