-Leave a "Love Me" in my ask and I'll write a fluffy drabble with our characters.-

Was only supposed to be a very short drabble for my RP partner but it kinda snowballed. Should be updating tomorrow :)

That day had been miserable and horrible for the both of them.

John had been working hard at the surgery that week. A flu epidemic had broken out, there wasn't a spare minute a day and he had been working 9-5 everyday since Monday. Today was Friday and he was supposed to have the day off, until Sarah called in sick. And John, being the helpful person he was, it was in his nature to offer his help so he had ended up taking on extra hours and had been at the practice since 9am. It was finally time to leave, all the patience had been seen to and the staff were finishing up later than expected. He dragged himself to his feet and managed to catch the 6:30pm bus just in time.

Sherlock, on the other hand, had been stuck with his brother, Mycroft, all day. He owed him a few favours and Mycroft had chosen the past few days and today to bank on them. He'd spent the days helping screen the majority of Mycroft's agents and employees. Spotting anything out of the ordinary, trying to find the double agent who had been leaking information. He had sat and talked to over 90 mindless idiots before he finally found the two faced agent. He was tired, unhappy, and moody. A day spent with his brother always proved to be a horrible day, and using the term horrible, well, that was an understatement.

John had almost dozed off on the bus and was lucky he didn't miss his stop. To top of a dreadful week, the heavens had decided to let lose. Unfortunately, John had no umbrella and no hood. But by this point, he didn't care. He didn't even bother to rush home to get out the rain. He was just too damn tired. He trudged along, shoulders hunched and face down, letting the rain soak through and chill him almost to the bone. He was glad he'd remembered to bring his jumper with him to wear after work today. It was still cold in London, winter was only just turning to spring rather than spring to summer and the chill in the air stung his cheeks and nose, they turned a dim pink colour curtsey of the howling wind, cold rain and sharp chill in the air.

Sherlock turned down Mycroft's offer to have him driven home. He'd had enough of him. To tell you the truth, he'd had enough of him within the first five minutes, but he knew if he didn't comply Mycroft would either force him to, or not help him out in his next time of need. So, he put up with him and his ways for as long as was necessary. He sauntered home, and the fact it was pouring down barely registered in his mind. He was too numb. Too tired to care. His hair plastered itself to his forehead and neck and sometimes the wind would blow a little too strongly in one direction causing his hair to whip into his eyes and temporarily blind him.

Only a few streets left to go and they'd be home.

When John saw the street sign, "Baker Street" his heart lifted a little and a small amount of warmth spread through him which seemed to emanate from his chest. He still couldn't quite muster up the energy or happiness to break into a smile though, at least not just yet anyway.

Sherlock finally let out a sigh of relief, Baker Street. He was finally back where he belonged. Only a few more minutes now and he'd be in the warmth with some good company.

As he reached 221 he raised his head and couldn't help but break into a smile at what lay before him. A soaked through, bedraggled Sherlock, with the glummest look on his face ever. It was very amusing. The usually well collected Sherlock, now looked like a little lost cat left out in the rain. And chuckled, that deep throaty one that Sherlock loved.

When Sherlock heard that noise, his head instinctively shot up whipping his hair back and giving it a slicked back look, when he saw John stood there laughing a grin spread across his face.

They both traipsed up the stairs together leaving a trail of wet footprints that Mrs Hudson would definitely be having words with them about and shed their coats on the way. Sherlocks shirt stuck to him, the rain had been persistent and had managed to break through his thick coat, but he hadn't the energy to do anything about it. Instead, he grabbed a towel, ruffled it over his hair in a half hearted attempt to dry it, then grabbed a blanket and draped it round his shoulders and clung tightly to it to keep any air from chilling him further.

Once John was inside, he took off his damp jumper which had luckily stopped the rain going all the way through to his shirt, except for the small damp patches over his shoulders. He gabbed the kettle and made about making tea for them both.

Neither of them had said a word to the other yet and they went about their business in a companiable silence.

Sherlock curled up in a ball on the sofa with the blanket wrapped around him, covering every inch of him, he was shivering slightly, but thought he'd warm up soon enough, so made himself comfortable.

Walking over to Sherlock with the tea, John spotted a large thick envelope on the table addressed to Sherlock, he cocked an eyebrow and gave Sherlock a questioning look wondering if he had seen it or not. Sherlocks confused expression was enough. So John set the two cups of tea down on the coffee table in front of Sherlock, grabbed the envelope, and took it over.

After he passed it to Sherlock, he then made himself comfy on the sofa and waited for Sherlock to open it.