Disclaimer: I don't own Watson, Holmes, or Mary. I do own a very nice solid gold Ferrari, however.
A/N: This is not slash. Please try to believe me, I beg of you, good people. This is just Holmes being his awkward, no-personal-bubble self and Watson freaking out about it.
Watson felt a little lonely in his half-empty bed. Mary was away, visiting her sister for the next few days. It was raining outside, and the room was cold. The doctor snuggled deeper under the covers.
He was three-quarters of the way sleep when dimly he heard the window being opened. Dismissing it as half-conscious hallucinations, Watson ignored it.
However, a moment later, someone was climbing gingerly into Mary's portion of the bed.
"Mary?" he mumbled drowsily, rolling over. Immediately, Watson was awake. "Holmes?!"
"Good morning, doctor." Holmes, hair plastered wetly to his forehead, was yanking the covers away from Watson and heaping them over himself.
"What are you doing?! Get out of my bed!" Watson snarled. "And quit stealing my blanket!"
"Watson, I need to hide!" Holmes explained, burrowing beneath the quilts.
"Then hide in the bloody closet!"
"No! I need to hide in plain sight!"
"Ugh, Holmes, you're getting everything soaking wet," Watson complained.
Holmes piled the covers around his head. "Lay down, Watson, and hold me."
"I'm not going to—"
"Watson!"
"Fine," he growled, dropping down on his back. Turning on his side, Watson grudgingly slapped his hand onto Holmes's shoulder.
"For goodness sake, doctor, you can do better than that."
"But I'm not going to," Watson hissed. He wrinkled his nose. "You smell like a wet dog."
"Well—"
Without warning, the bedroom door blew open—never mind that it was locked—and a big, burly man stomped in, followed closely by a tinier one. The latter quickly spoke as Watson sat bolt upright, hair incredibly mussed, which only added to his flustered appearance.
"Pardon me, good sir," said the little man. "I hope I haven't awoken your wife."
Watson glanced over, trying to hide his contempt. "No. You most certainly did not wake my wife."
"I did knock," he continued, "but evidently you didn't hear. It is imperative I speak with you. My companion and I are from Scotland Yard and are pursuing a criminal."
"They're not Scotland Yard," Holmes breathed to Watson. Watson twitched.
"We have reason to believe that he's hiding in this room," continued the man.
"That is utterly absurd," Watson retorted.
"With all due respect, sir…you were asleep."
"Just what did this criminal do?" Watson inquired.
"Nothing," Holmes exhaled. The doctor pinched his arm. "Watson!" he gasped.
"He killed a man," said the big one, speaking for the first time.
"And robbed the house," added the companion.
"No, that's what they did," Holmes murmured under his breath.
Watson smacked his hand onto Holmes's face. Sherlock winced and made a wide-eyed, disturbed expression as Watson petted his wet hair.
"Well, I only want to keep my wife safe," Watson said gallantly. "You are free to search the room."
The shorter man nodded once to Watson and the pair split off in two directions, beginning a sweep of the room. They dug through the closet and peered under the bed, glanced behind the door and even out the windows.
"What did you do?" Watson muttered.
"Tried to arrest them," Holmes replied.
Dismayed, the two men finished searching and stood, looking around.
"No luck?" Watson asked.
"I'm afraid not," the man sighed. "The door was locked from the inside, no?"
Watson looked over at his door, hanging off its hinges. "Yes…it was. Perhaps you have the wrong house."
It was at that moment that Holmes sneezed a very manly sneeze.
The two men's eyes fell on Watson's "wife" and they slowly started for the bed.
"John, darling?"
Both the criminals and Watson were completely surprised to hear such a high-pitched, blatantly feminine voice coming from the lump under the covers.
"Uhh…go back to sleep, dear," Watson said. "It's just…a…bad dream?"
"Okay, love." Holmes pulled the covers higher over himself, shifting around a little.
Watson slowly looked over at the two men. "Well, I…suppose you should leave."
"Thank you for your time," the shorter man said, and the two filed out.
The doctor listened closely until he heard the front door close downstairs, then fell back against the headboard, sighing. Holmes sat up, one half of his hair flying up in all directions from Watson's ruffling.
"The real Scotland Yard should be out there waiting for them," Holmes said. Watson grunted. Sherlock cleared his throat, scratching his neck. "So…what's for breakfast?"
Watson looked over. "Holmes?"
"Yes, Watson?"
"Get out of my bed."
Choking on brotherly bromance yet? If not I suggest you go back and read this whole thing again. And hey, review twice for good measure! *wink wink nudge nudge giggle giggle wiggle wiggle*