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Thunder rumbled loudly outside, rain whipped against the window and bursts of lightning lit up the bedroom briefly before fizzling out and leaving the room once again in darkness. John stirred in his sleep and snuggled deeper into the crevice between Sherlock's torso and the soft sheets. It was early morning but Sherlock was awake, lying on his back, listening to the loud rain coming down in sheets and being thrown around by the wind. The booming of thunder soothed his mind rather than troubled it, the natural sounds of an angry storm. The rage didn't slow down, the sun slowly made its way over the horizon behind thick clouds which hid the rays of light wanting to break through. Rain was still falling in buckets and flying like wind around crackling lightning.

John slept a little restlessly, but Sherlock didn't mind it. Since the sun was blocked, the only way to tell time was an alarm clock resting on the desk. Time crept on, Sherlock's assumption that school was canceled was confirmed by the lack of Mrs. Holmes knocking on his door to wake him up at the appropriate time. Around a half hour after school would've started, John stirred awake, moving up to rest his head on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock looked down at him thoughtfully and smiled. "Morning," he said in a low voice. John, still half asleep, mumbled a response, "what time is it?" "Doesn't matter, school's cancelled." John was now made aware of the steady rainfall and low rumbling of thunder. He hummed and snuggled closer to Sherlock's warm form.

They lay for another ten minutes, content with listening to the steady breathing of the other, then Sherlock suggested they get some breakfast after he heard he growl of John's stomach. John reluctantly rolled away from Sherlock and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Not bothering to change out of their rumpled clothes or comb their tousled hair. The smell of scrambled eggs and bacon wafted along the kitchen hallway which drew the boys in like a mouse to cheese. "Have a good sleep?" She asked, while flipping a piece of bacon. "Great sleep, yeah." John happily grinned which Sherlock mirrored the expression and resumed his own seat at the table. He seemed completely unfazed despite his lack of sleep.

Mrs. Holmes set out two plates in front of them, then muttered something about going to her room for a bit. Left alone in the kitchen, John looked up to find Sherlock looking at him thoughtfully. John blushed and ate his very nice breakfast. Sherlock slowly made his way through half of the food on his plate, then put it on the counter. John, who had finished a while ago, followed suit. Then they walked into the sitting room, quiet, empty and fairly dark except for the glowing embers in the fireplace. After switching on the light, Sherlock proceeded to drop to his knees in front of the cabinet and rummage through the shelves to find a suitable movie. He selected a couple, 'Jumanji', 'the Hunger Games', and 'A series of unfortunate events.' Why they were all depressing movies Sherlock did not know, but he liked them and that was it.

John, having not seen any of the movies laid out for him, randomly selected 'the hunger games.' He'd heard most about it. John stood in the middle of the room, unsure of where to sit. After Sherlock turned the TV on and put in the disk, he shyly walked up to John and slipped his hands around his waist. John leaned into the touch and Sherlock kissed his head, then Sherlock took John by the hand and led him over to the couch. They sat close, sides brushing, and Sherlock's arm draped on the top of the couch behind John. The opening was just beginning to play when the door handle jiggled and the door burst open. Sherlock shot up, ready to fight but relaxed when two young male figures sauntered in. Splashing rain and rumbling thunder echoed in the house until the door slammed shut behind them and the sound was dimmed to a distant roar.

"Mycroft… wha?" Sherlock stuttered, recovering from shock. Mycroft was panting slightly, trying to act sophisticated despite the rain dripping down his face and soaked clothing. The other was politely removing his shoes. He was a handsome guy, with a leather jacket, deep set of brown eyes, dark hair that swished slightly when his tilted his head. "Brother, this is my… friend… Gregory. He was stuck at Scotland Yard in his office all night because of the storm and I thought it well to bring him here until it passes." Mycroft stated, straightening his back. "There's no need to lie Mycroft. It was very nice of you to bring your 'friend' round." Both John and Greg watched the brothers silently. "Yes well I'm sure your own 'friend' thought your sleeping arrangement quite nice as well." Mycroft countered. "I'd continue bantering if my boyfriend and I didn't have something to get back to." Sherlock sneered and gestured at the TV. "Right." Mycroft grabbed his 'friend's' hand and pulled him into the kitchen.

"Sorry" Sherlock looked down at the floor, embarrassed. "No, no its okay, it's... Fine." John stood up and grabbed both of Sherlock's hands, tugging him onto the couch. Sherlock ended up wrapped around John like a warm blanket and as the movie progressed John sunk deeper and deeper into the others' chest. About halfway in, Mycroft and Greg walked in. "Mind if we join?" Mycroft asked, to which Sherlock grunted in response. Mycroft took it as a 'whatever' and sat down with his partner on the neighboring couch, curling up together in a position not dissimilar to the younger ones.

The movie played along with the steady storm still strong outside, the credits rolled but neither couple wanted to move. It wasn't until a loud crash outside commenced that anything changed. The room splurged into darkness, only faintly lit by the bit of sun getting through thick clouds and occasional strikes of lightning. The soft glow of embers had long since fizzled out. The TV shut off with a 'bleep' and the despite the short amount of time between, Sherlock could already feel the warmth of the room slipping through his fingers.