A/N: As I re-read this chapter to edit, it occurred to me how very "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing" by Aerosmith this chapter is, hence the title. Oh, the fluff. I can't.
The next night, when John again makes a move towards his own bedroom, Sherlock speaks up.
"I'll be waiting in my room when you're finished changing," he says without looking up from the laptop he's currently using.
John sputters for a moment in confusion, "We're continuing?"
Sherlock looks up and gives him his Don't be an idiot look. As he opens his mouth to belittle him, John waves his hand dismissively and turns towards his room once more, "No, forget it. I'll come back."
When John walks in to Sherlock's room, changed and ready for bed, he stops dead in his tracks at the sight he sees.
"Sherlock, you are not videotaping this," he says, crossing his arms over his chest in a mix of anger and embarrassment.
"But how am I supposed to have accurate records for the experiments if we're both asleep during it?"
"I think you're overestimating how much sleep I'm actually getting when we share a bed," John counters defensively, "I'm the one who tells you what happens in the night, in case you've forgotten."
"Yes, but what if things are happening while we're both asleep?"
John is silent as he gathers his courage to vocalize a question he's not entirely certain he wants an answer to, "What the hell do you think is happening? What is this experiment about, Sherlock?"
"Testing to see how each other's presence affects us; discovering our habits."
"And I've told you what your habits are; I already know mine," he says defensively.
"And what is it that you think you do?" Sherlock counters petulantly.
"I talk and laugh in my sleep, and I still have nightmares occasionally," he answers easily.
"That's all?" He asks with a hint of a challenge.
"Yes."
"You're positive there's nothing else?"
"Yes," John states with confidence. He's had plenty of sleep partners in the past who have told him about the sleep talking and laughing, and the nightmares are obvious.
"Would you bet on it?"
There's a nagging feeling at the back of John's mind as he thinks about how long it's been since he's shared a bed with anyone. He knows sleeping patterns and habits are prone to change with age and partner, so "No," he admits quietly to his best friend, he is not willing to bet on it.
"Then the camera stays," Sherlock says with confident finality, pleased with his perception of having won the debate, "Besides, you could be a biased narrator and my results need absolute proof. I can't believe I let even one experiment go without thinking of this."
Instead of fighting further, John pulls back the blankets on his side of the bed (he has a side of Sherlock's bed now. Goddammit, how does he get himself in to these situations?!) and climbs in with a huff, settling on to his back.
Sherlock finishes setting up the camera - and really, where he got his hands on a camcorder is not worth thinking on - and then turns the lights off before settling on his side of the bed, back against the headboard and laptop in his lap.
"Are you going to be on that all night? Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" John taunts tiredly. It was a long day at the surgery, and last night's rest was still not quite enough to negate the sleep he failed to get during their most recent case.
"I'm not tired yet; I don't typically sleep two nights in a row," Sherlock answers, already distracted by the laptop again.
"Then why am I here?" John grumps as he glares at the taller man.
Sherlock looks him in the eye with another Don't be an idiot look, but John has nowhere to escape to this time, so just has to bear it, "For the experiment, John."
"You're going to see how much you can interrupt my sleep if you're awake the entire time versus asleep?" He snarks, extremely displeased at the prospect.
"No," Sherlock stresses, "I'm going to see if my presence affects you in any way, even if I'm not sleeping, and also see if your presence affects my own sense of fatigue."
John closes his eyes and shakes his head, "I can't do this," he mutters before turning on to his right side, his back facing the other man, and attempting to just end the day.
"John?" Sherlock asks, a bit of nervousness in his tone at the thought that John may refuse to continue the experiment.
"Your brain, genius," John elaborates, eyes still resolutely closed in preparation for sleep, "I'm far too tired to deal with your brain right now."
"Oh," Sherlock breathes out in relief, "Goodnight, then, John."
"Goodnight, Sherlock."
—
Sherlock distracts himself on his laptop until John falls asleep, and then can't help as his attention is grabbed by the man. He's not even doing anything, yet he can't look away.
Sherlock shakes his head and consciously breathes for the first time in a long while, bringing himself out of his John-induced trance. He makes a decision to attempt to sleep, so he closes the laptop and places it on the floor beside the bed before moving to lay on his right side, facing John's back.
Watching John's rhythmic breathing was enough to lull him in to sleep last night, but he's just not tired enough for it tonight. He huffs a breath in aggravation knowing that he is bound to lie there listlessly all night.
'No. Focus,' he admonishes himself. He can will himself to sleep, he can.
After what feels like hours of Sherlock trying - and failing - to fall asleep, John turns on to his left side, now facing Sherlock. The other man was just in the process of debating if he should just call it a wash for the night and head to the living room to play his violin instead.
Sherlock freezes, barely breathing, as he watches John's right hand reach out towards him. It comes to rest with the front of his fingers pressed against Sherlock's left forearm, in the unclaimed territory between them. Sherlock searches John's face, but he's still clearly asleep and unaware of the motion that his body has made towards his own. It doesn't mean anything.
Sherlock bites his lower lip as his eyes fall back to where they're connected. He moves his arm away from John's touch slowly before gently, with a quivering hand he would never admit to, lowering his left hand to John's right. He startles slightly as John releases a content hum and moves a bit closer, somehow finding a way to intertwine their fingers in a way that isn't entirely uncomfortable.
This is how Sherlock spends the next significant portion of his life. He doesn't know how long it is and, for once, he really doesn't care. He's absolutely entranced by the emotions that pass over John's face as he dreams, fancying that he could possibly even say what the dream entails simply by watching him. John smiles and quietly chuckles three times, his brow furrows in confusion eight times, and he slowly shuffles closer to Sherlock to the point where Sherlock also has to move to keep their still-entwined hands in a relatively comfortable position.
After awhile, John obviously is growing uncomfortable lying on his left shoulder for so long, so - however unwillingly - Sherlock lets go of his hand and guides him gently to his back. John turns his face away from him and Sherlock is disgruntled to find that he misses looking at his face.
Is this what loving someone feels like? He's never been in love, only theorized it enough to be able to fake it for cases in the past. But, if he had to place a descriptor on his feelings for his best friend, the ache in his chest demands that the word be: besotted.
Great, so he loves a man who has multiple times announced that he isn't gay and has never shown an interest in him whatsoever.
'Hasn't he?' his evil inner voice asks. Because, really, he has. He was clearly interested that first night at Angelo's and numerous other times in the first year and a half that they lived together. Nothing has been the same since Sherlock's return, and he has never seen the same looks in John's eyes as he used to. If anything, his time away opened Sherlock up to admitting how much he cares for John while at the same time John was trying to heal over the loss by pretending he never did.
What a mess he's made of everything.
So here he lies next to the only man he's ever loved and yet will never have, because the truth of the matter is that he doesn't deserve John…especially not after all the things he's put him through. He allows himself exactly one moment to close his eyes and shake his head against the pain at the thought before he rolls over to grab his phone from the night stand.
4:11am.
He knows that he cannot keep laying here and watching John, dealing with his own depressing thoughts on the matter, so he carefully stands from the bed and makes his way to the living room. He takes a quick trip in to the loo before grabbing his violin and returning to the bedroom. He may not be able to sleep with John tonight, but he can use the failure to test out a new experiment idea anyway.
As Sherlock softly plays soothing melodies that he knows John likes, he continues to watch his face to judge how it is affecting John's sleep pattern.
The camera keeps rolling.