Greg is more than used to Sherlock showing up at his flat out of the blue, so when he gets home, he's not in the slightest surprised to find Sherlock stretched out on his couch in complete darkness. Greg just sighs and sheds his jacket, hanging it by the door and then clicking on a lamp.
"Dontchu have your own flat to go occupy, sunshine?"
Sherlock hums from the couch but makes no attempt to reply or move. Greg goes about untucking his shirt, unbuttoning the cuffs and the top few buttons on his way to the kitchen. He flicks on the kettle, and then heads down the hall to his room. He strips, changing into a pair of loose sweats and an old t-shirt before heading back into the kitchen as the kettle boils. He sets about making two cups of tea, even though he doesn't expect Sherlock to drink his.
He pads softly back into the lounge, sets one mug on the side table next to Sherlock's head, and nudges at the man's feet. He obediently lifts them long enough for Greg to settle in and then promptly drops them into his lap. Surprisingly, Sherlock reaches for his mug and sips at his tea. Greg rubs his bare ankle with his free hand while he nearly gulps down his tea.
"Long day?"
Greg groans and flops his head back against the couch.
"You have no idea."
Sherlock slides the mostly empty mug from Greg's grasp and sets in on the coffee table. He clambers into the DIs lap, a suspicious smile on his face.
"I could help you forget about it," Sherlock whisper in his ear, dropping his voice an octave.
"Sherlock, please. I just wanna relax. Can we just curl up together? Can you handle that?"
Sherlock nods against Greg's collarbone, rather disappointed. Greg presses a kiss to the wild mass of hair in his face and strokes the man's back softly. Sherlock suddenly pulls away, getting to his feet before offering a hand to Greg. Greg takes the man's hand and lets himself be pulled down the hall into his bedroom. Sherlock pulls back the duvet, pressing Greg down into the bed before following. Greg's mildly surprised when Sherlock basically becomes an affectionate octopus, pulling Greg close and wrapping all of his limbs around the Inspector.
"You ok, sunshine? You're not, like, dying of something, are you?"
Sherlock chuckles, kissing Greg's forehead.
"You're an idiot, Greg. Relax. Go to sleep. You need it."
Rather reluctantly, Greg relaxes into Sherlock's embrace. Sherlock strokes the elder mans back and speaks to him in a soft voice he reserves only for the Detective Inspector and before he knows it, Greg is out cold against his chest. He kisses the man's silver hair with a smile before slipping into a light doze.
