As the morning light fell softly across his eyelids, John Watson stirred under the soft sheets of his bed. Beneath his hand shifted the warm body pressed against him. Opening his eyes, John's gaze fell on the detective sprawled under the covers, still asleep after their deliciously rough night. Grinning madly, John pressed his lips genty to his lover's pronounced cheekbone, then to his perfect cupid's bow. As Sherlock was awoken by the fluttering kisses, he smiled at John's sickeningly sweet way of waking him up. Not that he minded, of course.
"Morning, John." His deep voice rumbled, raspy from having just woken up. He pressed himself closer into the chest of his faithful blogger, tangling their legs together in a happy mess of limbs. Suddenly, a buzzing sound interrupted their lazy cuddling, making them both turn their heads towards the culprit: Sherlock's phone.
"It's probably Lestrade with a case or something", groaned John, quite unhappy at the thought that they'd need to get up and solve gruesome murders.
As John started pushing back the sheets, a pillow swished past his head and landed square on the phone. Sherlock's arm that had just thrown the pillow then snaked back around John's hip.
"Sherlock, what are you-"
"Shhh, John. I'm sure Lestrade can manage on his own for once." Sherlock then closed his eyes, tightening his grip on his lover.
John smiled and tangled his finger through Sherlock's messy curls.
"You're right, I'm sure he can."