Author's Note: Here is the next chapter! I hope that you enjoy it. As always, thanks for reading this story and feel free to leave a comment after you have read this chapter!
He ran a hand through Sherlock's hair one more time before backing away. He bent over the suitcase and took out their toothbrushes and toothpaste. Sherlock groaned behind him, knowing that this meant that he actually had to get up, too.
"Can't we just order room service, John?" He asked, watching his lover pass him to go to the bathroom.
"Would you like to?"
He nodded.
"You know that we will have to leave the room at some point though, correct? We did travel all the way over here for a reason, after all."
Sherlock sighed. Why did John act like he was a child sometimes? He concentrated on that question for a second before realizing that he did act like a kid sometimes. Not that he would ever admit that to John, though. No. If he did, John would be much too happy about that admission.
"I know, John. I just don't feel like going downstairs. Could we please order room service?"
"Fine, we can order room service. But you have to eat something."
"Of course. I remember our agreement."
John smiled and headed into the bathroom, still determined to brush his teeth. It felt like he hadn't brushed them in ages. Sherlock, on the other hand, bounced on the bed, waiting for his partner to return so they could order food.
About a half an hour later, John and Sherlock were curled up on the bed, watching a movie. Sherlock was sitting slightly behind John, allowing the smaller man to lean against him. Sherlock's arm was wrapped around John's waist, pulling him closer to him. John could definitely get used to this. He wasn't a big "cuddler" but for some reason, he enjoyed cuddling with Sherlock. Maybe it was because they were constantly running around London, never really taking a break to enjoy each other's company. Lately, they had a ton of time off, but that was only because of the wedding. John knew that once they got back, after their honeymoon, the cases would resume, and he and Sherlock would be running around London like crazy people.
Sherlock kissed John's hair. John smiled and leaned back against the detective. Sherlock opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off when someone knocked on their door. Room service. He groaned when John got off of the bed and headed towards the door.
"I could've gotten that," Sherlock said.
John shook his head as he opened the door. He paid the food runner, and pulled the cart into the room. He wheeled it towards Sherlock until it was right next to the detective. He got to his knees and crawled over towards cart. John grinned and got back onto the bed, eager to dig into the food. Each of them had gotten crepes for breakfast. Some fruit came on the side, but Sherlock didn't want to touch it. He didn't like eating fruit.
"Come on, just try the strawberries." John said, glancing from the fruit to Sherlock's face.
"But why? You know that I am not a big fan of fruit, John."
"Because it is good for you. Please, Sherlock?"
Sherlock sighed.
"Fine."
John speared a strawberry with his fork and held it in front of Sherlock's mouth. Smiling, Sherlock leaned forward and took the piece off of the force. He ate it and sighed.
"Better?"
John smiled as he leaned over and kissed his cheek.
"Thank you for eating that for me, Sherlock. That really means a lot to me."
Over the last few months, John had been trying to make Sherlock eat better. And by "better", John meant making him eat healthier. While Sherlock was in shape, he wasn't exactly the most healthy individual that John had ever come across. When he ate, he ate whatever he wanted, which was good, but he didn't always pick the most healthy option. Most of the time John had to remind him to eat some vegetables or fruit.
"You're welcome, John." Sherlock said, spearing another piece of fruit with his fork. He shoved it into his mouth, his gaze on John. John smiled and nodded.
"See? Is that so difficult?" John asked, taking a bite of his crepe. He grinned; the crepe seemed to literally melt in his mouth.
"No, John, it was not that difficult." Sherlock said, pouting slightly. He shifted so his stomach was against the bed.
Sherlock cut his crepe and ate it; he hummed happily and took several more bites. He hadn't tasted a crepe like this one before. It seemed like the chefs had gone to culinary school that just focused on this particular food.