A/N: Based off one of Arisprite's sentences. 3 Exhausted. :P
"After the shadows under his eyes grew so deep that even Lestrade worried, he finally fell asleep, curled into his armchair across from Watson's watchful eyes, and stubbornly refusing to lay on the couch or go–heaven forbid- to his own bed."
"I'm fine!" The Detective growled, stubbornly ignoring the weariness that plagued his mind and body. It had only been -what?- a week since the case had began, and he was still fully functioning. He didn't need rest! Besides, he was so close! He just needed a few more details…
Watson glared at his friend. "No, you are not!" He argued. "Eight days without sleep isn't healthy, Holmes. For Gods sake, go to bed already!" The clock tolled out the late hour, as though agreeing with him.
Holmes poured himself another cup of coffee, sipping it almost defiantly. "I'm fine!" He said again. Watson rolled his eyes, taking the cup out of his friends almost limp hand as it started to slip.
"Don't you think when you can't even hold on to your coffee anymore it's time for rest?" Holmes scowled, trying to take the coffee back without moving from his chair. Watson quickly backed up, holding the cup out of reach.
"Sleep. Now. Or I will knock you out myself." Holmes would have glared, but found he didn't have the energy. Maybe it was time for a rest…
He sunk down deeper into the chair, arms crossed over his chest in one final act of defiance. He doubted he'd have been able to move to the settee -let alone his room- anyway.
Within minutes the Detective was snoring softly, arms limp at his sides. Watson sighed, deciding that it would be safe to go to bed himself without worrying about Holmes faking it and getting up to continue to work on the case. His muttered 'about time' echoed around the silent room long after he'd left.