He was spread out completely on the couch. God, it was comfortable. The flat was very warm to counter the negative degree weather outside.
He stretched, splaying his limps further as he let out a content sigh. The heater clicked, the fridge rumbled, but the flat was otherwise silent. Silent and warm… and hazy… and… floating…
…
The door slammed open and his head snapped up to look at the door, hand grabbing onto the blue robe he was wearing over his sleeping clothes as his eyes blinked sleepily. His eyes found a bemused look from the man at the door - his flatmate (who, he noted happily, was carrying a plastic bag or two labeled "TESCO".)
"What are you doing?" his flatmate asked in a tone that could nearly be described as offended. He gave him and the bags a sleepy smile and let his head fall back onto the couch. "That's hardly a thank you," his flatmate muttered before stomping into the kitchen.
He turned his face and lazily watched his flatmate put away the perishables before making an odd grunting noise. His flatmate froze, looking towards him.
"Yes?"
"Com'ere," he muttered, blinking slowly and nearly falling asleep as he did. He had a lazy smile on his face when he opened them again. His flatmate walked into the room and stood in front of him, his hands on his hips.
"I thought you were going to go to sleep while I was out. We were up all night because of the case and it's nearly seven in the morning."
"Couldn't fall asleep," he muttered, nearly falling asleep as he said it. His flatmate scoffed.
"John, you're passing out as you're talking to me."
"Sh'lock, Come 'ere," John muttered again, weakly motioning his flatmate over. Sherlock heaved a dramatic sigh and moved forward. John held onto his wrist and blinked hard a few times, trying to wake himself up. "Come 'ere," John whispered.
Sherlock opened his mouth to say something, but simply sighed and weakly tried tugging and twisting his wrist out of John's grip.
"I don't know what you're asking," Sherlock lied, avoiding John's eyes as his other arm swung absently; awkwardly.
"Cuddle," John murmured, opening his eyes again and looking up at Sherlock hazily. "'m tired, 's warm'n cozy, need'a cuddle buddy."
Sherlock hesitated, but gave in and crawled onto the couch when John scooted backwards. Neither of them had slept, Sherlock thought up as an excuse for himself. It was awkward, Sherlock's lanky body at the edge of the couch, feeling like he could fall off at any moment.
"'Doin' it wrong," John grumbled, half pushing himself up and pulling on Sherlock's arm. Sherlock obliged and moved onto the couch further and John half-lied on top of him with his arms around him snugly.
Sherlock stayed there stiffly, not quite knowing what to do with his limbs.
"'Snot snuggling if you're not snugglin' back," John grumbled again, resting his chin on Sherlock's upper chest to glare at him with his eyes closed.
Sherlock couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face at the look on John's face, from the warmth of John's body, and just simply from the whole situation in general. His arms wrapped warmly around John, holding him tight. John smiled at Sherlock with his eyes closed and Sherlock gave a small chuckle as John put his head back down.
Sherlock ran his fingers down John's back in a soothing manner. He rubbed his back gently, he hummed a tune he had heard on the classical radio in the taxi cab on the way back from Tesco. John gave a soft sigh.
"Happy Valentine's Day, John," Sherlock said softly as he kissed the top of his head. John hummed in reply before opening his mouth very slightly to attempt an answer, apparently.
"Never… low… a'yen…" John finally managed. Sherlock held back a snort and continued rubbing John's back soothingly as he hummed a tune his mother taught him until his hand stilled and his voice faded, following John into his dreams.
A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! I had to write some domestic fluff. Sorry! *hearts*