Coaxing

After a moment, of observing my friend in his foetal position, I feel the need to uncurl him. "Watson, I do apologise, but I must ask you to wake up." I put a hand on his shoulder.

A sniff as he breathes the cognisant air. "…Oh, go away, Holmes," he says softly, as his voice isn't up yet.

"I shall choose to ignore your incivility."

"Well what is there to be civil about at-" he pauses to check the time "- twenty past six?"

I sing-song in a way that is reserved only for teasing him, or possibly Mycroft. "My dear fellow, the sun has risen, the birds are a-twittering, the light is filtering through the living room windows very attractively-"

"Is there a fire?" My views of the bright morn are unerring, even at this slight from the horizontal chap's pessimism.

"No, Watson, it is going to be a delightful-"

"Is somebody going to die?" I don't think he quite understands what I'm getting at. The man's definitely sluggish.

"Every day somebody dies, but let's not think about that, let's think about the children on their way to school-"

"Holmes, why must you wake me at such an hour?"

"There is a case on hand, I would be happy if you should accompany me." Perhaps I should have been more direct.

There is some movement as the face of the doctor disappears under the covers. I sit down on the edge of his duvet, in case we end up wrestling over it, for an advantage. This is going to take some convincing.

"Why do you need me to go with you?"

"Oh..." I'm stumped. He never usually asks this. "I suppose it's just more enjoyable to have you around, Watson." I pull some sheet away from his face that is obscuring my view to his eyes. He frowns at me for a moment.

With a groan, he gets up, and I wonder what made him change his mind.