It was any other Friday night. The blogger and his detective had just finished a case and were now cuddled up on their bed, discussing it.
"That was just..." John struggled to find the right word for the case of the killer identical twins. He made a note to title that blog post Murder Two.
"Weird," Sherlock finished his boyfriend's sentence. "It was. It was just weird. But it was also brilliant. Extremely clever," he mused. John chuckled.
"Sound like anyone we know?" he teased.
"What, me? Brilliant, yes. Clever, of course. Weird? Absolutely not."
John propped himself up on his elbow so he could look his detective in the eye. "Sherlock, there's a jar of eyeballs in our microwave."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "That is an experiment," he said, defending himself.
"Yeah, but you know what kind of experiment?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "A weird one."
"Fine then. I suppose my experiments may be a little unusual. But," Sherlock smirked. "If I'm weird and you're mine, doesn't that make you weird by association?" The blogger nodded seriously.
"Yes, yes it does. But I'm okay with that, I accept it." Sherlock grinned. "Say, when's the last time you had more than an hour of sleep?" John knew that his detective had barely slept since the case started, which wasn't a healthy amount of days ago.
"About," Sherlock paused. "Last week?" Sherlock shrugged. John's eyes widened at this. His detective's health was always a priority right after a case. Especially after one as draining as this one had been.
"Sherlock," John scolded his partner, who was now looking back at him sheepishly. The sincerely apologetic look on his face was enough to make John dismiss the reprimanding he was about to give him. "That's it," he sighed. "It's decided; both of us are going to sleep right now," John resolved, adopting the authoritative tone he always had to use when telling his detective what to do. Sherlock whined in protest, but his blogger simply gave him a look before reaching over to turn off the lamp on the nightstand.
"Come here." Sherlock opened his arms wide, inviting his partner to cuddle with him again, and how could the blogger resist? He happily obliged, turning onto his other side so that his back was against his detective's chest, the way they usually fell asleep. Sherlock tightened his grip around his boyfriend's compact body and subtly breathed in the aroma that could only ever be labeled as John. Ever since the two became more that just partners in crime-solving, their scents had started to merge. But there were still some notes that were still the distinctive scent of John's favorite tea, or the smell of Sherlock's secret cigarettes. Sherlock knew John's scent anywhere, and if he was being completely honest, it was just enough to give Sherlock a—
"Ahem," John interrupted Sherlock's thoughts, clearly amused. It was then, and only then, that the world's only consulting detective noticed that he was (to put it lightly) standing at attention.
"Shit."
"I am amused," John teased. Sherlock, however, wasn't exactly finding much humor in this. His usual pallor was turning a very saturated shade of red.
"S'not funny," he grumbled. But he simply pulled his blogger even closer and choose to ignore his current… problem. "Goodnight, John."
John twisted around to kiss his detective full on the lips. "Goodnight, boner."
"It's not funny, John!"