Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Day 1: Scars
John had always been insecure about his scars on his shoulders, especially around Sherlock. This was perhaps one of the first indicators of John's attraction towards the genius detective. He had once been strolling back to his room when he ran into Sherlock and the other man stared at his scars on his shoulder. John didn't like the calculating gaze on his scars, so from then on he made sure to take his clothes into the bathroom with him and put them on before he exited the bathroom.

John was beside himself with grief when Sherlock had jumped and couldn't move on afterwards; when Sherlock fell, so did his spirit and will to live on. It was during his wait for Sherlock, no, HIS Sherlock, that he realized how debilitating life was without the insufferable prick. He needed his Sherlock like he needed food or water.

He learned how to play Sherlock’s violin in his absence so that whenever that dramatic bustard came back (for John was SURE that he was alive.. well he had to be if he was going to go on living) so that he could hear the lovely sound of his violin again after whatever he went through.

John was currently eating at Angelo's for lunch when he looked up at the window beside him and nearly jumped out of his flesh when he saw the tall silhouette of the man that he had yearned for for what felt like an eternity. John leaped up from his chair faster than any bullet and ran outside to a bemused Sherlock standing outside of the restaurant, John holds Sherlock's cheeks in his hands and gasps when he feels the small amount of warmth pulsing through them. Sherlock's face morphs into a flustered expression, his cheeks flushing red.

John's hands are shaking. Sherlock notices this and holds them, smiling shyly. “Hello, John.” Sherlock breathes out. John only stares at him in disbelief, squeezing, lightly squeezing Sherlock's cheeks, needing confirmation of this. Sherlock relaxes and melts into John's touch, realizing what his John needs (and maybe it felt good to feel John after so long apart) and willingly giving it to him.

“Sh-Sherlock..!” John hugs him tightly and that's when he notices the bruises and scars on Sherlock. “William Sherlock Holmes! What have you done!?” Sherlock flushes in embarrassment at the use of his full name. He looks down at his hands - which are covered in John’s he realizes. “I needed to dismantle Moriarty's network..” Sherlock mutters nervously.

John's eyes widen and he squeezes Sherlock’s hands and afterwards cups his cheeks in his calloused hands. “You bastard.” he tenderly strokes one of Sherlock’s cheeks, “You could have brought me with you.” Sherlock looks exhausted all of a sudden at this. “A sniper would have killed you if I did.” John's breath hitches. “Sherlock..did you do this for me?” Sherlock’s eyes glimmer with a hint of a smile, “You and nobody else.”

John looks at him like a lovesick puppy. “Oh.. my amazing detective.” Sherlock starts to cry from joy, “John.. do you..?” John sighs and traces Sherlock’s lips with his finger. Sherlock flushes up again and smirks and flicks his tongue out to taste John's finger. John looks up at him with a hint of desire in his eyes. “Sherlock.” He sternly warns the other man.

Sherlock kisses John softly, but passionately, a sense of neediness manifesting in the push of his tongue against John's lips. Sherlock places his hands on John's shoulders and he immediately pulls Sherlock away. Sherlock looks shocked. “John.. what's wrong?”

John doesn't respond and just takes Sherlock’s hand and walks quickly towards 221b Baker street. Sherlock can't deduce what is going on for once and it low-key freaks him out a little bit. Sherlock is sat in his chair as John takes off his jacket to reveal a white tank top with slightly muscular arms underneath, but most eye-catching is the big splash of flesh that is scarred. It takes Sherlock’s breath away and he longs to touch it, however he can tell that John is sensitive about it, and he doesn't want to cross a boundary that he can't go back from.

“John, can I… touch it?” John's eyes snap up to Sherlock's in surprise, only to find an emotion he can't quiet place. “Why would you want to? It's hideous and it's a reminder of my failure as a soldier.”

Sherlock’s gaze hardens in defense of John. “Don't say that, John. You're the most amazing, brave man I have ever known. You are not a failure.” Sherlock takes John's hands tenderly into his own, “At least not to me,” Sherlock states softly but with conviction.

John's gaze softens and he guides Sherlock’s hands to his shoulders. “I will pull away if I feel uncomfortable, okay?” Sherlock kisses him briefly, “Okay.” Sherlock starts to trace the scar and he marvels at the muscle underneath it too. “Extraordinary..” Sherlock whispers out loud. John smiles and pulls him in for another kiss and this time he doesn't pull away when Sherlock’s hands go to his shoulders.

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“John! John! John! When are you going to introduce me to your parents?!” Sherlock pesters John as he is trying to write up a recent case they solved only yesterday. John grits his teeth and turns to Sherlock “Darling, my parents aren’t very fond of me.” John looks away. “You would know this if you listened more.”

Sherlock frowns. He feels like he has let down John, and that is the worst feeling he knows. “What a shame. They should see the amazing man their boy has turned into.” Sherlock smiles shyly, and rubs the back of his neck. “But I’m biased.” he murmurs.

John smiles reassuringly, “Hey, you know I love you.” John starts to kiss Sherlock’s unease away. “How I caught your intelligent, beautiful eyes I will never understand, but I will never complain,” John smirks and squeezes Sherlock’s arse. Sherlock whimpers. “I may not have my parents, but I’ll always have the only drug I’ll ever indulge in.” John whispers into Sherlock’s ear tenderly and teases, his hand on Sherlock’s hip sliding slightly more upward.

Sherlock’s hips buck and he can feel himself straining against his trousers. “Th-Then take it.. right now.” Sherlock begs John. John licks his lips and takes off his trousers. He grinds against Sherlock’s cock and Sherlock whines desperately. “Not yet.” John commands.

