For Gabrielle Cornell

John Watson was the cuddling type.

Whatever the original reason had been for doing something as mad as sleeping with his best friend, he now wanted to curl up with his arms around Sherlock and just hold him. Use his body to say "thank you", "I liked it" and "I'm yours".

The problem with Sherlock, however, was never knowing how he was going to react: he might surprise everyone and be courteous. Or he might just shoot the wall.

John lay there in the dark, staring up at the invisible ceiling, wanting desperately to reach out to the warm body next to him - the warm, well and truly sexed out body next to him. The body that had made him crazy, desperate; the body that had had John making the kind of noises that would give Mrs. Hudson nightmares for weeks.

In the end John decided to play it safe and just ask.

"Sherlock..." he had barely began

"Of course you can" the detective interjected, opening his arms and pulling John into them.

"How did you know?" John asked into Sherlock's chest.

Quite uncharacteristically Sherlock dropped a kiss on the other man's forehead.

"It was elementary my dear Watson."