A/N: I don't own Sherlock or the characters as they keep reminding me. Another Pause universe fic.
Chasing cases is the liveliest thing in the world to Watson and Holmes but that comes with a huge adrenaline crash after each is solved. A triple homicide involving leopard spots and a shark tooth has them wiped out. They stumble up the steps to their apartment wearily. Normally the midday light would keep them functional for a while longer. They'd shower and John would eat, force some toast down Sherlock's gullet. Then, John would blog and Sherlock would start on an experiment.
First thing when they get inside John makes two cups of tea. The men sink into their chairs sipping the soothing beverages. Barely three minutes later they've set the cups down and are dozing in their respective chairs. Sherlock is the first to wake early in the afternoon. His long limbs feel heavy and his eyelids feel like sandpaper when they scrape open to reveal bloodshot eyes. A quick glance around and his mind slowly kicks into gear to tell him he'd fallen asleep for approximately forty three minutes- why he felt more tired than before. How inconvenient. He rolls his neck slowly, finding it to be sore as expected for his position. Well, case done may as well start the experiment he'd been mulling around. Then his eyes land on the still out John.
Sherlock finds himself smiling at the peaceful look on the doctor's face. The gentle rose and fall of the other man's chest under his horrendous jumper lull Sherlock into staying in his seat to observe the doctor further. Tear on the sleeve with green paint flecks clinging to it- from the dumpster they'd been thrown against. Unkempt, dirty hair- the last few days had indeed been busy if John had found no time to shower. That was Sherlock's fault, he knows, but usually John would force him to stop so they could take care of their transports' needs. John also hadn't eaten much- again his fault. Usually he'd also stop long enough for John to have dinners. This case had been all consuming; neither of them had really noticed this until now. He'd make it up to John later he decides.
John showing her wear meant Sherlock was in an infinitely worse condition. He knows this is true because his blinks are getting longer and longer to complete. 'An experiment would keep you entertained,' his mind supplies. He moves to get up again but the sight of John's peaceful expression halts him again. To hell with an experiment; it would only ruin the tranquil feeling covering the both of them. He allows the transport's need to take over again and is asleep almost instantly.
John groans softly, roused from probably the best sleep he'd had in a week. This was saying something; his neck and shoulder are absolutely killing him. He rubs out the kinks and glances around blearily. Looks like he fell asleep, thank god Sherlock had chosen something quiet to do he thinks. Then he sees the man himself curled up impossibly in his chair. How he ever got those gangly limbs in there was a mystery that would never be solved. His cheek is crushed into the arm of but he looks so young and calm like this. He looks so unlike his waking self that it's almost laughable.
It's also incredibly endearing. He smiles warmly, watching the detective. John knows that there are plenty of things he really should be doing. He desperately needs a shower for one. They both need to eat too. And a decent night's sleep in a bed wouldn't hurt. He should call into the clinic to pick up a few shifts before the next case. None of it seemed important anymore though as he watches Sherlock. How he adores this man. A few more minutes wouldn't kill them. He closes his eyes again, a small smile still on his face.