Don't hate me for not writing my story.. This popped into my head. And, as always, don't own. If I did, so many ships would be shown...
John was perfectly content in his bed; even if the bloody heater had broken, he was happy. He had his detective curled up next to him fast asleep. John would worry about the implications later.
2 Hours Ago
John walked into the flat cautiously the shopping in hand, making sure that it was safe to continue entering, and not being attacked by another of Sherlock's experiments, to find it extremely cold. Bloody radiator. John put away the groceries and was making himself tea when he heard the door of Sherlock's bedroom behind him open. He turned around and promptly began laughing, Sherlock waS standing there, shivering, fully dressed with his coat along with three scarves and two fluffy hats pushed on top of his curls. He was also wrapped up in a big duvet, no doubt from Sherlock's bed.
"Oh stop wheezing John. It is cold outside and because of my lack of body fat, my body does not keep heat."
"Well it might help if you close the windows." John walked around the freezing flat, closing all the windows.
"They were open for an experiment."
"Yes- well, I'm going to sit upstairs in bed now."
John had walked upstairs and had been in bed for not even two minutes, when Sherlock burst in only wearing his dress pants and violet, button-up shirt. He walked up to the bed and wiggled under the covers, hiding in a ball next to John's side. John pulled up the covers to peer at Sherlock as a little mass at his side, upon feeling to gaze, Sherlock perked up, coming out and wrapping himself around a flabbergasted John.
"It's cold."
John chuckled, looking at the pouty detective who truly looked like the five-year old he acted as.
"Yes it is Sherlock."
"And you're warm John." Sherlock pressed his cold lips against John's neck, gaining the satisfaction of causing the ex-soldier to gasp. Sherlock slowly proceeded to breathe softly on John's neck as he licked, kissed and bit at the tender spot. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist, pulling him closer as he leaned his head back, giving more skin up to Sherlock's wandering lips. The consulting detective worked his way up, over John's jaw line, whining when John wouldn't look back down at him. With John still not moving, Sherlock pulled John down to press their lips together. The first kiss was chaste, like most often were, and like others, the next kisses chased innocence out the door. Teeth clashed, hair was pulled, along with the words "I love you.", "You git.", and "How someone so smart is an idiot is beyond me.", permeated the room as they were whispered with breathy voices.
(A/N): Well. That escalated quickly... .
John smirked when he woke up, after the grogginess of the morning left him. Lying half on top of him was the, for once, sleeping form of Sherlock; his hair wild curls going whichever way. The happiness was instantly chased away by the worry. The worry that Sherlock, asexual Sherlock, would only want John this once, or when ever he had nothing better to do.
Sherlock luxuriously woke up soon after, to find John looking at him, sadness showing in every ounce of him. Sherlock began playing over the previous night in his head, trying to figure out what could possibly make John look like this. His mind coming up blank, Sherlock decided that he would have to ask.
"John? What is it? Did I do something wrong?"
"No. But-." John stopped, feeling not able to complete his thought properly in word form.
''But what John? Please tell me."
"I don't want this to be a product of boredom." John softly gestured to their blanket-covered forms. "This, the kisses, the laying together. I don't want to be something to just pass the time."
Sherlock listened, slowly growing a smile on his face. "How could you possibly think that John. You're always more than a simple way to pass the time. Why can't you see your so much more?"
"Sh-." John's efforts were quickly stopped by a long, pale hand covering his mouth.
"We're staying in bed today John."