The room was silent and the bed held the boys in a warm embrace. Jim shifted his head to rest more comfortably on his partner's chest. His soul felt stilled by the gentle rise and fall of Sherlock's torso.
Neither of them were asleep but they couldn't find the energy to get up despite having slept all through the night. They just laid still, breathing slowly.
Sherlock's hand lazily carded though Jim's hair, enjoying how it wasn't slicked back for once. They were absorbed in each other; just enjoying the rare moment of peace they got to share. With Sherlock always darting off to solve crimes and Jim... Well, committing the crimes they never seemed to have much time to just be together.
Last night had been set aside as a date night with no distractions. It was one of those times that really strengthens their relationship. Jim was thinking over the movie and take away they'd had the night before when sudden Sherlock shoved him forcefully. The smaller man fell straight of the side of the bed and landed with a thump on the cold wooden floor boards.
He was trying to clamber off the floor, grumbling and planning his revenge, when Sherlock hushed him. The detective gestured for him to get back on the floor, hidden behind the bed. Although he was confused, Jim obeyed his partner, trusting him fully.
Mere seconds later the door to the bedroom burst open. Even though he was waiting for a sound, the sudden opening of the door made the consulting criminal jump. He tried to steady his breathing to ensure he didn't draw attention to himself.
"Sherlock?!" Lestrade's voice burst out.
"What?" The detective had the blanket pulled up to his chin to hide his naked body. "What do you want, George?"
Greg, Jim silently corrected, rolling his eyes.
"You're normally up by now..." The policeman sounded awkward. He was clearly panicking that Sherlock was kidnapped or something but regretted bursting into the bedroom now seeing that the man was perfectly fine. "Anyway, we have another murder."
Moriarty didn't have to be beside his boyfriend to know that his eyes were lighting up with curiosity. There was no way the detective would turn this one down as it was exactly what he spent everyday waiting for.
"Where?" Holmes asked, briskly.
"Waterloo Tube Station. Can you come?" Desperation coloured the older man's tone.
"Give me half and hour and I'll be there." The detective promised.
"Thanks, Sherlock." The policeman answered before rushing off.
Sherlock and Jim listened from their respective places as Greg stormed down the stairs and out the door. Neither moved for a few seconds to ensure he wasn't about to march straight back up again. They'd learnt to be overly cautious.
"Jim," Sherlock reached down and helped him partner get back onto his bed. The criminal didn't exactly look thrilled that he'd just been booted onto the floor by his boyfriend, "I'm sorry."
He kissed him and Jim quickly joined in. His thumb rubbed his cheek comfortingly. Sherlock wanted to apologise and make it up to him but he had to get dressed and rush off to the crime scene. He'd promised Lestrade 30 minutes. He broke the kiss and peered into the smaller man's dark eyes.
Jim spoke first, "What would they do without you?"
"They'd let you run around doing whatever you want." Sherlock smirked, knowing that Scotland Yard could never get anywhere close to solving the murders committed by Moriarty. He himself was the only person that got even close enough to stop Jim.
The criminal shrugged, "Perhaps I should keep you to myself then."
Sherlock gave his partner one more peck before rolling out of bed to get dressed. Jim watched him go, not needing to be anywhere for another hour or so. He could relax for a while longer.
Eventually, after Sherlock had been gone for a significant amount of time, Jim pulled himself out of his partner's large bed and began to dress himself lazily. He knew he probably looked a mess but he was heading home for his fresh suit anyway.
Slinging his favourite grey jacket over his shoulder, the criminal pulled the door shut on 221B and began the climb down the stairs. He had made it to the front door and was twisting the lock across when a voice stopped him. Mrs Hudson. He froze.
"Jim, dear. You weren't rushing off without saying goodbye, I hope." Her smile brightened when her tenant's boyfriend turned to her with a friendly grin, "Would you come in for a cup of tea?"
"I'd kill for one of your cuppas, Mrs Hudson, love." He smiled, took her arm and accompanied her back into the small flat.
Ever since Mrs Hudson walked in on him and Sherlock on a date night, she has insisted on tea and cakes with him every time they bump into each other. This was becoming increasingly often now that his relationship with Sherlock was becoming more serious. She was a kind old lady and Jim genuinely liked her. Perhaps she'd feel differently if she knew about his job but... For now he decided to keep up the pretence that he worked in IT for Barts.