"Sherlock, do you want any tea?" John asked from the kitchen, knowing the answer before the detective gave it.
"No, John, I don't want any tea," came the reply from the living room. Sherlock had picked up a new journal that morning and he'd been immersing himself in it ever since, finding things in it to disprove, or to confirm later. Upon getting back to the flat Sherlock had retreated briefly to his room in order to change into pajamas before settling down comfortably with his back against the couch and his legs spread across the floor in a pile of limbs while he read.
John had immediately seen how cold Sherlock was, despite the fact that he'd never admit it, and had draped a blanket over the detective before going to make himself some tea. He poured two steaming mugs despite Sherlock's iterated desires and made them up like they each liked it. After disposing of the tealeaves, he carried the mugs in and sat on the floor next to Sherlock.
"Here," John said, passing Sherlock his mug. Sherlock gave a rare smile and set down his book so that he could accept the warm cup. John stole a corner of the blanket, nestling into it and taking a sip of his tea. They sat in silence for a bit, taking sips of their drink and not really doing anything but enjoying the feeling of being warm and comfortably indoors while the snow came down outside the windows. When the tea was gone, neither of them particularly had a desire to move.
John set his mug aside and leaned his head gently on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock smiled again and wrapped his arm around John's waist, pulling him close against the detective's chest. John fell into a lovely half-sleeping state as Sherlock's chest rose and fell beneath his head. When he felt Sherlock's lips brush gently across his temple, he rose from the sleepy warmth and kissed him back gently. Sherlock pulled away, and pressed a soft kiss to John's forehead.
"Go back to sleep love." John nodded sleepily and dozed back off, wrapped in warmth and Sherlock.