John's arm had fallen asleep half an hour ago, but he wasn't complaining. This was the first time the world's only consulting detective had gotten any sleep in nearly 72 hours. Besides, the doctor would never admit it, but he was kind of…comfortable.
It had been a particularly difficult case, and Sherlock refused to sleep the entire time. "Sleep only slows me down, John," Sherlock told him. John tried to get him to eat, but was only met with the same response.
The murders had been brutal, each victim being torn apart to the point where they were barely identifiable. This slowed the process of solving the case down by itself, much to Sherlock's dismay. Four people had been killed before they were able to figure out who the murderer was.
After they figured it out, John and Sherlock tracked and chased the killer. Luckily, John had the common sense to call for backup from Scotland Yard, because not too long after they had begun to run, Sherlock dropped to the ground, unconscious.
John froze. Sherlock, the world's only consulting detective, the genius, perhaps one of the greatest men on earth, had never looked so weak. It was then that John noticed how thin he had gotten - unhealthily thin. His doctor instincts kicked in and he bent down, checking for a pulse.
It was faint, but it was there.
"Come on, Sherlock," he whispered. "Wake up."
It took a few minutes, but John could see Sherlock's eyes flutter. The doctor breathed a sigh of relief. Sherlock slowly sat up. "Come on, up we go," John said, slinging Sherlock's arm over his shoulder and helping him stand. "Let's go have dinner."
"But, the case…" Sherlock said, glancing over his shoulder to the empty alley.
"Lestrade's got the killer," John replied, and he could feel Sherlock relax just a bit as he helped him along.
The two went to Angelo's restaurant. Angelo once again placed a candle on the table as the two ordered. John considered trying to insist that they weren't a couple, but decided against it.
Not that he would ever mention it to anyone, but he wasn't so sure he didn't want them to be, anyways.
John managed to make Sherlock eat his dinner, a task Lestrade had once called "an impossible feat", and the two caught a cab back to Baker Street. "It's time for you to get some sleep, Sherlock," John said as they left the cab.
"Don't be ridiculous, John. Sleep is for the weak," Sherlock argued, despite the fact that he was leaning on John a considerable amount.
"Doctor's orders," John teased him.
Eventually, after a long debate, John caved. Sherlock sat down at the couch while John made tea. As he swung open the fridge for milk, John bit back a few curses. "Sherlock?"
The man hummed in response.
"What did we talk about? No more fingers in the fridge!"
"Ah, but those are toes, John," Sherlock said with a smile.
John sighed, grabbing the milk and shutting the fridge. "No toes, either."
"Fine."
John finished the tea and they sat on the couch together, watching crap telly. Sherlock chimed in occasionally about the inaccuracy of the shows and, "God, John, how can you bear to watch this?"
John had his arm along the back of the couch, and eventually he felt a weight settle on his arm and his side. Looking over, he saw Sherlock curled up against him, head leaning on John's shoulder and eyes shut. John grinned.
The program droned on in the background, but he barely registered any of it. Sherlock looked so peaceful when he slept. "I think I'm in love with you," John whispered, only because Sherlock was asleep. Though it might kill him to never to be able to say those words, he wasn't sure he could handle the other man's response. For Sherlock to love someone...that might actually be an impossible feat. John leaned his head against Sherlock's and closed his eyes. He was almost asleep when he heard Sherlock speak.
"I love you too, John."
A/N: I hope you enjoyed! I'm a hardcore Johnlock shipper and I was kind of bored, so I thought, why not?