The case was finally over, but Sherlock couldn't seem to switch his brain off to get the rest he needed, the rest he'd deserved after chasing clues across half of Wales.
He'd tried everything, reading, a hot bath, lavender oil, camomile tea.
Nothing worked!
And what's more, it was beginning to disrupt John's sleeping pattern something chronic.
After the third night of hearing floorboards creaking, the strains of violin and low grumbling coming from the lounge, John had definitely got to the end of his very short wick.
Sherlock was shocked as he turned from his pacing to find John staring at him looking like a bulldog chewing a wasp.
"Did I wake you?" Sherlock asked, tilting his head.
"I couldn't get to sleep…" John growled, his temper short.
The next thing Sherlock knew he was being whisked along to the bedroom and forcibly put into bed by the tiny, irate doctor. Sherlock was going to protest, but he didn't get much of a chance as John fell into the bed beside him, too exhausted to tackle the stairs again.
Sherlock remained quiet in the dark for a long time, frowning at John and his collapse into his bed. This was unusual to say the least. But Sherlock fell back and closed his eyes, finding it easy to fall asleep with John beside him.
At some point during the night, the two of them seemed to migrate together, getting closer until John had his arm around Sherlock and Sherlock's legs were tangled with John's.
They remained like that until they woke, the two of them opening their eyes to very different shades of blue. John blinked a few times in surprise, Sherlock's lips parted in shock. But not once did they complain and they didn't move for a long time.
Thus, every time Sherlock ended up wired after a case, John would sleep beside him, snuggling close with happy smiles on their faces.
