The Answer is Near
Complicated
Looking down at the mass of curls sprawling on the white satin pillow like a waterfall of soft silk I sigh deeply into the night. Our life has become so complex and intertwined with danger I have almost forgotten what normal was. It all seemed so distant, and it's all your fault Sherlock Holmes. All yours, and I can't blame you for even a second, my life before you was so dull and mundane. Looking down again I watch your chest rise and fall, how you sleep so peacefully I will never know.
A man of mystery and intrigue, a man who lives on the seat of his pants always waiting for something, a man on the edge of sanity, you're all this and more. Sometimes I think you're insane, I worry one day you will commit a crime just to feel interested, to feel that rush you crave. And I know in my heart I will stay with you. I know that I would help you drag the body into the Thames, if only to protect you. I know that I would hate myself; I never wanted to have to put my beliefs and love on different ends of the spectrum. But I have always been a man of my heart.
"Hm?"
Looking back into those pools of clean water that are Sherlock's eyes I smile softly curling back into the warm sheet, sliding into the heat that is this man. "Sorry. I'll sleep now." Smiling into the thin pale neck I give quick kiss and hold this gangly man close. Sherlock Holmes is a man of confusion; he makes my life beyond complicated. If not gallivanting about the country side, then sleeping like the soundest way. God how I love this man, and god how complex he has made my life.
"John, shut off your brain it's too loud."
"Sorry sorry, night Sherlock."