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Title: I seem to have acquired a curly-haired blanket
Author: timberwolfoz
Rated: PG at most
Disclaimer: Not mine: ACD’s and the Beeb’s
Summary: a bit of Sunday morning schmoop. Set in an amorphous time post-Reichenbach. Not beta’d. (Mind you, I wouldn’t go crook if someone offered.)

It was the waking up with him he most loved, John reflected.

He’d never admit it to anyone but Sherlock – who was showing signs of the same issue by the way he’d find any excuse to cross the room and randomly touch/hug/kiss John (according to location and appropriateness) – but he still had the paralysing fear that it was all a dream and he’d wake up with a lump in his throat and a feeling of utter devastation lodged somewhere between his chest and his gut.

However, sharing a bed with Sherlock, there was instant, ongoing reassurance that he was there.

If he’d allowed himself to speculate what it would be like to share a bed with Sherlock, he would have expected that the man would be all knees and elbows, icy cold, and would hold himself aloof from any touch, as offended as a cat treated to a spray from a squirt bottle.

Not the case at all.

Sherlock (and how he’d never figured it out after having spent way too much time chasing around after the man through London’s coldest crime scenes, John could only put down to wilful oblivion) was warm. Very, very warm. In fact, he exuded heat, to the point that John would never, ever need a hot water bottle or an electric blanket ever, ever again and what they’d do if he ever hauled Sherlock off on a holiday to somewhere warm, John did not know.

He was also cuddly. Very cuddly. To the point where John constantly woke up to find 6’ of consulting detective wrapped around him, and on the rare occasions when he’d crawled into bed after Sherlock – and even more rarely found him asleep – Sherlock would hitch himself across the bed and attach himself like a limpet to John without even waking up.

He was also affectionate. Oh, when he was awake, there were slow, lazy kisses and snuggles and hair stroking and similar, but more than once John had stirred awake to find Sherlock’s fingers interlacing with his or stroking the soft skin of his hip while his breath was slow with sleep in his ear.

And as for their non-sleeping activities? Well, sometimes it was a slow, affectionate snuggly session – nature’s sleeping pill. And sometimes, well, suffice it to say that the song ‘Boom, boom boom shake the room’ could have been written for them. (After one particularly notable session Mrs Hudson had pointedly presented them with a bill for earplugs and their neighbours were giving them looks.)

And as for the less savoury aspects of sharing a bed with your partner? Well, Sherlock and John had been living together as flatmates for eighteen months, so the sight (and smell) of either of them trailing around bleary eyed, unshaven and less than fragrant was not unknown. And the issue of the more unmentionable noises had been sorted over what John had mentally dubbed The Lethal But Utterly Delicious Cabbage Rolls. And the advantages were such that this, and the odd elbow knock, toenail rake and bout of insomnia was well worth it.

To the point that John now greeted the day with a broad grin and Sherlock with a contented smile, and a less-than-tactful acquaintance who had declared, “You can’t sleep together, surely? God, you must sleep separately, you’d never cope,” had been honestly surprised at twin incredulous looks, followed by a burst of derisive laughter.

Honestly, John thought, this new relationship was worth it just for the waking up together.

But, my God, the bonuses on top of that were brilliant.


( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
Mar. 4th, 2012 12:57 am (UTC)
Adorable. :)
Mar. 4th, 2012 01:29 am (UTC)
Aren't they just?
Mar. 4th, 2012 07:05 am (UTC)
Awwww! ♥
Mar. 4th, 2012 07:34 am (UTC)
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )


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