John watched silently as Sherlock squeezed into his jumper, "What is this about?" he asked. He knew the detective had explained it countless times, and he agreed to wearing the button-up, scarf, and over-sized coat, but this all still seemed a little strange to him.
"I told you, John. If you're going to be leaving, I want my clothes to smell like you," he explained with an uncharacteristically little amount of logic.
"Sherlock, you're overreacting, I'm only going to be gone for two weeks," he said, "Plus we share a bed, you could just sleep on my side if you really needed to."
"I thought about that," he said, silently reconsidering the possibility, "But, no, I've decided that this is the only way that I can deal with you leaving."
John sighed, watching Sherlock tug at the short sleeves of his jumper, "But, why do you have to wear my clothes?"
Sherlock smiled, shrugging awkwardly through the layers of tight-fitting clothing, "I'm not really sure, but I like it."
John smiled softly as he cocked his head, taking in how oddly sweet and strangely domestic Sherlock looked in the small, off-white cable knit sweater, "I like it, too," he decided, pulling Sherlock onto the couch next to him and enveloping him in his arms.
Sherlock accepted the touch easily and slipped underneath the coat, finally understanding why John liked it so much whenever he held him. He sighed, letting the security of the coat calm him as he wrapped his arms around John, the silky button-up being a strange contrast to the typically woolen or knit sweaters that John was accustomed to wearing, "Can't you stay another day?" he asked. Sherlock was upset that John was called away for business, even if it was for only a couple of weeks, he hated being left alone with this thoughts, particularly whenever a case hadn't been seen for a couple days and it seemed as though nothing would come up for a couple more.
John sighed, burying his face in Sherlock's sweet-smelling curls, "You know I can't, I was supposed to go yesterday. I had to tell my boss that you were practically coughing up blood so that I could stay an extra day," he chuckled, pressing the detective closer him, memorizing Sherlock's scent and the way he easily fit into his arms like a missing puzzle piece.
The couple rested there on the couch in silent bliss, for what could have been anywhere from a couple seconds to an hour, simply taking each other in. Soon enough, Sherlock's breath steadied and John was confined to the couch, pinned under by the peacefully sleeping detective. It didn't take too long for the light snores and quiet whimpers to lull John under as well, making him miss his flight.