It had not been the best of days for either of them… John's day had begun badly: he had awoken late, to find that Sherlock had already gone without waking him; there had been no milk so John couldn't even leave a cup of tea before heading out to work. Caffeine deprived and annoyed that Sherlock had allowed him to sleep in; John had rushed off to work. He was locum in a position providing cover in a surgery for one of the GPs who had been forced to take maternity leave early; John was just covering for a few weeks until their intended cover could start. He had only been at the surgery two days, and being late wasn't the best advert for himself – he didn't want to be known for tardiness. He might just have made it in time, if there hadn't been a hold up on the underground… That had meant that John hadn't arrived at the surgery until twenty to ten; which in turn meant that he had to spent the first two minutes of the appointments apologising to the patients for having to wait. One older gentleman complained for so long that John had had to remind him as politely as he could that he had other patients to see as well. There were also the surprised patients who hadn't clocked that they weren't being seen by their original doctor, which – again – shaved a couple of minutes from their appointment as John explained that she had gone on emergency leave. By one pm, John had seen twenty patients, most of whom had nothing more interesting than a cold, and he was feeling irritable. He had been incredibly thankful when he saw his last patient before lunchtime, until he had slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, and realised that in his rush to get to work he had left his wallet at the flat. Sighing heavily, and resigning himself to the fact that today was clearly going to be an awful day, he dug in the bottom of his work case to find any loose change. £5.20 had accumulated throughout the years in the different pockets of the case; just enough to buy him a sandwich and a cup of tea. John's afternoon was marginally better, until his very last appointment at twenty past five… It was a young mum who had brought her six month old daughter in; the infant's temperature was minimally raised, and she was grizzly – mum said this was the third day she had been like this, and nothing she had done had made her any better. After a quick examination of the baby, John reassured the mum that her daughter just had a cold and would get better in a few days… but that didn't satisfy the mum – she wanted a blood and urine test on her daughter to check for infection. When John tried to explain that those tests really weren't necessary, she demanded to see another doctor, a "competent" doctor as she put it. Only barely managing to keep his temper under check, John had gone for one of the other GPs – angered that his professional judgement was being questioned. The young mum complained for what seemed like an hour – mostly accusing John of being incompetent and rude, and John could only stand and listen… When the flow of diatribe had finished, John was pleased when his colleague backed him up completely – but the woman left ranting and raving about finding a new doctor… It wasn't the best ending to a horrible day – John was looking forwards to going home and going straight back to bed… the sooner this day was over the better!

Sherlock had also not had the best of days: he had lost a lead which he had been sure might wrap up a case for him; the experiment he had begun, to take his mind of the failure of the morning, didn't seem to be turning out at all as he had expected it would – then it exploded very suddenly, shattering several test tubes and coating the table top in acidic chemicals which Sherlock had to scrub off to prevent any damage. He was looking forwards to John arriving back from work… John always managed to cheer Sherlock up, it was part of the reason their relationship worked so well together.

John slammed the front door to the flat and stomped up the stairs, not even stopping to say hello to Sherlock, going straight up to the bedroom that he and Sherlock shared to change out of his suit. Sherlock heard John arrive home, but was surprised when he bypassed the sitting room and went up the stairs. After twenty minutes had passed and John had still not reappeared, Sherlock began to wonder… Had he done something to annoy John? He couldn't think of anything – but then he often did come across as rather insensitive… Maybe John wasn't feeling well? No – surely he would have said something if he was unwell… He wasn't sure, and decided that the best thing to do would be to check on John.

John was standing in the middle of their bedroom – arms crossed and a frown on his face, tapping his foot quickly on the floor.

"John?" Sherlock asked quietly, as John had not looked up at him as he entered the room. "Is everything okay?" John's head jerked up suddenly as Sherlock spoke.

"No." He stopped abruptly. "I've had a shit day."

"You too?" Sherlock commented; John didn't often let things get to him, he usually coped very well with bad days. Sherlock took a few steps forwards and attempted to pull John into a hug, but John wrenched himself out of Sherlock's grip quite fiercely.

"Don't Sherlock." He said harshly. "I'm not in the mood." Sherlock stood very awkwardly – he was suddenly very conscious of himself, he didn't like being snubbed, especially so curtly.

"I was just trying to comfort you…" He murmured in confusion.

"Well, don't." John repeated, turning his back on Sherlock. For a few seconds Sherlock stood unsure of what to do; then he decided to leave John on his own. But as he got to the door, a question which had begun to circle in his head fell from his lips.

"Have I done something wrong?" It was meant to be a simple question, but it sounded like an accusation.

"No! This has nothing to do with you!" John spun round, he seemed livid – his speech rougher and his face looked angrier. "Why do you have to make everything about yourself?!"

"I wasn't!" Sherlock justified honestly. "I just wanted to know whether I had done something to annoy you…"

"Not everything in the world revolves around you Sherlock! You are not the centre of the universe!" John shouted, Sherlock could see that he was shaking, but this response only elicited annoyance in Sherlock.

