Feel.

Chapter 5.

Hi guys.

So, yes, I started typing this as soon as I posted the previous chapter, which is why it's only taken me a few weeks, not a few months to get it out to you.

Waking up next to Sherlock was John's favourite part of the day. On the rare occasion that Sherlock considered before 1am a suitable bedtime, if he went to bed at all, that is, they would curl up next to each other in the detective's bed, smothered in the darkness of London. Five days out of seven, however, John would make his way up to his own room by himself at around 11.30 pm and fall into restless sleep there. There had not been a morning, however, in the three weeks since the Chalk Farm case, that he did not wake with Sherlock wrapped around him like an overgrown teddy bear. For all that Sherlock kept to himself during waking hours, he was remarkably clingy in his sleep. He would use John as a full body pillow, resting his head on his chest rather than a pillow, and curling arms and legs around the rest of him.

Now that the British Army was no longer dictating when John got out of bed in the morning, it was a guilty pleasure of his to see how long past 6.30 am he could keep Sherlock relaxed and in bed in the morning. Sherlock is beautiful in the early hours, with the soft beams of sunlight filtering through the gaps in John's curtains highlighting his zygomatic arches and the hollows of his closed eyes. His eyelashes are longer than any John has ever seen on a man, and they rest against the pale skin of his cheeks as he dreams. The fluttering of said lashes makes John aware of the fact that Sherlock is waking, and a groan comes from his beautiful, full lips.

"Stop staring" the detective mumbles, nudging John's collarbone with his chin and tightening the arm draped over his chest, never once opening those startling eyes of his.

"You're too lovely not to stare at" John replies, dipping his head to drop a kiss against Sherlock's brow, tangling his fingers into his wildly curly hair. John loved Sherlock's hair in the morning, his movement in his sleep was a failsafe way of messing up the curls to such an extent that they became almost untameable and very, very thick. One of John's new favourite things to do was to lie just like this, Sherlock's face pillowed on his chest, with his hands in his morning bed head, simply taking his time working out the tangles with his fingertips. It was a sure fire way to keep Sherlock in bed for an extra hour, too, so that was a bonus.

John smiled at Sherlock's sleepy face and brought up his other hand so that both were on the detective's head, rubbing gently at his skull.

"Hmmm" came the assent from Sherlock, and John grinned in triumph before strengthening his movements and starting the untangling at the place where Sherlock's forehead became his hair.

All in all, John managed to stretch it out to about 45 minutes, and by the time he finally removed his hands from Sherlock's hair and rested them on his shoulder blades, the detective was almost asleep again. John smiled again and closed his own eyes, it was Sunday morning after all, and he may as well catch another hour or so of sleep himself while he had the chance and Sherlock was quiet.

"You're lovely too, you know."

John nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard this a minute or so later. He opened his eyes and tilted his neck down to see Sherlock staring at him, those strange blue – green – grey eyes boring into him.

"Hmmm?" he asked, lifting a hand to run a thumb over the line of Sherlock's cheekbone. The detective blinked up at him, smiling lazily as John's thumb moved to graze over his eyebrow before coming to rest again just under his eye. Sherlock moved his own hand up to wrap around the back of John's neck, thumb flickering over his adams apple and the hollow at the bottom of his throat before stopping at the crest of his chin.

"I said, you're quite lovely too, you know." Sherlock answered, and John could feel the skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiled widely at Sherlock's words. It was even more endearing when he thought about how much Sherlock hated repeating himself in any way. In his view, if you couldn't be bothered to listen the first time he said something, then you weren't worth him repeating it. John dipped his head, pulling Sherlock up for a short kiss.

"Morning, Sherlock" he spoke against his lips, just resting there for some time.

"Morning, John."

"Sleep well?"

Sherlock had just opened his mouth to speak when the chime of his phone sounded from his trousers, neatly folded on the chair in John's bedroom. He closed his mouth, nodded and pecked John on the lips before rising from John's bed, making his way over to his clothes and taking his phone from his pocket.

"Lestrade. Needs us to give statements." Sherlock stated, retaking his place in John's bed, phone in hand. He curled up against John, draping himself across his chest and typing out a reply one handed. "I told him we'd be there in an hour or so."

"An hour?"

"I thought we could shower first"

New Scotland Yard was bustling with energy when they walked through the doors at just past 9am, bypassing the reception desk and heading straight to the wall of lifts. Sherlock pressed the call button and almost immediately the doors in front of them opened smoothly. John rolled his eyes as he followed Sherlock inside. First taxi's, now lifts. Was anything not under Sherlock's command? They alighted on the sixth floor and turned left, making their way through the maze of corridors to Lestrade's office. Sherlock didn't even bother knocking, just barged in as if he owned the place when they reached the right door.

"You wanted to see us" he stated, taking a seat in front of Lestrade's desk. John stood behind Sherlock's chair, arms crossed and rolling his eyes at Sherlock's behaviour.

"Sherlock, John" the Detective Inspector nodded to them, adding. "Do come in won't you, make yourselves comfy."

John laughed at Lestrade's sarcasm, but Sherlock merely rolled his eyes, tapping his fingertips impatiently on the edge of the desk.

The statement giving was boring, as usual, and soon, they were back in the lift and heading down to the ground floor. Sherlock crowded into John as the lift filled up in front of them, slipping his hand into John's jacket pocket. John looked over at Sherlock and saw him, head bowed, looking away, slightly unsure of himself, and moved his own hand into his pocket, gripping Sherlock's tightly.

"Hey" John spoke when the lift had cleared out on the second floor and they had started moving again, tipping Sherlock's head to meet his own and pecking him on the lips.

"Hey" The detective replied, smiling lightly and pulling John down for another quick kiss just as the lift doors dinged open.

"Home?" John asked, leading Sherlock out of the lift and toward the main doors of New Scotland Yard. "We can watch that new Jonathan Creek and you can figure out how it was done in the first few minutes and tease me about it. You know how you love that."

"Sounds lovely"

So yes, I do imagine Sherlock and John curled up on the settee together and watching detective shows.

So that's it, it's over. It was never meant to be a big thing, just a small exploration.

Thanks for reading, folks.