A/N: Uh. It's really early. I'm not really thinking straight. So. If this story is in any way choppy or something, uh... blame fatigue, I guess. I was up all night roleplaying and arose from the slumbering pits of hell with a strange urge to write, so... yeahh.
Word Count: 290+
Pairing(s): John/Sherlock
Warning(s): shameless fluff
Only Vaguely
"I can't sleep."
John cracked open a wary eye, vision bleary from sleep. Sherlock stood at the door, lanky frame leaning awkwardly against the doorframe and not looking certain whether he's welcome or not. John squeezed his eyes shut again, shielding from the light from the hallway.
"Shut the door behind you," he grumbled. Sherlock did, and it wasn't long before Sherlock was under the blankets with him, cold feet pressed against his warm ones. John wants to complain but finds that he doesn't have the heart. "You never sleep," John said blearily. "Why concerned tonight?"
"Oh, I'm not," Sherlock said. John frowned sleepily as Sherlock wiggled closer to him, somehow curling his body in a fashion that he could tuck his face against the smaller man's neck. "I don't need to sleep. I like this, though."
"Oh." John lay limp for a while, considering this through the haze of sleep, and then muttered, "People will talk."
"No more than they already do, John." Sherlock's arms slid around John's waist and he sighed, content. "I don't mind."
John smiled vaguely. "I'm not gay," he said.
"I know, John."
"I like women. They're nice."
"I know, John."
John nodded, seeming content with this response, and wrapped his arms around Sherlock to draw him closer. Through the haze of sleep he was aware that he was acting contradictory to his own argument but couldn't find the energy to care.
"You're really…" John mused, "You're really…"
Sherlock sighed. "I'm what, John?"
"You're really pretty. Really pretty, Sherlock."
Sherlock's eyebrows arched. "You're really, really tired, John. Sleep."
"Sleep," John agreed.
John awoke in the morning tangled in detective and feeling vaguely homosexual. Seeing Sherlock's sleeping face pressed against his shoulder, John finds that he doesn't actually care.