Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I know its been two weeks but I've got a really bad case of writers block. And just to warn you, this is a really shit chapter. like, I'm talking 650 words, kind of shit chapter. But in my defence...writers block? Not buying it? Okay. But I feel bad for not updating in forever so here, take your 650 words you little shits.

-J-

John slowly woke from his sleep with a pounding headache. He made a move to rollover when he realized he wasn't in his bed, and there was an arm wrapped around him.

Okay, who was it this week? John thought feeling guilty. He wasn't looking for a relationship and all these poor girls probably expect to start dating after what was only a one night thing for John.

John started to slowly squirm around to see who it was. After a lot of twisting around, he was facing the girl he was lying beside. John tilted his head up so he could see who it was and - no. Johns eyes widened in a panic. Lying beside him, with an arm wrapped around him was none other than Sherlock Holmes. John quickly looked down and sighed with relief, clothes. Oh how he loved clothes. He slowly started to wriggle free from Sherlocks, surprisingly strong, grip when it suddenly tightened, pulling a wide-eyed John into Sherlocks chest.

John closed his eyes and groaned in defeat. Well I guess I'll just stay here then. He thought to himself, annoyed. He heard a snicker from behind him and a soft "oi! Shut up! You'll wake them up." And his eyes shot open.

He looked over his shoulder and saw Greg and Mycroft laughing at the situation John had found himself in.

"Hey!" He whispered, trying to get their attention.

Greg's head turned from Mycroft to John at the sound of his voice.

"Oh hey John. You enjoying yourself?"

John narrowed his eyes at his friend.

"You're a right git, you know that?"

"I know." Greg smirked before walking away, with Mycroft not far behind.

"Hey, hey wait! Help me!" John called desperately.

"Sorry dude, you're on your own!" Greg called over his shoulder before walking out of the common room.

"I'm going to kill him." John muttered angrily.

John squirmed around in Sherlocks grasp, trying in a desperate attempt to free himself. He huffed in annoyance as he placed both hands on Sherlocks chest, and pushed backwards, hoping Sherlock would let go. He didn't.

I didn't even know he slept. Of course he's a deep sleeper. I'm so dead when he wakes up. What was Mycroft doing in here? Greg, that little fucker. I'm going to get him back for this. At least Sherlocks a good kisser. And he's warm. Isn't there class today? Shit. I'm screwed. Why is he so strong? How? He's so small. Maybe Molly will help me. Wait, bad idea, no. You know, normal people don't get themselves into situations like this Watson. You can't just snog your best friend like that. What if people know- Johns train of thought was suddenly cut off when he heard Sherlock speak.

"John." He mumbled.

Johns eyes went wide. He can't wake up now! I'm still stuck here! John thought frantically.

Sherlock suddenly let out a tired sigh and snuggled further into John, who was still lying there, petrified that his friend would wake up at any moment.

Does he talk in his sleep? John wondered with a bit of a smirk.

John looked down at the younger boy, and had to resist the urge to wrap his arms around him. Instead, he just sighed and ran a hand across Sherlocks cheekbone and up to his hair. John ran his hand over the top of his friends head, and Sherlock leaned further into John in contentment. John did this until he heard a soft snore coming from the younger boy. John suppressed a laugh when Sherlock suddenly rolled over, letting go of John, who promptly fell to the floor with a soft thud.

"Oomph" John quickly stood and started to back away from the sleeping boy. John slowly stood up and dusted himself off before making a beeline for the door.

Maybe he won't remember anything. John tried to convince himself.

God, why is it always me!?