The case had been routine. A corpse in a flat, an apparent accident involving carbon monoxide. In actuality, a poisoning by an angry ex. Sherlock had been more annoyed than anything at being called out for something so trivial, but John had just been hoping it would bring him out of his everlasting sulk. Maybe coax some food into him, and then a nap, afterwards.
The latter was apparently easier than John could have imagined. Almost as soon as they were sat on the Tube, Sherlock's eyes were closed, and the rhythmic motion of the train brought him to sleep.
His head dropped onto John's shoulder at some point – John didn't notice when, exactly, but he didn't mind terribly, either, and so he let the man sleep and continued to watch the people flood in and out of the car at each stop.
The Baker Street stop approached, and John nudged Sherlock's shoulder gently. "Sherlock," he said. "Sherlock."
The man hummed in annoyance and shifted, and then opened his eyes a bit. "Mm. John." My John, some corner of his mind supplied, and so he did was he always did when he woke up to see his John; he kissed him.
John did not react, not at first. He continued to sit ramrod straight as the doors closed at the Baker Street platform, and he blinked twice.
No, Sherlock thought dimly, this was wrong, this wasn't how his John usually –
He blinked. No, this wasn't how his John usually reacted because this wasn't his John, this was just – John. John the friend, John the flatmate, John the boring clinic doctor.
Sherlock sat up. "Sorry, sorry," he stammered out, "I – sorry." He cleared his throat and hoped desperately that some moron would have failed to do their job earlier and that the train would soon crash into something, anything, as he stared across the car at the empty seat opposite him.
John managed to gather his thoughts back into coherent phrases sometime before the train reached the next platform. Watch it, Watson, he told himself. He turned Sherlock's face back to his with one hand and scanned Sherlock's very embarrassed – had he ever seen the man that way before? – features, and then he kissed him, slowly, and gently.
John broke it off after a moment, and Sherlock had transitioned from complete embarrassment to a stunned silence.
"Okay?" John asked with a whisper. Because God help him if he had screwed this up so badly for himself…
But Sherlock nodded, and John let his hand drop down to take Sherlock's. "Though we have missed our stop," John added.
Sherlock shrugged. He still blushed, but he was infinitely more comfortable with the situation than he had been a moment ago. "Minor inconvenience." John grinned and kissed Sherlock's cheek one last time.
