John finally managed to coax Sherlock away from his experiment long enough to put on a movie, pulling out all the stops when he did. "It's a tradition, Sherlock, c'mon! Harry and I always watched it as kids, and you've never seen it. Please just watch a bit of it?" Sherlock had relented after much begging and the offer of a free pass to put whatever he wanted in the refrigerator, which John was certain he would live to regret. When they finally settled onto the sofa, Sherlock immediately sprawled out so his head was lying in John's lap and his feet were propped on the opposite armrest. John only smiled, and carded his fingers gently through the detective's hair.
Sherlock was always entertaining to watch movies with, provided you didn't mind having the ending ruined and the actors mocked mercilessly. It kept John well entertained, giving an old film new life. Every so often Sherlock would fall silent, drowsing off in John's lap, as slowly the flat darkened around them. When the movie finally ended and the credits rolled, Sherlock was completely asleep in John's lap.
The doctor smiled, shifting slightly so he could lie alongside his detective. With his spare hand he dragged a blanket over them both. John wrapped his arms protectively around Sherlock, keeping the detective close against his chest so he could hear their hearts beating in tandem.
Of course, at some point in the night Sherlock must have woken up, because when morning came, John was nestled next to him in the detective's spacious –and infinitely more comfortable than the couch- bed. Sherlock nuzzled closer to him, refusing to let John out from under the blankets. "Five more minutes," he muttered, and John humored him. Whatever the day had could wait.