Chapter 4
Hours later, John awoke to find himself wrapped in the duvet, wearing his discarded pants and
one of Sherlock's t-shirts. To say he was tired would be an understatement. His limbs felt weighted down. The interior of his skull felt as though it was stuffed with cotton, to say nothing of the discomfort in his nether regions . He prayed silently that, in the event of a fire, smoke inhalation would kill him quickly, because he was never leaving this bed. That was, before his stomach growled. Thankfully, John did not have to contemplate leaving the surprisingly plush confines of Sherlock's mattress, as its owner soon came in balancing a tray of food in his arms. Setting it down with his trademark grace, Sherlock crawled in under the covers. John moved to make room for the detective. John ate quietly as Sherlock studies him. When he was finished, he turned to look at Sherlock. Memories from last night flooding his mind. Tryng to think of something to say to explain how he was feeling, he smiled shyly. What words could he employ to express his relief that Sherlock was giving him his full attention? How could he voice his concern that Sherlock would retreat into himself again, leaving John alone once more? Thankfully, Sherlock understood his expression. He smiled nostalgically, moving in to brush his nose along John's cheekbone, lips glancing over his left ear.
"It's all fine, John. I'm not going anywhere."
John turned to look at him suspiciously. Sherlock just smiled tentatively.
"I'm as much yours as you are mine, John." The way Sherlock said his name, sending shivers down John's spine. "There's really no explanation for the terrible way I've acted lately. The easy answer is that I wasn't convinced that you were willing to submit to me. I see now that it was my fault that you were so unsure of me. I'm balls at aftercare, I never realized how important it was until last night. Will you forgive me?"
John sighed and relaxed into the pillows behind him. "Of course I do, you git."
Kissing John softly as he reached to move the empty tray as he scooted under the covers to lie softly atop John. Pillowing his head on John's chest, Sherlock took a deep breath, inhaling John. The musky scent of stale sweat complemented the warm, sleepy aroma of the bed in which John was cocooned. As far as mornings after went, this one was quickly becoming Sherlock's favorite.
"Now. I realize you must be tired after last night, but perhaps you'd like a shower?" Seeing John's sudden look of apprehension, Sherlock chuckled softly into his collarbone. "I also imagine you are quite sore, John. Should you chose to bathe, I promise to be on my best behavior, despite your appealing state of undress." John smiled at this as he stretched as he climbed stiffly out of bed.
After his shower, John considered heading back to his own bed for some more rest, but Sherlock's absence from the lounge made him suspicious. Sneaking back across the flat and into the detective's room, John was met with a surprising sight. Peering around the doorframe, John saw a slight dip in the covers and the very top of Sherlock's unruly curls poking up above the covers. The detective was fast asleep in the very spot John had vacated not 20 minutes previously. Acting impulsively, John slipped in beside his lover. Wrapping one arm under Sherlock's arm and across his chest, John buried his face in Sherlock's hair, sighing contentedly. There would be plenty of time to sort everything out later. For now, John was thankful for the opportunity to listen to the slow, easy rhythm of their synchronized breathing as he slipped easily back to sleep.
A/N: That's not all folks! I'll be starting Book 3 VERY soon, so stay tuned. This is just the beginning.
Special dedication to Skyfullofstars for giving me a little nudge this morning. Sometimes you need a little bit of shove in the right direction. Thanks you, my dear!