I live for fluff and sleepy Sherlock. That is all.

Enjoy!~

John was seated in the waiting room of the dentist's office, anxiously checking the time again and again on his phone. He knew that getting wisdom teeth removed was no big deal, but he was still worried about his boyfriend.

Sherlock, as much as he denied it, had been afraid.

"But I don't care!" Sherlock pouted.

"Sherlock, dear," Mrs. Holmes frowned, "you're obviously in pain and it will only worsen. Not removing them could make your other teeth crooked."

"Don't care," Sherlock grumbled.

John was about to say something but Mycroft beat him to it, "Sherlock, John will not kiss you until you agree to get your wisdom teeth removed." He turned to John. "Isn't that right, John?"

John smirked, "That's right, Sherlock."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "You're lying, both of you!"

"Do you really want to risk it?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "John, are you not serious?"

"Oh, I am," he nodded. "Sherlock, no kisses until you agree."

Mr. Holmes chuckled quietly to himself.

Sherlock pouted, mustering up his best glare, then sighed. "Fine. I'll go to the bloody dentist."

Mrs. Holmes smiled, "Finally! Oh John, what would we do without you?"

"Heaven knows," he replied, smiling at the glare his boyfriend was shooting him.

"It's okay if you're nervous," John told him later.

Sherlock scoffed. "It's a minor surgery; there is no reason for me to be nervous."

John kissed his hand. "Whatever you say, Sherlock."

So now John was tapping his fingers against his knee impatiently in the waiting room, seated next to Mycroft. He agreed to be there when Sherlock got out of surgery and keep him company while he recovered. If John were being totally honest with himself, then he would admit that he was looking forward to seeing a drugged-out Sherlock.

"You realize Sherlock will be talking out of his head?" Mycroft asked, as if he read John's thoughts.

"Mmm, yes. That's what anesthetics will do to a person." He stopped tapping his fingers. "You better not be planning to use this experience as blackmail…"

For the first time since John had met him, Mycroft laughed. "Do you truly think I would do that?"

"Yes," he answered honestly.

Mycroft was highly amused. "No, John. I won't do that because there will be no need."

"And why not?"

"Because you're going to be there to see it." When John didn't catch on, Mycroft resisted the urge to roll his eyes and continued, "He only cares if you see him in his inebriated state. Any attempt to blackmail him with the possibility that someone else will see it is worthless; he doesn't care."

John frowned. "He doesn't care about my opinion that much. He's Sherlock!"

Mycroft stared at him. "Are you really so daft?"

In that moment, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes walked into the waiting room with a loopy Sherlock between them. They were holding him up by his elbows and looked delightfully amused.

"The doctor said he's going to be just fine," Mr. Holmes said.

"That's great," John smiled and stood from the uncomfortable chair.

Sherlock seemed to notice John for the first time. "John!" He tried to run to John but was stopped by his parents. He whined and tried to wriggle free.

"Sherlock, you can snuggle with John in the car," Mrs. Holmes said patiently.

Sherlock smiled brightly. " 'Kay."

John tried not to laugh. It was going to be an interesting day.

John was sitting in the back of the car with Sherlock mumbling into his neck and Mycroft staring out the window uncomfortably. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were shooting John smiles every so often.

"Jooohn," Sherlock moaned.

"Yes?"

"You smell so nice…Why is that?"

"I don't know. Deduce it."

Sherlock grumbled to himself and hid his face in John's neck. While John really liked Sherlock's parents, he was starting to feel a little awkward with Sherlock draped over him while they were there.

Sherlock moved to whisper in John's ear, "I want to lick you everywhere."

John nearly chocked on air, his face heating up immediately.

Sherlock was smiling brightly at him.

He wrapped his arms around Sherlock and pulled him to his chest, "Shush, Sherlock."

Mr. and Mrs. Holmes didn't seem to notice anything wrong, but John saw Mycroft smirking in the window's reflection. That bastard.

They arrived at Sherlock's house ten minutes later without any more embarrassing blunders from the drugged teen.

"Come on," John took Sherlock's hand, "time for bed."

"Are we going to have sex now?"

John stopped walking and his jaw dropped. Sherlock's family was looking at him with raised eyebrows.

"No!" John started to drag Sherlock to the steps. He knew that his face had to be bright red. "You're going to get some rest."

"Nooo," Sherlock whined, "I don't want to sleep."

"Too bad!"

John managed to drag Sherlock up the steps and into his room. He made Sherlock sit on his bed and John started to take off his shoes for him. Sherlock was staring down at him dazedly.

John looked up at him and sighed. "Sherlock, you can't talk about sex in front of your family like that."
"Why not?"

"It's indecent."
"Don't care. I want you. Now."

John finished removing Sherlock's shoes and pulled down the red duvet. He put his hands on Sherlock's shoulders and gently pushed him onto his back.

"No. You're drugged. It's time to sleep."

Sherlock whined again, "I don't wanna sleeeep."

John shushed him and kissed his forehead. "Relax, love." John always wanted to call him that, but had been afraid Sherlock would mock him for it. But now John figured that if it backfired, Sherlock wouldn't remember it the next day.

Sherlock giggled loudly. "You called me 'love'!"

"That I did," John covered his boyfriend up and smoothed out some creases in the duvet.

Sherlock was still giggling. "I like it. It makes me feel special. John, you're so wonderful. Have I ever told you that? I think I should tell you more. You're wonderful. You're wonderful. Wooondeeeerful."

John wasn't even trying to contain his laughter. "Am I, now?"

"Yep," Sherlock popped the 'p' sound at the end of the word. "You're the best." Sherlock was now lisping.

John smiled widely. Oh my god! "You're so cute," John told him and kissed the messy curls.

