John must have fallen asleep, because he opened his eyes to a shadowy room and a fully dressed Sherlock, leaning casually against the wall.
Well.
As casually as a man could while starring down at his naked and thoroughly debauched blogger.
John smiled lazily, before grimacing at the cricket in his neck at the papery sensation of his tongue.
"Water's on the night stand."
He nodded, stretching his arms out before sitting up and ruffling his fingers through his hair.
He fumbled for the glass, taking a long sip before finally regarding his detective.
Sherlock had showered, his curls were still slightly damp in the dim light.
He'd changed into a purple shirt that was so incredibly tight that it looked about to burst.
John chuckled slightly, his voice still rough with sleep.
"Is that your old shirt?"
The detective nodded.
"I'm surprised that you can even get the damn thing buttoned. Did you have to use a coat hanger?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Are you complaining?"
The former doctor shook his head.
"Not at all."
The detective pushed himself from the wall.
"Clean up. We've got half an hour until we need to meet Mrs. Hudson."
The man nodded, standing and stretching, his hand rubbing the knot in his neck tiredly.
"I'll fix that after you get ready."
The former doctor went to nod, thought against it, and headed into the small bathroom.
He was quick in his getting ready, a short shower to remove the grime and a small touch of styling.
He laughed at the outfit that Sherlock had chosen for him, but put it on anyway.
As he stepped into the living room, dressed in his lumpy and extremely over sized oatmeal jumper, the detective burst into a grin.
"Oh god, that looks dreadful. Go change into something that's not-"
He looked away, laughter bubbling in his chest.
John strode back and forth, the too-long sleeves flapping pas this hands.
"You sure you don't want me wearing this then? It hides a lot."
The detective shook his head.
"You look like a child that's wearing his fathers clothing. Now hurry, I don't want to see Mrs. Hudson's face if we are late."
John rolled his eyes, quickly scavenging through his closet for his next-smallest suit.
Sherlock followed, helping his blogger button his shirt and fixing his tie.
"All set?"
The former doctor sighed., pointing to his feet and wiggling his toes.
Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Plus you still haven't fixed my neck."
The detective slid behind the doctor, warm hands kneading the muscle.
Not a word was said save for the soft moans John made as his muscles relaxed, the knots melting away.
Sherlock sighed, forcing himself to will away the reaction his body was having to those sounds.
He stepped away, earning him a sigh from his doctor.
"Why'd you stop for?"
The detective spun around, already backing out of the door.
"We are going to be late if you don't hurry."
John snorted, following his detective into the living room, where his shoes were set out, waiting.
"What do you even care fr anyway? Not once have I ever seen you so damn determined to be punctual. I mean seriously."
Sherlock shrugged, though his features said it all.
Jaw hard, neck muscles twitching slightly.
Nervous.
Fingers fidgeting, eyes flitting back and forth.
Very nervous.
Almost-
"You're afraid to disappoint her, aren't you?"
The detective scoffed.
"What? No. Of course not. Why on earth would I care what she thinks? She's just my landlady."
John nodded, humming as he tugged on his shoes.
"Then why are you blushing?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Shut up Watson."
The former doctor shrugged, pushing himself up from his chair before turning to double check his appearance in the mirror.
He caught sight of Sherlock, and nodded at him, earning another eye roll.
"Ready then?"
Another nod.
"Did she ever-"
"Yoo-hoo, boys!"
The sound of heels clicking on wood filled the room as she entered.
"God I'll never get used to saying that again."
She grinned, looking at both of their confused faces.
"Are you two dears ready?"
John frowned, his eyebrows knitting together.
"You said you would-"
"Call and tell you, I know I did, but I also know you lot."
She pointed at them, a smile breaking at the corner f her stern expression.
"I give you a time and a place and you don't show up at all. So I figured I'd take you my self."
Sherlock smirked at John, who had broken into a full fledged grin.
"Well then-"
John stuck out his arm invitingly.
"Shall we?"
She giggled, elbowing him lightly in the ribs before linking arms with him.
Sherlock latched the door and followed the pair down the steps, a warm smile splitting his features.