John remembered the earliest he ever got dragged out of bed for a case after getting to sleep at a reasonable hour was when Lestrade called with an urgent voice at 2:30am. Sherlock had just finished an equally taxing case earlier that day and, having gone without rest for his usual ridiculous amount of time, had consumed a vast amount of food before collapsing in bed without even bothering to change. So when the consulting detective had failed to be roused by his phone Lestrade had called John instead.
So here John was, at 2:30 in the morning, staring at Sherlock's sleeping form and debating whether or not to wake the obviously exhausted man. In the end a further call from Lestrade decided for him as the killer struck again for the third time that night.
"Sherlock?" John queried softly as he edged into Sherlock's strangely neat and tidy room, which never failed to confuse John considering the state of the rest of the flat. Perhaps his room, his sanctuary, was a place of calm for him, designed to be empty enough to slow his incredible mind.
The man on the bed stirred gently at John's voice but didn't wake. Hesitantly, John crept in and leaned over to give Sherlock's shoulder a light shake.
"Sherlock, I'm sorry but Lestrade needs you."
"Hmm?" Slowly Sherlock's eyes blinked open and he looked around confusedly until his slightly disorientated gaze alighted on his flatmate in the doorway.
"I did knock, but you were out of it," John hurriedly added as he took in the view, realising that for perhaps the first time since he moved in with Sherlock that he was seeing the younger man when he looked vulnerable, sleepy and subdued, his brain quiet.
"One minute." The mumbled reply was all John needed and he left the room as soundlessly as possible pulling the door smoothly closed behind him. A few minutes later a still sleepy Sherlock stumbled, dressed in fresh clothes, from his room and headed towards the stairs. John hurriedly followed seeing how tired and unsteady the detective looked on his feet, now regretting waking him for fear that he wouldn't be much use, opening the door whilst Sherlock pulled his signature coat on and getting into the taxi he'd called a few minutes before.
Looking somewhat more awake, perhaps the result of the brisk cold night air, the detective followed John into the vehicle and rested his head against the window; but instead of looking out Sherlock's eyes drifted shut, which only furthered John's concern as Sherlock seemingly dozed during the taxi ride. The detective never dozed in taxis; he preferred to observe the world.
"Are you alright Sherlock?" For once John had no right to complain about his sleeping habits; after all he had been the one to wake the detective in the first place.
"I will be if they have coffee." Letting the explanation pass for the time being, although he was still suspicious, John settled back into his seat and allowed Sherlock the peace and quiet he needed. Sherlock, on the other hand, was doing everything in his power not to show John how dizzy and nauseous he was feeling.
By the time the cab pulled to a stop Sherlock had nearly reached his limit and was glad for the fresh air, but it did nothing to abate the dizziness and behind him he heard John once again beginning to express his concerns.
"I'm just tired John, go on ahead I'll be right behind you." Sherlock did exactly that, glad John hadn't questioned the unusual statement as it meant he could follow John's footsteps, ensuring that he wouldn't trip over anything.
"Ah, Sherlock! Sorry about the sudden call." An equally sleepy Lestrade's voice carried over the crime scene as the pair slowly approached, one steady, one not so. Immediately Lestrade's look turned to one of concern, his eyes fixed on Sherlock's bleary and unfocused gaze.
"S'ok." All eyes abruptly turned at Sherlock's single syllable, barely articulate, answer, just in time to see the detective squint and sway. Lestrade reached Sherlock's side at about the same time as John as the younger detective reached up to rub his eyes.
It took a moment, but Lestrade's mind swiftly recalled a key piece of information, his stare widened to one of understanding as Sherlock tried to focus on him, suddenly glad he had taken to carrying spares years ago in case Sherlock ever forgot and had never fallen out of the habit. Lestrade pulled Sherlock away from John, who had started checking Sherlock over for something more serious than was actually the case, ignoring the doctor's complaints. With his hand coming up to steady Sherlock, Lestrade guided the young genius to rest against a wall.
"Why did you come without them?" Lestrade asked his tone sharp but concerned.
"Forgot, didn't want to waste time going back for them, John can see just fine." Sherlock's reply was mumbled, almost sheepish, but spoke volumes about his determination to catch the killer before anyone else got hurt, even at his own expense judging by the pallor of his skin.
"Oh Sherlock," Lestrade sighed in a mixture of fondness and exasperation, "luckily for you I happen to keep an old pair around just in case." A small, relieved smile lit up Sherlock's face, visible only to them.
"Thanks Greg." Lestrade smiled back. Sherlock always remembered his name of course, but rarely used it, preferring to keep the aloof façade he portrayed to the police as a way of separating 'Greg' the friend from 'Lestrade' the colleague. Hearing shuffling behind them caused both men to drop their smiles and pull back from each other.
"I'm sorry, but what's going on?" Both men turned, coming face to face with the confused expression of John Watson, eyes still concernedly raking over Sherlock's lanky form.
"Idiot here forgot his contacts." John frowned, clearly not understanding. Lestrade did as well, eyes jumping between John's confused expression and Sherlock's embarrassed one, he had assumed John knew.
"Contacts? Sherlock was does he mean?" Heaving a sigh, Sherlock decided he might as well get this little secret out in the open, John deserved that at least for putting up with him.
"I'm long sighted John, I wear contact lenses." John's jaw dropped as he stared at his flatmate of several months. He was a trained medical professional, how had he missed this?
"So when Lestrade says he has a spare pair?"
"He means glasses," Sherlock confirmed. John's eyes connected with Sherlock's and now he recognised the bleary look for what it was, not tiredness or a symptom of an unknown illness, but a literal inability to focus on anything. During their brief conversation Lestrade had been rummaging through his pockets until, with a flourish and a small 'aha', he produced a pair of glasses and handed them to the younger detective who reluctantly accepted the offering.
Slipping the lenses on Sherlock, who John would shamelessly admit suited the glasses look surprisingly well, blinked a couple of times to clear the residual dizziness before pushing off the wall that had been supporting him for the past couple of minutes, brushing past shocked onlookers.
"Well, let's get this over with then Lestrade, John."
With Sherlock's sharp eyes now ready to take in every detail, the killer didn't stand a chance.
Three hours later with the case closed and the killer in handcuffs Sherlock, following a brief conversation with Lestrade, headed back towards John and the waiting taxi, his finger gently pushing the frames up his nose from where they had slipped down during the case.
"Are you keeping those?" John asked as the taxi pulled away, nodding towards the glasses.
"No, I'll drop them back to Lestrade tomorrow," Sherlock replied, "sometimes him having them comes in useful."
"Like tonight," John quipped.
"Yes," Sherlock agreed, "like tonight."
John released a thoughtful hum, but said nothing more on the subject for which Sherlock was grateful. It wasn't that he hated glasses; it was more that they gave criminals a potential weakness to use against him during a chase or confrontation.
Although, Sherlock supposed, he shouldn't have been surprised that when he next forgot his contacts in the middle of the night, John hurriedly pulled a spare set of contact lenses out of his pocket with a shrug and a gentle smile.
