"Hmm?" Sherlock responded with his hands stuffed in his pockets of his longcoat. He didn't turned to look at him. Instead, his eyes remained at the rails, body swaying thoughtfully.
"When was the last time you've slept?" John asked as he stretched his arms to ease his aching muscles and yawned. His body shuddered and he placed his hand over his mouth before ending his long yawn. He turned to look at Sherlock and the detective just rolled his eyes and smirked. "I'm serious, Sherlock."
"Two days ago. Only for three hours." He admitted as he went back to his swaying. Both John and Sherlock looked to their left and saw the train come by and stop in front of them. After the doors opened, they entered, noticing there was very little people on the train. They sat at the middle, elbows touching. "Didn't realize I had fallen asleep until after I woke up." Sherlock said as the doors closed and the train took them. Sherlock stared at the window of the train as their body's rocked from left to right slightly. His mind was somewhere else, back into the crime scene to go over what he has done and what did he miss. After reviewing, he hummed in satisfication and removed his gloved hands from his pockets. He turned his head to speak to John but he immediatly saw his eyes closed, head lowered, and breathing soft. Poor John was really exhausted enough to sleep in a tube.
Sherlock's thoughs faltered when the train hit a small bump and Johns body leaned towards Sherlock. As soon as his head connected to Sherlock's shoulder, he winced. John was snoring softly now, shifting slightly so that he fit comfortably. Sherlock didn't want to wake him up because honestly, John looked so much peaceful when he was asleep, so much open and vulnerable for anything making Sherlock more aware of his surroundings. Sherlock protected John when he's alseep but every second that John was awake, he would always protect Sherlock.
John shifted slightly once more and mumbled something. Sherlock wasn't sure but when John released a moan, he froze. His mind wanted to know what he was dreaming about but instead, he stood still. He wanted him to rest so that he would continue to catch up with him in the morning. That's why he accepts him as a friend. John was always there when he needed someone. He was there when no one else believed him. He was there to give out unnecessary comments about his deductions but Sherlock always took those comments to his heart, sending his heart to race momentarily. He was even there when the assassin was strangling him to death at the Blind Banker case. Without him there, he would had been dead. Everywhere he would turn, he was always there somehow, like an angel watching a man.
"Sherlock?" John mumbled in his sleep and shifted to lift his head. Quickly but gently, Sherlock slipped his hand from behind the nape of his neck and wrapped his arm around him. He hushed him quietly and caused John to sleep again. Sherlock could feel his wound through his shirt. His fingers traced some of it, wondering how he felt in a battlefield. Clearly he wasn't the intended target but he was still shot nonetheless and he could almost feel Johns pain, his own shoulder burning slightly. He countiued to trace his finger against the large scar, tracing it through his memories.
John shifted in his sleep, causing Sherlock to come back into reality. His head turing around, ignoring others that were staring at the two. He saw that they were a stop away and removed his hand fast enough to wake John. He opened his eyes slowly and looked around. "I had been sleeping on you? Sorry." He said in a tired tone as he rubbed his eyes.
"I haven't even noticed." Sherlock waved his hand slightly as he got up. John stood as he walked with Sherlock before the doors opened. As they left, Sherlock stared at his feet. He did notice John sleeping on his shoulder. Ever since his head connected with his shoulder, he began to take notice in Johns breathing, the faint heartbeats, and the slight mumble that came out of his mouth. He silently thanked the tube and smiled to himself.
"Sorry? What was that?" John repilied as he heard Sherlock mumble. They were outside now, on their way to Baker Street... To their home.
"Hmm? Nothing." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked ahead. In the corner of his eye, he saw John smile towards him. His head turned to see him and when he saw his smile fully, his heart warmed and that warmth spread through his body, afraid it might spread across his cheeks. To make things less uncomfortable, he returned the smile and kept contact for a few seconds before John blinked away and removed his keys from his pockets.
It's been a while since they had a tube ride home and Sherlock will never speak of the details. Now everytime Johns tired, Sherlock would recommend the tube knowing that sooner or later, John will lean on his shoulder again.
"Sherlock, I'm exhausted. Let go back."
"The tube, then?"