AN: Hi! This is my first fanfiction so this is a little bit of an experiment. For now this is a one-shot but I'd be willing to add on to it though I'm not planning to. If you see any mistakes please tell me. I don't mind negative comments if you have any. Any constructive criticisms will be welcomed. I hope you like it!
It had been a simple but tediously long case. They had gotten up at four in the morning and worked on the case until ten pm. London, at night, in December was bitingly cold and the slightly warmer heat of the police station, while pleasant, was making John that much more tired. Sherlock, of course, was not even drowsy nor did he seem to mind the cold. John shivered, the cold from outside seemed to have seeped into his bones. All he wanted was to get home and take a hot shower before sleeping for a week. Unfortunately, he knew that they would be stuck at the station until the paperwork was filled out. Normally, Sherlock would have never bothered with such frivolities but this case had a rather twisted story to it that Sherlock had said he wanted the police to document correctly. Or something like that, honestly John had stopped paying attention to the explanation halfway through it, he was way too tired to care. All he knew was that he was here, waiting for Sherlock outside Inspector Lestrade's office, when he could be home, in bed. He had sleepily given his statement half an hour ago and the siren call of sleep was pulling him in. He absently acknowledged the fact that Sherlock had exited Lestrade's office and sat down next to him on the bench. He couldn't seem to focus any longer as he nodded off. There was a familiar smell and a soft fabric beneath his cheek and the world went black.
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Sherlock's POV:
This was Mycroft's fault. If not for him sticking his fat nose in this case Sherlock could have been done with this dull case hours ago. Apparently some important political figures had been a little too close to this case and their precious reputations were at risk. Sherlock would not have cared had Mycroft not threatened to force him to go to Mummy's horrid Christmas party. So now he had to deal with these incompetent idiots and would probably continue having to for the next hour at least.
"You might as well wait outside for the time being; this will take awhile," Lestrade's voice broke Sherlock's inner tirade.
Sherlock nodded and slipped out of the DI's office. He sat down next to a nearly asleep John and took out his phone. The consulting detective was slightly surprised when he felt John's head fall, limp, onto his shoulder but the weight was not unpleasant so he did not move. Sherlock frowned as he felt John shivering. He carefully tugged off his trademark coat, trying not to wake John. After managing to get the coat off without waking the sleeping man, he draped it over John's shoulders, moving the doctor's head momentarily off his shoulder. John unconsciously pulled the coat closer around him and nuzzled his face into Sherlock's shoulder. The smallest hint of a smile flickered across Sherlock's face, gone as soon as it arrived.
