I was feeling down and needed something to cheer me up.

Sherlock needed a cigarette. No, scratch that. He needed several cigarettes.

He was pacing across the sitting room, his headache worsening. He was bored. He was irritated. His brain was going to explode. He couldn't stay still. He could feel each pulse thud painfully in his head.

The worst part of all was that John was completely ignoring him.

John was sitting in his chair watching some awful talk-show on the television. How could he stand that nonsense? How could he favor that nonsense over Sherlock?

He kept pacing, his eyes glued on John. Stupid John. Stupid John with his simple mind that never causes him grief. It was times like this when Sherlock felt sorry for himself and wished he were an idiot like everyone else.

Sherlock growled to himself and paced with heavier footsteps to get John's attention. He was aware that he was acting like a toddler, but he was too agitated to care. To Sherlock's surprise, John was still ignoring him! He couldn't take it anymore. He stalked over to the sofa, picked up a pillow, and chucked it at John's head.

"What the hell?" John snapped when the pillow hit his temple.

"Turn off that mind-numbing rubbish, I can feel my brain oozing out of my ears."

John threw the pillow back at Sherlock, who caught it before it hit him in the nose. John glared at him. "What's gotten into you today? You've been driving me crazy for the past twenty minutes with your pacing."

Sherlock smirked. So John had noticed him.

Unfortunately, John also noticed his smirk. John scowled. "God, you're such a brat," he got up from his chair.

Sherlock's eyes widened. "John?" No, John wasn't supposed to go away; he was supposed to stay and occupy Sherlock!

John grabbed his laptop from the table by the window, opened the lid, and started typing. Before Sherlock could go over to see what he was doing, a song started to play from the speakers. More specifically, a waltz was playing.

Sherlock looked at John, raising an eyebrow.

John sighed heavily, but there were traces of a small smile playing at his lips. He held out his hand, "Come here, Sherlock."

Sherlock slowly walked over and put his hand in John's, resisting the huge grin threatening to take over his face.

John brought their joined hands up and wrapped his arm around Sherlock's waist, taking the lead. They started to waltz with the rhythm of the piece. Sherlock was secretly pleased that the dance lessons he gave John had paid off, even if it was for the wedding...Sherlock expelled the thought from his head. No need to think of that now.

John was his, now.

John shook his head, still smiling. "You're such a dick, you know that? If you want attention, you can just ask."

Sherlock frowned. "I don't want-"

"Yeah, you do," John laughed. "You do. I know you. You want attention when you're bored."

Sherlock huffed, "I'm not a child."

"Yeah, sure."

Sherlock pouted, but then John kissed his lower lip, and the urge to grin widely became too much to resist.

John smiled brightly when Sherlock smiled. "There you go, isn't that better?"

Sherlock nodded. He felt his headache and irritation dissolving, and his fondness for John taking over.

"So, John, you just had this waltz saved on your laptop ready for the occasion?"

John snorted. "I went on YouTube, for your information. I new dancing would calm you down."

Sherlock hummed and didn't bother denying it. "You always know what to do, John."

"Well," John cleared his throat, "someone's got to take care of you."

They waltzed until the song faded and a new song came on, this one much slower and not much of a waltz at all.

"Oh, I guess autoplay is on," John said, stopping their movement looking over at his laptop.

"It's fine," Sherlock said. They swayed back and forth slowly, Sherlock's earlier irritation melting away completely. He felt peaceful. Sherlock rested his cheek on John's shoulder, the warm material of the jumper against his skin. He kissed the side of John's neck, closing his eyes. He really appreciated John's efforts. Should he tell him that? It would be admitting some vulnerability, but it would make John happy. Besides, he didn't care much about being vulnerable around John anymore.

"Thank you, John," Sherlock said softly.

"Next time you throw a pillow at my head, you'll be getting an angrier response," John said, wrapping his arms around Sherlock in a full embrace.

Sherlock chuckled and nuzzled his face into John's neck subconsciously. "I don't doubt that for a minute." He nearly moaned when John ran his hand through Sherlock's curls.

John tapped his shoulder. "Lift your head."

Sherlock did, and was extremely pleased when John's lips found his. John kissed him slowly and gently, with no intent to take things further, just kissing for the sake of kissing. Sometimes, Sherlock liked those kisses the best. Their kiss made little squeaky sounds, nearly drowned out over the drone of the music from the laptop. John's lips were warm and soft, just asking for Sherlock's tongue to trace over them.

John hummed contently and sucked Sherlock's bottom lip gently, giving it one last peck before pulling away. He stroked Sherlock's cheek, and Sherlock gulped at the intensity of his lover's gaze.

"You're amazing," John murmured.

Sherlock, ever delighted by John's flattery, blushed and leaned into his touch.

John took Sherlock's hands in his and led Sherlock to the sofa. John lay down across the sofa and opened his arms.

Sherlock climbed onto John, careful not to crush him, and buried his face into his warm, firm chest. He inhaled the scent of John's cologne and smiled softly when strong arms came to hold him.

"Such a brat," John whispered, "all you needed was a good cuddle."

"Shut up, John," he mumbled, his eyes closing. He wrapped his arms around John's middle and squeezed lightly.

"Don't squeeze my fat," John said.

"You're not fat, you're stocky."

"Hm, thanks. Skinny arsehole."

Sherlock giggled, feeling giddy and tired. Being petulant took a lot of energy sometimes. He felt John kiss the top of his head and pet his hair again.

"Go to sleep," John told him quietly.

"Why?"

"It'll give me some peace and quiet for a little while. Well, except for your snoring..."

Sherlock's head shot up. "I do not!"

John bit his bottom lip, holding back a smirk. "Okay."

"I don't," he felt his face burning.

"Yes, you do. I happen to sleep with you, you know. It doesn't bother me, by the way."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," Sherlock put his head down on John's chest again. "I don't. You're a liar."

John laughed, and Sherlock felt the vibration against his cheek. "Whatever you say, love."

Sherlock, still feeling embarrassed, pinched John's side. "Idiot."

"Ouch, git. Sleep."

Sherlock thought about staying awake just to spite John, but that took too much effort. He felt warm, safe, and at bliss, so he cuddled into John's chest more, breathed deeply, and let the sound of John's heartbeat under his ear lull him to sleep.

I'm a fluffy garbage can.