AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey you guys! :3 This is something I tried a while ago. I don't usually write stories or fanfics but the idea popped up in my mind so here I am! If you guys want the next chapter, do write to me in the reviews. I would love to hear what you think. :)

Thank you :)

"John?"

I heard somebody calling my name from a far distance. I groaned in reply.

"John, are you okay?"

I tried to open my heavy eyelids, realizing I was in the hospital, sleeping. Sarah was peeking over looking quite concerned.

"Oh I was just-" I said trying to cover up, my voice breaking with each word.

"You need to get some rest, John. You look terrible. I will cover for you today" She said half smiling.

"That would be great Sarah. Thank you. Again" I said sheepishly. I couldn't be any more grateful to her. I had no single occasion to sleep in last 48 hours. Thanks to Sherlock.

I got out of the hospital as soon as I could, longing to climb into my bed. My eyelids were heavy. My feet were protesting as I ran down the street to find a cab. I would usually walk to 221B Baker Street but today, with my every body part crying in pain, I had to get a cab. I called out to cabs passing by, finding none empty. I wondered how Sherlock would produce one with just a flick of hand.

My stomach growled reminding me to feed myself. There won't be any food left, of course. Sherlock must have used it for one of his experiments or thrown it out to make some space in the refrigerator for human thumbs. I frowned. I decided to make some tea once I get home. I kept my legs pushing.

Finally I got a cab. I got home to find Mrs. Hudson was not in her room. Probably chatting with Mr. Chatterji down the street, I thought, smiling lightly remembering Sherlock's science of deduction of her. I climbed up the stairs and peeked into Sherlock's room. He was right there on the couch with hands clasped together, eyes shut, thinking about something so intently that I thought he was manipulating his dreams. Well he's Sherlock. I was almost convinced he could do anything if he decided.

"John" Sherlock said without opening his eyes. I will never understand how he recognizes people with eyes closed. I entered the messy room.

The walls had two more bullet shots.

"Angry today, are we?" I asked looking around. He didn't answer. I have almost stopped expecting replies to my questions.

"Fancy a cup of tea?" I tried again. He loosened his grip of hands, eyes still closed, and pointed his long, slender digits to the couch side table boasting two cups and a fuming kettle. This was different. Sherlock never made tea or for that matter, he hardly drank any. I would have to force him to drink it when he would sit on his study table with his laptop and not bothering winter chills coming in from the open window. Once he catches cold he then would use his own medicines ignoring any medicines I give, calling them 'stuff for ordinary people'. This was not only the case of tea or medicines. He hardly eats anything. I don't understand how he keeps himself alive. Since I moved in here, I felt like a baby sitter. But I'm not complaining. It was a compensation for not being very useful in the cases; instead, getting myself kidnapped and making him rescue me like Superman rescuing a blonde. I laughed at the thought.

"What is so funny?" Sherlock asks with an eyebrow raised. I never realized he had opened his eyes. His gray eyes were penetrating.

"Er, nothing. You made tea? Wait- are you testing me for some bloody experiment? Sherlock, I swear-"

"Don't be a pretty little girl, John" He rolled his eyes sitting up bolt right.

"I am not being a pretty little girl, you are being weird. You never make me tea."

"People change, John." sounding clearly bored.

"People do, you don't"

"Do you even want this tea or should I just throw it all away?"

"I do." I settled myself in the rocker chair opposite to him.

"So what so special today?" I was not ready to let go.

"I thought you would like to have tea after 12 hour shift" He sounded indifferent to his changing behaviour.

"Well, that's very odd and generous of you, then"

"I take it as compliment." He said smugly. We sat there in silence for some time and finished our tea.

"I'm off to bed now." I announced, jumping up from the chair.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

I halted for a second. I spun around to find him eyeing me indifferently.

"Sorry, what?"

"John, you heard me. Don't make me repeat. You know how much I hate it"

"Well that's a bit-you know-"

"Oh John while you work up to find syllables to make your sentence I will be upstairs in the bed" He sprung up straight and headed to the door.

"Wait!" I grasped his elbow and made him face me. "Don't you think it's a bit, er, awkward?"

"Oh, John, we live together, we share our expenses, we work together, I don't see awkwardness that you see"

"But we are grown men. People don't sleep on the same bed, Sherlock."

"People are boring. Besides I would have to run anyway just to make you realize that you are in London and not in Afghanistan when you have one of those nightmares. And since it's been two nights of no sleep, you are likely to get shot in the shoulder again in the dreams. I will be there to give you a dose of paracetamol as you tend to forget every night. So I think it's logical for me to be there beside your bed when you start shouting and waking up Mrs. Hudson who, by the way, thinks you are suffering from a psychological disorder. Now if you will excuse me I would be up in your room." He said in a breath, without a single pause.

He grabbed his laptop and turned without looking back, striding his long legs up the stairs. I frowned. All I had wished for was a good night sleep after two sleepless nights. I just wanted to be alone. But there was no point fighting. Pinching my nose bridge to find some patience, I followed him.

I entered my room with puckered brows hoping he'd be able to see I was not at all thrilled with the idea of him being in my bed. Sherlock had settled himself in the bed with laptop and sheets pulled up to knees. He was sitting on the side where I slept every night.

"Sherlock, that's my side you are sitting on"

"Hm"

"Sherlock, go to the other side" I crossed the room and tugging his elbow I tried to make him move.

He didn't even move or acknowledge what I was saying.

"Fine. Be a git" I stomped my feet and climbed up the bed from the other side. I pulled up the sheet with as much force as I could muster with whatever energy I had. I really wished the sheets would hurt him somehow. But he didn't notice my struggle or maybe he just ignored me like he always did.

Time passed and I waited for sleep to take over my conscious.