A/N:This actually finished quite nicely at 221 words on the dot, first time! Result! I hope this means I'm getting better at this.
Blanket.
"Got anything, yet?"
John paused, mid-stir of his tea, when he got no reply.
"Sherlock?" He walked out of the kitchen to where he had last seen the elusive detective, curled up on the sofa in his pajamas and prized blue dressing gown, a case file in his hands, and furious frown creasing his forehead.
He almost laughed at the sight of his flat mate as he walked in, and instantly quieted his movements. The case file was still hovering in his hands, but Sherlock's head was lolling forwards, his eyes half-lidded with sleep. John knew he'd been working himself into the ground with this case: it was a complicated one, and Sherlock had relished in the premise. But evidently the case was even harder than anticipated, and Sherlock's "No sleep until the case is over" rule had been the first defense to fall.
John looked up as Sherlock murmured something in his sleep, and frowned.
"I said to pass me the blanket, John." Sherlock articulated, his impatient tone still intact, even when half asleep.
John rolled his eyes and grabbed the material from the back of the sofa.
Sherlock gave a faint smile, and John thought he may have even heard a "thank you", as Sherlock fell into a proper sleep, wrapped up in the thin grey blanket.
A/N: Drop a review? I love them.
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