And the world stopped turning.
.
It wasn't expected, John thought with a smile as he looked at his flatmate. They were in bed, which they had shared for the first time in their lives so many years ago, and John sincerely hoped it wouldn't stop to amaze him for many more years to come.
Sherlock's life was amazing, their love mind-blowing but perhaps John liked this even more. The quietness of the flat, the simple rise and fall of Sherlock's bare back as he breathed. The way his tousled, messy curls were draped over the white pillow, how the sheet was slung low over his body, barely covering the swell of his arse.
John grinned and propped himself up a bit more, tilting his head as he drew a gentle line from shoulder to dip of his back and back up to his other shoulder. Smooth, pale skin, small goosebumps, soft little puffs of air that signaled that the man was waking up.
Sherlock groaned sleepily and opened one eye. "You're staring," he mumbled, "Don't normal people find that creepy and annoying?"
John stopped his hand, pressed it just between his shoulder blades. "Sorry… Do you think it creepy and annoying?"
Sherlock huffed and rolled on his side, facing John. "I'm not normal, am I?"
John's smile returned, and he shook his head. "No, you're not, You are quite… extra-ordinary."
Sherlock blinked sleepily and pressed closer against John. "As are you," he whispered, closing his eyes, very ready to sleep on. "You can look all you want. You… see."
John's eyebrow shot up. "See, not… observe? Since when's that a good thing?"
Sherlock sighed and squirmed a bit deeper under the warm blankets. "Observing means distance, rationality. You are… not. You see. You see me." He yawned and sank asleep again.
John smiled and continued stroking Sherlock's sides, arms, face. Under his hand, Sherlock's face twitched into a satisfied smile, and for John, as always when he saw a glimpse of the man underneath, the world stopped turning, just for a second.