"Sherlock."
Sherlock pried his eyes open slightly. His curtains were trying desperately to fulfil their duty by blocking out the sunlight, but they were failing. John was staring down at him.
"What are you doing?" John asked, crossing his arms.
Sherlock blinked once, slowly, and then again, about to open his mouth to respond when he yawned instead. He yawned so wide that it brought tears to his eyes, automatically watering from the deep sleep he'd been immersed in.
"Sleeping," he mumbled, shoving his arms beneath his pillow and curling them up and around the top, pulling it close. "Isn't that a bit obvious?"
John looked like he was trying not to smile, but he sighed instead. "Why are you sleeping at the opposite end of the bed?"
Sherlock stared towards his window, turning his head to press his chin into the pillow instead. He had fallen asleep at the opposite end of the bed, hadn't he? He'd pulled the blankets up from the end, took his pillow down, and curled up under the blankets at the wrong end.
"... Why not?" he asked shortly, yawning again. He rolled over onto his back and stretched, bare toes peeking out from the top of the blankets.
John shook his head. "Anyway, your phone's been going off for the past hour. Lestrade said he's got a lead on the beheading."
Sherlock tilted his head sideways to look at John, his curls falling into his face and tickling his ears. "Oh, good. Tell him we'll be there soon." He stretched again and then kicked the blankets away in one fell swoop, swinging his legs out of bed.
"Yeah, already told him," John muttered.
"Good. Did he- ow!" Sherlock winced as his back cracked when he stood.
John's eyebrows shot up.
Sherlock wrinkled his nose. "Don't say anything," he said, traipsing to the bathroom.
"Maybe if you slept at the right end of your bed..."
"I heard that," Sherlock said, glancing over his shoulder, "and it hardly matters which end I sleep at. It's a rectangle. There's no 'right' or 'wrong' end."
"Well, generally, you put your head at the headboard and your feet-"
"Maybe I'll switch the bed around," Sherlock said, flashing a grin. "Besides, it's comfortable. There's something refreshing about sleeping at the other end." He gripped the door. "Maybe you should try it," he announced, before sliding the door shut.
"And maybe you should act like a normal person..." John muttered.
"I heard that, too!" Sherlock called through the bathroom door. "Normal is overrated. I'll take the opposite end of the bed any day."
The opposite end of the bed is a wonderful place to sleep. Or curled up width-wise instead of length-wise. Or on top of the blankets with just a throw blanket over you. Yeah, okay, I'm a weird sleeper. xD Or just lazy. I'm lazy, too.
I do not own Sherlock. Thanks for your continued support!