John was exhausted by the time they returned to their B&B. Once they entered their room, he went into the bathroom almost immediately and quickly got ready for bed, leaving his clothes on the back of the chair by the window, having decided to sort them out in the morning. Sherlock was in the bathroom when John finally crawled into his bed. Once again, he set the alarm on his phone and was just closing his eyes when he became aware of Sherlock re-entering the room and standing very still. He opened his eyes and found Sherlock staring at him with a rather bizarre expression on his face. John felt a smile spread across his face as he realised what Sherlock wanted. Opening his arms, he said, "Come on then."

Sherlock grinned and settled down in the bed beside him, resting his head on John's chest. John loosely knotted his fingers into Sherlock's dark curls as the other man tentatively slid a hand around his waist.

"So are we a couple now then?" John blurted out, unable to refrain from asking the question that had been at the forefront of his mind all day any longer.

Beside him, Sherlock shifted and propped himself up on an elbow. "Is that what you want?" he asked.

John nodded slowly. "Do you want it as well?"

"I never thought I would, and I think that if it were anyone else I still wouldn't. But it's you, and so I think that yes, I would rather like to be in a relationship with you."

John felt his heart swell with delight at Sherlock's words and moved down in the bed so that they were lying face to face. He tenderly pressed his lips against Sherlock's, eager to show him how much his words had meant. He felt Sherlock smile against him and shivered in surprise as his hands slipped up under John's shirt to rest on the toned muscles of his back. Sherlock pressed his body closer to John's, his kisses suddenly becoming more urgent; desperate even. John briefly wondered how he had gotten so good at kissing if he really didn't have any experience, but the thought was only fleeting, as he was immersed once again with the taste, smell and feeling of Sherlock.

John felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness, not quite awake, but not quite asleep either, his mind a melange of mismatched thoughts. Even through the fog of his semi-conscious state, he could tell that it was early morning – probably about 3 or 4am judging from the distinct lack of light filtering through his eyelids. He was aware of an unusual amount of warmth behind him, and the weight of an arm draped really quite protectively over his waist. He vaguely remembered the dream he had had a few nights ago; the dream that had prompted this entire scenario. Except this time it was real, and Sherlock really was sharing his bed with him. It was his hand splayed out on John's hip, his leg pressing against the back of John's, his body heat that was radiating from his body and warming John seemingly from the inside out.

Sherlock shifted, resting his forehead between John's shoulder blades. John leant back against him as he felt the welcoming blackness of sleep claim him again.

Sherlock woke up to John's alarm going off. His brain still sleep-addled, he reached over John's still-sleeping form and quickly turned it off, reluctant to get up. He didn't care if they over-slept: the restaurant wasn't going anywhere, and Rebecca surely had plenty of other things to do that didn't involve himself of John.

John.

Sherlock looked down at him, still blissfully asleep in his arms. How his heart ached at the unexpected thought of John ever leaving him. It didn't bear thinking about. Sherlock lay back down in the bed and kissed John on the cheek. Closing his eyes, he settled back into the pillows, and John rolled over into his arms. I could get used to this, he thought.

Time passed with the languid pace of John's easy breaths. Sherlock must have fallen asleep again, he realised, as the next thing he was aware of was his phone ringing and someone banging on the door. He looked at his phone and saw that it was half past eight and that he had two missed calls from Lestrade.

Unwillingly getting out of bed, he stole across the room to the door and opened it. Lestrade was leaning against the doorframe.

"Answer your bloody phone, would you?" he said.

"I was asleep."

"It's half past eight. Shouldn't you have been up ages ago?" He shook his head despairingly. "Never mind, it doesn't matter anyway. Rebecca phoned me this morning saying not to come in at nine because she's been called into a meeting with some other DI's so she's not available." Lestrade peered past Sherlock into the room. "Were you actually planning to get up at all?"

"We both accidentally slept through the alarm," Sherlock lied. He abruptly realised that Lestrade had noticed the fact that Sherlock's single bed had blatantly not been in slept in last night. "It's not what it looks like."

Lestrade's eyebrows practically shot up into his hair. "I'm not going to ask you to explain but…are you sleeping together?"

"In the sense that we shared a bed last night, yes."

"Oh so you weren't…" Lestrade trailed off, not wanting to finish his train of thought. "Are you a couple then?"

Sherlock nodded his head briefly.

"Can I come in?"

Sherlock stepped back to let him into the room and then moved over to the kettle to make a cup of tea. John was still in bed, but he had pulled the duvet up over his head, so Sherlock assumed that he was awake. Lestrade sat down in the chair by the window while Sherlock waited for the kettle to boil. Lestrade declined the offer of tea, so Sherlock made a mug for himself and John. When he was done, he moved over to the bed and rubbed John gently on the shoulder.

"John, wake up. I've made you tea and Lestrade's here." Sherlock dutifully ignored Lestrade.

John emerged from the duvet and sat up, looking anxiously between Sherlock and Lestrade, but taking the mug of tea.

"Oh don't worry about me," said Lestrade, waving his hand dismissively. "Everyone at the Yard has been thinking that you two have been…together for ages now."

John almost choked on his tea but stifled it. "So I heard that we're not going to meet Rebecca at nine?"

"No," Lestrade agreed. "She's going to call me when she's free, and we can go in then, but otherwise we're free to do what we want for the day. Do you have any plans?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Not particularly." He glanced over at John who shook his head, although there was a hint of deep desire nestling behind his warm brown eyes, unnoticeable to anyone but Sherlock.

Lestrade pointedly cleared his throat, breaking the look between Sherlock and John. "Well, I'm going to head over to Torquay and have a look around. I'll leave you two to it." There was a suggestive tone in his words which made Sherlock's lips twitch in a small smile. Lestrade left the room and Sherlock moved closer to John, placing his mug of tea on the bedside cabinet.

"You could have been a little more subtle," said John, mimicking his action.

"Sorry." Sherlock's lips twitched again. "Are you okay? Did you sleep alright?"

"Fine. You're surprisingly affectionate in your sleep."

"Ah." Sherlock grimaced and John laughed, stretching up to plant a soft kiss on Sherlock's cheek.