John let himself into the flat with a gusty sigh. He'd been out for the weekend, glad to be back at Baker Street. He was exhausted, thankful that the flat was quiet because that meant Sherlock was asleep, and John wanted to get to bed himself. A nice, hot shower, and then bed.
The flat was dark and quiet - maybe Sherlock had known he was coming and had decided to make use of his occasional heart - and John stifled a yawn. Maybe a quick, hot shower; he needed to sleep.
John ran his fingers through his hair, heading down the hallway.
He was halfway down the hallway when he tripped. Over something.
"Woah!" He scrabbled for purchase on something, anything, but there was only open air in front of him and bare walls; he went down like a sack of potatoes, landing hard.
"Owww..." The lumpy something on the ground was talking now and, going by the deep, sleepy, baritone-
"Sherlock!" John hissed, sitting up. "What the hell are you doing?"
Sherlock shifted around, his arm sprawling out and hitting John on the knee. "... Sleepin'..." he mumbled.
"Sherlock." John grabbed his wrist. "Hey!"
"Mmmppffghhmm..."
"That's nice," John said dryly, flinging Sherlock's arm back towards his body. "But why are you sleeping on the hallway floor?"
Sherlock yawned, curling his arm over his chest. His fingers curled into his shirt; through adjusting eyes, John could see it was the same one he had been wearing two days ago when John had left.
"Sherlock! Did you get dressed at all the entire time I was gone?"
Sherlock yawned again. "Don't know why it's important."
"You need to change your clothes! And you need to go to bed!"
"... I thought you went out," Sherlock mumbled.
"That was two days ago, Sherlock, come on. Get up." John hauled himself back to his feet, rubbing at his elbow. "Sherlock."
"... I'll just sleep here," Sherlock mumbled.
"Come on. Sherlock. Please? I'm really not in the mood right now."
"Go to bed," Sherlock muttered.
"Sherlock," John repeated sternly.
All he got was a snore in response.
John huffed and stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Fine. If Sherlock wanted to sleep there, then... fine.
If he stepped on his toes on the way up to his bedroom later, he wouldn't be sorry.
... He wouldn't.
And then John steps on his fingers after Sherlock sprawls out across the hallway and they both end up not going to bed, Sherlock having been rudely awaken by having his fingers stepped on, John trying to play doctor, until they both end up falling asleep in their chairs where they sleep until morning.
xD I do not own Sherlock. Thanks for reading!