"I wasn't suggesting that it did!" He responded sharply.

"You're not the only one in this relationship!" John was continuing, ranting on as if he couldn't stop the words pouring out of his mouth. "You don't seem able to grasp the concept that things can happen completely separate to your existence! But everything must compare or coincide with what you want! Well guess what? It doesn't! And I can't be bothered with it – I'd be glad if you just pissed off!" But Sherlock stood stock still, his mind reeling from this outburst from John.

"No!" He said blankly.

"No? What do you mean no?" John spat.

"No! I'm not pissing off!" Sherlock responded. "I am not as self centred as you seem to think I am! I came up here to check if you were okay, not to be shouted and accused at!"

"Well bully for you!" John said sarcastically.

"What the hell is the matter with you tonight?!" Sherlock asked, "Why are you being so bloody moody?"

"Cause I've had a shit day Sherlock! Alright?!" John yelled. "You didn't wake me up this morning, I was late and I had forgotten my wallet! My patients were dicks and I can't be bothered right now!"

"I didn't think you wanted me to wake you up this morning…" Sherlock commented.

"You never think! You knew I had work though!"

"I didn't mean to-"

"And you used all the fucking milk, so I couldn't even get a cup of tea!"

"I didn't use the milk!" Sherlock argued.

"Don't deny it! You always use the milk, and you use my bread and jam so I never have enough for breakfast!"

"You move my experiments so that they're not in the temperature and light intensity that they need to be!" Sherlock had finally lost his own temper, and instead of trying to appease John he just yelled back.

"So I move some test tubes, so what?"

"It can have an effect on the results!" Sherlock felt exasperated.

"Well if you didn't leave them lying in inconvenient places then I wouldn't have to move them!" John was gesticulating wildly with his hands.

"Like your clothes you mean? Lying all over the place, on the table in the sitting room!"

"If we had an ironing board I wouldn't put them there!"

"Or the mugs that accumulate on the table next to your chair?"

"I use them!" John's voice was growing in pitch and volume. "At least I don't need reminding to take my socks off in bed!"

"At least I don't snore!" Sherlock retorted; their argument was becoming more and more childish.

"Well your morning breath smells like something's died in your mouth!" John snapped.

"No it doesn't…" Sherlock said, but he had faltered.

"It does, believe me!" John confirmed; Sherlock stayed silent for a few seconds – the absurdity of this argument had just struck him, they were arguing over nothing at all…

"Why are we arguing?" He asked, his voice dropping to its normal volume. John stared at Sherlock, still visibly fuming for a moment – then the impact of Sherlock's question hit him.

"I'm not sure…" He said honestly. "I've just had a shit day and I want to curl up in bed and go to sleep…" John sighed; sensing that the animosity was draining from the room.

"Can I join you?" Sherlock inquired slowly.

"I'm not in the mood for –" John started.

"No, neither am I…" Sherlock cut over him. "What I do feel like, is curling up in bed with my partner and listening to what's made his day so bad…" John hesitated apparently considering what Sherlock had said.

"I'd like that…" He murmured slowly, he looked exhausted.

"Tell you what…" Sherlock began. "You get ready for bed, and I'll make us both a cup of tea, yeah?"

"Thank you."

Ten minutes later, John and Sherlock were cuddled together in bed; Sherlock had put his arm around John's shoulders and was gently stroking the hairs on the nape of John's neck while he unloaded about how awful his day had been. Sherlock enjoyed this – just being with John; listening to him and being close in proximity with him. It was very 'coupley', and that was something that Sherlock had never expected himself to be – but with John he was, with John he was safe.

Sherlock became aware that he was waking up, John's arm was stretched across his bare chest as if he had been holding onto Sherlock for dear life. Sherlock glanced over at the clock on the bedside table, it was twenty to seven; they would both need to get up shortly. Trying to disturb John as little as he possibly could, he sidled out of bed and went to the toilet. As he stood, slightly groggily, relieving his bladder, he was reminded of what John had said in their argument of yesterday about his morning breath. Rubbing his hand across his face, he picked up his toothbrush, deciding on the spot that he would make that change.

His mouth felt cold and minty as he climbed back into bed with John. The movement of him must have aroused John from sleep as he shuffled closer to Sherlock, sighing softly.

"What time is it?" He mumbled sleepily.

"It's nearly time for us to get up." Sherlock replied gently.

"Really?" John opened his eyes slightly to look up at Sherlock.

"Yeah."

"Uh –" John sighed heavily again. "Oh well, at least I've had you to wake up to this morning." He leant over to kiss Sherlock. "Mmm! Minty!" John grinned as he pulled away from Sherlock. "Did you get up early just to brush your teeth?" John laughed.

"No… not really." Sherlock answered. "I got up cause I needed to pee, then I brushed my teeth!"

"Alright," John pecked Sherlock on the lips again.

"No more morning breath then?" Sherlock asked.

"Definitely not!" John confirmed.

"Good!"

A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading this, I'd love to know what you thought of it!