Sherlock frowned. "No, 'm not. You are. I adore you." His eyes started to droop, but he blinked rapidly. "I'm not tired."

"I never said you were," he sat on the edge of the bed. John's heart was beating rapidly. Sherlock was never this open when sober.

When Sherlock moved to put his fingers in his mouth, John slapped his hand away. "Oi! Don't touch in there."

"It's uncomfortable," Sherlock tried again.

John pinned Sherlock's hand down next to his head on the pillow. "Stop, Sherlock."

Sherlock stared up at him dazedly, his cheeks starting to puff slightly from the surgery and his hair a total mess. Affection flooded John's chest. He leaned down and rested their foreheads together.

Sherlock giggled again. "I like it when you do that. I like being close to you."

"I like being close to you, too."

Sherlock beamed. "Lie next to me."

John obliged, kicking off his shoes and crawling under the duvet with Sherlock. He watched in amusement as Sherlock clumsily shifted to lie on his side facing John.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around his pillow and giggled again, "Hi, John."

"Hi, Sherlock." John smiled warmly and brushed stray curls out of his face. "You feel okay?"

Sherlock nuzzled his pillow and looked back at John. "Uh huh. I want to kiss you."

John frowned. "Not a good idea."

"Whyyyy?"

"I really shouldn't be prodding the inside of your mouth."

"What if we keep our mouths closed?"

John shuffled closer. "That would be fine. Don't open your mouth at all, okay?"

"Yes, John."

John smiled and kissed Sherlock chastely. When Sherlock whimpered for more, John shook his head. "No more, sweetheart. Not tonight."

Sherlock smiled widely at the pet name. "Do you wanna have sex with me?"

John wished he had recorded Sherlock saying "sex" with a lisp. "Yeah, I do, but not now."

Sherlock suddenly growled and grabbed John's hand, shoving it to rest on his crotch.

Oh. "You're hard."

Sherlock nodded and tried (unsuccessfully) to grind against John's hand, moaning loudly.

"Shh!" John hissed and took his hand away.

Sherlock sighed in frustration and tried to grab John's hand again.

John sighed, "Sherlock, shush." When Sherlock kept scrambling, John said firmly, "I said shush, Sherlock."

Sherlock stilled immediately.

John moved closer and kissed his forehead. "Not tonight. Tonight, you sleep with me by your side," he moved his hand and ran it through Sherlock's hair—a gesture he knew would make Sherlock sleepy without fail.

Sherlock moaned (whether it was from sexual frustration, tiredness, or the drugs, John didn't know) and closed his eyes. "But 'm not tired."

"Yes, you are."

Sherlock's eyelids drooped. "I'm not," he slurred. He blinked rapidly. "I'm not. You lie."

John chuckled, turning his caresses though Sherlock's hair into a gentle massage, "Yes, and the fact that your eyes are closed right now means nothing."

Sherlock's eyes shot open. "They weren't closed."

"Of course not."

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's torso, cuddling into the soft fabric of John's jumper and shifting so their faces were only a few inches apart. John watched fondly as Sherlock tried valiantly to stay awake, eyes flickering open and closed and his jaw slackening. His lips parted into a heart shape and his eyes slide shut. Just when John thought he was finally asleep, his eyes opened again, though his lips remained parted.

John wished he could take a picture. So fucking cute.

After about two minutes, Sherlock's eyes failed to open and he started to snore through his parted Cupid's bow.

John huffed out a laugh, "Of course you're a snorer, you annoying arse." Nevertheless, he wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist and drifted off.

Sherlock's cheeks were fully swollen when they woke up, which sent John into a fit of laughter and Sherlock into a sulk. Sherlock had an icepack to his face when he asked, "John, how much did I humiliate myself yesterday?"

"Do you remember any of it?"

He shook his head. "Not a thing."

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's shoulders. He knew Sherlock would be mortified to know that he talked about sex in front of his family, humped John's hand, and nearly begged for sex. John thought about what to omit. "Hmmm…well you were mainly tired. You wanted to kiss for a while, but I didn't want to go inside your mouth."

"A wise decision," Sherlock said. "Was that it? I was tired and wanted kisses?"

"Pretty much," John kissed his temple. "You were pretty cute, actually."

Sherlock stared at him. "I was drugged. How was I cute?"

"You were giggly and sleepy. That's an adorable combination."

Sherlock just grumbled.

"Oh, by the way, I didn't know you have a lisp."

Sherlock snapped his gaze away, "Shut up."

"It was precious."

Sherlock tried to scowl, but the icepack ruined the effect. "I knew this was a bad idea. You're going to mock me for weeks, aren't you?"

"Hey now, I didn't mean to offend you." John gently grasped Sherlock's chin and turned his head so their eyes could meet. "You know you'll always be amazing to me, right? The side of you I saw last night it between us, and I'm not mocking you. I'm glad you trusted me enough to let me take care of you. Okay?"

Sherlock's puffy cheeks reddened. "Okay."

John opened up his arms. "Come here." Sherlock crawled into John's lap and rested his head on John's chest, sighing peacefully. John rubbed his back, "There you go, love."

Sherlock gasped and sat up to stare wide-eyed. "'Love?'"

"Will that be a problem? You seemed to enjoy it last night…"

Sherlock punched John lightly in the chest. "I hate you."

"No you don't, love." John could feel Sherlock smiling. "I'll only say it when we're alone, okay?"

Sherlock kissed John's cheek. "Yes, John." They sat in silence for a few minutes before Sherlock asked, "Is that really all I did? I remember being...aroused."

"That's all, Sherlock," John hugged him closer. "You must have dreamt it."

Sherlock nodded and settled against John's chest.

John resisted a sigh of relief.

The whole sex thing could wait for another day.

I hope you liked it!