Title: Until Dawn Breaks
Disclaimer: Sherlock is owned by Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, the BBC and other associated parties. Original story belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I do not make any profit from this story and the plot is purely fiction.
Summary: Slash, S/J, a 221b drabble. Sherlock enjoys a morning in bed.
Rating: PG
Warnings: fluff, snuggling, implied slash
Pairings: SherlockxJohn
Word Count: 221
Author's Note:
xXx
The window is opened slightly, curtains fluttering in the predawn breeze that flows through the streets of London. Outside, the sky is just starting to lighten from the dark gray black of night to a grayish indigo, the few stars that could be seen in London fading as the sun makes its daily track through the sky. It feels good on his naked chest as he leans against his headboard. Beside him, John is asleep, breathing evenly, curled along his side. Smiling, he brushes a hand through his short blond hair.
"Hmm, Sherlock…" He stirs, murmuring his name as he blinks owlishly. He doesn't say anything as he pulls the ex-army doctor closer, enjoying the feel of skin on skin, the compact shape of John's body wrapped in his arms.
Yawning large enough that it must make his jaw ache, the blonde shifted closer, head on Sherlock's shoulder. The warmth that flows through him is not entirely due to the warm body next to him. He can't keep the smile off his face, inhaling the scent of John, the smell he has started to associate with home.
"What are you smiling at?" He murmurs, looking up at Sherlock.
"It's unimportant." He replied, settling back down. John is asleep a few minutes later, still wrapped around Sherlock. Life is better, much better.