Sherlock

My body is heavy and I'm unaware of my absolute surroundings. Recall, Sherlock, recall the night before... Oh. I remember. I exhale softly and turn to my side, the pristine white sheet falling off my body. The movement causes my head to spin. In the moment of disorientation I realize the presence of someone around me. My hands grip into the fitted sheet and I balance myself. Then I see him. I exhale gently.

John is sleeping peacefully beside me and as I watch him the events from the night before come forward and shroud my mind. I let them take hold of me.

John had gotten us into the cab. I remember him leaning over me to buckle me in. I remember thinking to myself that I could easily take care of myself but at the same time I wanted him close to me, and I wanted to touch him. The cabbie dropped us off and John got out first. He paid the man and then stumbled around to the other side of cab, my side, and opened the door. He grabbed my hand and helped me out. The taxi was gone in a flash. John had a tight grip on me though. He tugged me up onto the curb and as he unlocked the door, I remember smiling, thinking to myself what a wonderful man he was. I headed up the two stairs into the bottom level of the flat and trip into John's arms. He catches me. He's strong and he holds me close. "Everything is okay." He whispers to me, his fingers running along the back of my neck. I find my gaze meets his and in this moment of complete vulnerability, I kiss him. His lips are softer than I imagine, and the taste like a strange mix of ale and tea. I don't feel him kiss back, but then he does, and it's something magical, I believe. After a few brief moments, he speaks. "Well, right then." He shuts the front door, dead bolting it in a matter of seconds. He waits for me to pass him, guiding my hand to the railing as he follows close behind making sure I won't fall backward. He shuts the door at the top of the steps and locks it as well. I stand and watch him, "Will you stay with me tonight?" I hear the words escape my mouth before I even think them through. "Are you sure?" He asks me. By this time I've had a little time to think about what I've just offered. This second question makes me think a little bit more. But after a moment or so, I nod, looking at him. "I don't want to be alone tonight." I announce, heading into my bedroom.

John

I can feel him stirring beside me. I let my eyes flutter open and he's facing away from me. Good. I exhale softly and admire him from behind. He's not naked but he's not completely clothed either. The muscles on his shoulders are strong and prominent which is perplexing to me because I never see him workout.

I watch him as he sits still. He's thinking about last night. A small smile works its way to my lips as the memories of the night before wash over me.

"I don't want to be alone tonight." He had said. Plain and simple. But I hesitated in following him into the room. Were we ready for this? Was 'this' even a thing? I was completely unsure whatever was going to happen next, if anything. But now I find my best friend and the man I care about needs my comfort and that is what I should do.

"Just gonna pop up and change." I tell him as I stick my head into his room, catching him in his boxers and undershirt. The sight is unnerving...and very sexy. I clear my throat and decide if that's what he's going to wear it should be okay if I'm in the same thing. I step into the room and begin to strip down, folding my outer clothes diligently. I pile all of my clothes on a chair off to the side. I turn back to face the bed and Sherlock is right there in front of me. He startles me, but he grabs my shoulders to steady me.

"Thank you, John." He whispers as he pulls me into a hug. His chest is strong and warm against mine. After a few moments I pull away.

"Right then, Sherlock, let's make it to bed." I remind him gently. I can't take much more of this. Sherlock has a way of making all of my wildest emotions bubble to the surface. I've not had these emotions for so long. I couldn't find them in any previous relationships, not with Sarah... I shake the sad memory from my head. No use. She wasn't what I needed.

In these few moments of thought Sherlock has slipped into the bed and is looking at me anxiously. I step lightly then, following him. I climb into the unused side of the bed and I pull the covers over my body. I just now realize how dead tired and cold I am. As if he can read my mind, and at this point in our relationship I'm sure he can, he pulls me into his arms, my head resting just beneath his chin. I don't argue, don't push away. I simply close my eyes and let it be.

"Goodnight, John." The soft rasping of his thick voice deters me for a moment.

"Goodnight, Sherlock." I reply as I feel his lips press to my temple.

Sherlock

He's awake, I note, by the sound of his abnormal breathing. When he sleeps his breathing is deep and proper. Now that he's awake, I turn to look at him, slipping my legs back under the cover. I take a moment to examine him. Tired but happy. Not upset. Not as hungover as I am. A small smile twitches my lips. Inquisitive look on his face, he wonders if I remember the I taste of his lips. He's somewhat...uncomfortable, as he's clutching the comforter towards his body.

"Good morning John." I say to him, a small headache pounding in my left temple. His smile makes the pain disappear for a moment.

"'Morning, Sherlock." He replies, voice softly eating away at my heart. Heat fills my cheeks as I'm tempted to lean over and kiss him. But, I don't. I fear as enjoyable as last night was it may have been a mistake

"John, we should probably talk about last night. I find the events that have led us to this morning are complicated and numerous." I pause, trying to choose the next words carefully.

"You're an important aspect to my life, John. I find my life, as you've noticed, is extremely dangerous. It's one thing for you to be a...friend." I see his eyebrows tip upwards with interest. I've never called him a friend.

"People who are friends with me find themselves in more danger than they realize. Should Moriarty ever find out we were ever more... you'd be fair game and I'm not letting that happen, John." I can see the understanding on his face, but it doesn't completely mask the pain.

"Can we at least have today?" He asks softly, sitting up in the bed, looking at me with eyes so pleading. "Can we have today to be everything we will ever want to be? Then...nothing else. I'd die for you, Sherlock, but I can't do that if I'm dead." He states quietly, letting his hand touch my arm.

I think quietly, a blank slate for a face. I swallow and push him down on the bed, climbing on top of him, letting my lips find his neck, and then his chin, and then his own lips. They feel softer now than they did before, more inviting and warm.

His lips feel like home.

John is home.