Snoring peacefully within his lavender bed sheets Sherlock's dark curls caressed his head. Meanwhile, John was pressing his hand lightly on the slightly opened door, peaking ever so quietly in.
Seeing Sherlock so quiet and motionless almost frightened John, as he was use to Sherlock's continuously changing expression, fluttering hands, and gliding walk. Never like this. Never asleep, never so still. In fact he'd never seen him sleep at all really. Watson was often tempted to believe Sherlock never slept.
Cautiously opening the door all the way, John chuckled to himself at the thought of this yet another inhuman ability his flat mate had.
Stifling his laugh with his hand, he had to remind himself he wasn't alone and if he were to wake the sociopath of London … well quite frankly no sane mane would dare try to even imagine the results of that!
Squinting his eyes into the dark he softly picked up his bare foot and placed it on the wooden floor boards while counting each predetermined step over to the detective's bed.
CREEeaaAKK! Watson cringed as the floor gave in to his weight.
In seemingly a response, Sherlock swung his arm over his head hitting it on the wall and making a sleepy yelp. John quickly attempted to retreat running to the open door on tiptoes. Now at the safety of the entrance he paused, and waited till he could hear the subtle snoring and looked back and saw Sherlock was still in a deep slumber.
"I have to do this. I've wanted to do this for oh so long." Watson mumbled, "I'm going to touch it."
Gazing fondly at sherlocks pale sharply figured face he realized... He needed to do this.
Move! Now Watson! Sherlock never sleeps so this is your only chance! John mentally urged himself to move rapidly forward. Hopping from foot to foot, he wobbled across the moonlit room. Finally with an abrupt halt he finally reached his target.
Blushing deep rouge, Watson bit his lip and reached down with his shaking hand. He then proceeded to move one of Sherlock's dark spiraling locks to reveal his friends sharply shaped cheekbones.
This was what it was all for. This is what he had wanted to do since he had first laid eyes on this one of a kind, fascinating superman. Placing his hands gingerly on Sherlock's face he leaned over with his other hand and...
Smushed his chubby hedgehog hands all over Sherlock's fancifully highly arched cheekbones and chuckled in delight. Rubbing the piercing boned mountains he had so oftenly fantasized. Watson continued till the point his mind started going fuzzy with excitement. This man's cheekbones were as sharp yet smooth as he thought.
"Cheekbones!" Watson shrilly giggled pushing his fingers yet again into his flatmates face.
Sherlock jumping up in surprise, threw the covers off and whipped around to face the culprit, who had scurried across the room giggling in delight at finally touching those precious pale pointy facial qualities.
Slamming the door and rushing into the hallway, Watson fled the crime scene leaving Sherlock staring at the door with open eyes and mouth gapping.
Holmes then blushed, lifting one hand to rub his sore cheek and cockily grinned at his accomplishment of fooling John yet again stating,
"Watson should know better... I never fall asleep."