Disclaimer: I own no part of the BBC Sherlock world and make no money off of this.
A/N: Listen, my boyfriend is the most infuriatingly obnoxious snorer in the whole entire world's history of forever. And yet, just like Sherlock, contact will shut him right up. So, here you have that all played out. My boyfriend has no idea I read or write fanfics, and I bet he'd hate that I use so many aspects of our relationship in fics but...whatever haha
It starts innocently enough. Sherlock and John are working a case in Scotland and have to spend the night at a local Inn. It's nothing that hasn't happened on previous cases, but it is admittedly rare and they have always been able to get two rooms, or at the very least a room with two beds. This time? No such luck - the tiny Inn only has ten rooms and all but one are already taken.
So here they both lay in the same double bed. Sherlock is actually asleep on his left side, his back towards John, since the case is solved. John, for his part, is lying on his back glaring angrily at the ceiling while his fists clench at his sides.
"The bloody fuck is this?" John hisses through his tightly clenched teeth. Because "Yes, Billy the Cross Keys inn keeper, mine apparently is a snorer now."
Most of their stay overs for cases have been in separate rooms, their last shared room being for the Baskerville case, and Sherlock definitely didn't snore then. But, had he even slept during that case? John's brain tries to think of the answer to that, but he can't definitively say one way or the other, especially with Sherlock loudly snoring next to him, breaking his concentration every few seconds.
Sherlock rolls over on to his back and John is granted a small ray of hope, for Sherlock has stopped snoring in this new position. John sighs in relief as his eyes fall closed, ready to take full advantage of the situation. If he can just fall asleep before Sherlock starts up again, maybe he'd be able to ignore it.
But no, just as he thinks it, Sherlock lets out an even louder snore than before. John's eyes shoot open as his jaw clenches again. John reaches out and pushes at Sherlock's arm, not entirely certain what his game plan was for the move. To move him back to his left side? To wake him up so they can both be miserable? Either way, it's not an entirely kind move to make, but John couldn't care less at the moment.
Over the course of what feels like the next few hours (but is more likely not even half of one) John continues to push, prod, and - admittedly - hit Sherlock to get him to just shut up for two bleeding minutes so he can fall asleep.
At one point, Sherlock grumbles in annoyance at being pushed around and, still asleep, rolls on to his right side so that he's now facing John. This obviously makes the snoring louder, because science. John growls angrily as he rolls on to his left side, facing Sherlock with mere inches between them.
John lifts his right hand, wanting nothing more in his exhausted, frustrated state than to smack his best friend in the face. Hard. Instead, the closer his hand gets to Sherlock's cheek, the slower the progress becomes. He grits his teeth again to control the tense, slightly-shaking-from-anger limb as he places it gently on to Sherlock's left cheek.
To John's surprise, the snoring stops as Sherlock lets out a quiet huff at the contact. He isn't any more awake than he was just moments before, but he is blessedly, for the first time this excruciatingly long night, silent.
With a relieved sigh, John pulls his hand back to himself and returns to lying on his back, eyes already closing as they anticipate sleep finally taking hold.
It takes just 30 seconds for the snoring to start again, and John closes his eyes tighter as he fights honest to God tears of frustration, sobbing quietly at the injustice of the world. He rolls back on to his left side and quickly settles his hand on the other man's cheek once more while performing a near-silent shushing sound.
As Sherlock sighs and quiets again, John chuckles to himself tiredly. Without realizing, his thumb begins to move softly over his friend's pronounced cheekbone as sleep gladly overtakes him.
He's awoken again what feels like seconds later to the sound of more snoring, but the pain in his left shoulder tells him that he must have been in this position for some time now. With a pained groan, he rolls onto his back once more and tries to fall asleep through the twinge of pain. But Sherlock is snoring again, presumably because the contact has ended.
Without fully thinking it through, John scoots higher up on the bed with his pillow, making Sherlock's head fall just about at shoulder height. He then closes the minimal space that separates their bodies and gently (as gently as he can manage when the scenario calls for him to place his still slightly-aching arm under the other man's head) settles Sherlock on top of his left side.
Sherlock subconsciously shifts himself yet closer and in to a comfortable position - his head more on John's pectoral than his shoulder, his left hand near his heart, and his legs entwined with John's. He lets out another, larger, contented sigh and all is quiet. Not even a hint at a snore.
John subconsciously wraps his arms securely around Sherlock and smiles as he finally, finally lets himself believe that he can sleep through the rest of the night. With a quiet "Oh, thank God," he does.
In the morning, John is woken not by a sound, but the feeling of Sherlock moving slightly in his arms. The rational part of John's brain that should be nervous to face Sherlock post-nocturnal-cuddle is still too tired to give a damn, so instead he makes a noise (a grunt, really) of discontent and pulls Sherlock tighter against him to stop his wiggling about.
"John?" Sherlock asks quietly, sounding disoriented.
"Shh," John shushes, jaw feeling like it's working overly hard, "Sleeping."
"You're talking," Sherlock argues, slightly more alert.
"Only because you started it."
Just as John is about to fall back to sleep due to the prolonged silence from the other man, Sherlock speaks up once more.
"John?" he asks quietly again.
"Sherlock?" he parrots back.
"Why are you holding me?" there's a definite edge of embarrassment to his voice now.
John sighs heavily in frustration at not being allowed to return to sleep when this man - this incredibly warm, comforting man still in his arms - denied him rest for so long last night before answering, "It was the only way to shut you up."
"What?"
"You snore."
"I snore?"
"To put it mildly. You practically saw logs in your sleep," John keeps the conversation going, but he steadfastly refuses to open his eyes. He's not honestly certain they could open right now with how heavy his lids feel.
"I kept you up," Sherlock states guiltily, feeling awful about the fact.
"Yeah. Until I discovered that contact shuts you up. Kind of wish it would do that again, honestly. Sherlock, I'm so tired."
"Your presence soothed me," he states in wonder, and John recognizes that tone.
"Oh God, please, Sherlock," he whines, "Do not turn this in to an experiment right now. Just…stay," he says as he hugs him close again, "and let me get a few more hours of sleep."
"That would soothe you?" He asks with genuine curiosity.
"Yes, Sherlock. And I'll even sweeten the deal by agreeing to whatever experiment you're working out in your head if you just, please, dear God above, let me go back to sleep right now."
Sherlock shifts himself to become comfortable in the embrace once more before whispering, "Goodnight, John," with a small smile on his face.
John simply hums in reply, a content smile on his own.
A/N: I can hear you guys now (could hear you as I wrote this, honestly) asking about a sequel or continuation that shows Sherlock's experiment(s). I am not opposed to that idea and that may come to pass, but right now it's not a plan of mine. But I hear you.
As always, I would love to hear your thoughts via comment or constructive criticism!
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