He was standing in the corner of the room, near the almost-closed doors. Bulky darkness of the midnight was strangely comforting, giving a shade of invisibility. In front of him, at the place where his gaze was buried into, was a big bed with a single man. Moonlight shining through the window was gently painting the lines of his face, letting the cheekbones and coal black hair stand out. The skin was pale, eyes closed. Even through the sheet it was clear he is rather thin, probably haven't eaten for a couple of days, but his pose was relaxed as he was deep asleep - finally, the first thing after solving a case.
The man observing him cracked a tiny smile. In his eyes, there was a strange emotion - a loyalty mixed with a great deal of attachment. For some reason, he just wanted to look. That's why he came out of his warm bed, that's why he ignored his own tiredness and other needs - for that single sight of peace on that face.
Somehow, he did not find it strange. More like it was natural to him. No matter what he did, he always returned to his side, he always found himself right next to that man. There was no helping it. It was simply supposed to be like that, and no one could ever change it.
And he was glad, for that little knowing it will stay like that forever. The two of them. it will always be that - them. Not letting anyone else in, not letting anyone else close enough. Why? Because they were special. Their relationship was special. Seemed fragile, but it was anything but that. They could not go on without each other, and something in them knew, and that something was making damn sure that they'll be there for each other.
For a moment, it seemed like the lips let some words escape. They passed into the night air and blurred into the silence. A perfect sense was lost, though it might have never existed. Oddly enough, even though not having a meaning for the lack of audience, it was probably the most meaningful and the most sentimental thing he had ever said.
"I love you, Sherlock."
Turning around, he reached for the doors and simply walked out of the room, careful enough as not to wake up the other man. A quiet click sound signalized shutting of the doors, and a muffled steps behind them gradually faded away.
The bed sheets shuffled as the man lying on them made a hint of movement. The eyes stayed closed, yet a quiet murmur interrupted the silence of the room: "Love you too, John..."