The next day Sherlock wakes up to find a sleepy John with his mouth slightly open and his hair messy from their activities last night. Sherlock is admiring this sight when he sees a message pop up on John’s phone: ‘Happy birthday, son, can’t wait to see your current girlfriend soon. ..you know what we will do if you don’t show up with a girl. Anyways, have a wonderful birthday, kisses and hugs.’ Sherlock makes a gasping noise that he muffles with his hand and quickly blocks the number named “Mom”.

A minute later John gets the same kind of message from his “Dad” and Sherlock frees John from the pain of blocking both assholes.

“Sherlock..?” Sherlock nearly jumps out of his transportation and quickly puts down John’s phone. Sherlock smiles and kisses his forehead “Happy birthday, sunshine.”

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Sherlock needs to calm down, his breathing is way too fast for the regular human heartbeat. John bursts into the flat a second later with groceries and that makes Sherlock curl into the fetal position.

John can immediately tell that something is off about the detective. He rushes over to his love and places a grounding hand on his shoulder. “Hey.” John whispers, trying to coax Sherlock out of the fetal position.

Sherlock looks up and immediately latches his hands around John’s face to feel if he is real. John smiles and places his hands over Sherlock’s. It's okay, sweetheart, it's me. I'm real.”

To prove this point John kissed Sherlock’s cheeks. The other man relaxes and gets up, joints cracking, and sticks himself to John in a tight hug; his long limbs wrapping around John in a whirlwind of arms and legs.

John laughs, cut off by his stumbling as Sherlock throws himself at the other man. “John..John..John.” Sherlock murmurs as he kisses John's face.

John melts into it and relaxes. “You wanna talk about it?” John whispers gently. Sherlock shakes his head and buries his head against John's chest. “Fall..” Sherlock chokes out.

John engulfs him, hugging Sherlock back and swallowing him in his scent of John's pine deodorant and faint smell of mint.

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John had been gone for weeks. Sherlock thought his John had finally left him, like he feared. He knew it was only for work, however that didn't mean that John didn't decide to distance himself from Sherlock because he couldn't stand him anymore.

Sherlock couldn't stand the thought and had been squeezing his neck for about thirty seconds before he heard the door click open and he heard a gasp as John saw him.

Sherlock Bangs his head into the wall. “Not really, not real.” He murmurs as John's increases his walk into a sprint. “Sherlock!”

Wow.. he was real. Sherlock looks at John's beautifully calloused, rough hands, that were full of gentle presses at the moment. They were placed against his own hand, which were now off his neck and at his sides.

John kisses his forehead. “We need to talk about this.” Sherlock nods meekly and walks over the couch. John's legs are brushing against Sherlock’s legs. Sherlock is twiddling his thumbs and looking anywhere but where John is.

John places a reassuring hand on Sherlock’s thigh. “Whenever you are ready, love.” John softly declares to Sherlock. Sherlock takes a deep breath, then looks over to face John. He is met with soft, eager, eyes that are ready to listen.

“I..I thought you would leave me..” John's eyes widen immediately and Sherlock shrinks into himself “I know I'm too much a-” He is interrupted by John kissing him. John pulls apart after a few seconds “None of that nonsense, Sherlock. Listen to me.” John tilts his head towards his with one hand so that Sherlock is looking at him “I would never leave you.”

John laughs quietly. “You may make me want to pull out my hair sometimes, but I wouldn't have it any other way.” Sherlock smiles and wraps himself against John and buries his face into his chest. “Don't leave me.” Sherlock whispers desperately as he nuzzles his face into John's chest.

John smiles lovingly and kisses Sherlock’s neck. “I know, darling. I won't.”

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Sherlock was doing an experiment and got a deadly disease from it. John luckily found out via symptoms quickly and got Sherlock to the hospital. Muttering all the way there how “‘That would teach Sherlock not to put body parts in the fridge.”’

Sherlock rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue at this ridiculous notion, but John was eventually proven right.

After his discharge from the hospital Sherlock had to relax for a few days, not putting any strain on his mind or legs (which were pretty sore at this point.)

After a few weeks he was all better and was sitting next to John when he nudged Sherlock’s shoulder for a second. He rubs the back of his neck cutely. “Umm.. I don't now if you know this, but..when you were in the hospital on the second day you went to sleep and didn't wake up until twelve pm because.. you had been-” John it cut off by a little sob of his own. “DeAd for a bit of time.” John clenches his hands against his flannel PJ’s, and his voice cracks on the word dead.

“I think that was the final straw for me. ..I can't deny it anymore.” John takes a deep breath and looks Sherlock dead in the eyes. “Sherlock..I'm in love with you.” John immediately looks away, however Sherlock turns his head with his fingers and kisses him with a tenderness only reserved for partners. He pulls away. “I love you too.” They stay snuggled up together - Sherlock the big spoon and John the little spoon - for the rest of the night.

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Sherlock hasn't had a case for three days and John's had it by now, Sherlock has resorted to throwing knives at the wall since John took away his gun from Sherlock.

John was walking towards his chair when a knife whizzed past him so closely that I nearly hit the side of his neck.

John walks furiously over to Sherlock and grabs the knives and throws them into a separate trash bag. Sherlock gasps as this unfolds.

John stalks towards him and grabs his stupid robe. “Listen to me you little shit! There will be no more throwing knives!” John gestures wildly towards the damaged walls of their apartment.

“You're going to cost us a fuck ton of extra money you cock, plus you might kill something!” John sighs and rubs his forehead, feeling a headache already starting to form from the throb in his head.

All of a sudden it hits John like a freight train and he cries out in pain as his headache goes from a light throb to a pounding. The pain brings him to his knees and he clings onto Sherlock’s robe.

Sherlock’s eyes widen like two black holes expanding. “John!” His reflexes kick in and he catches John in his arms as he whines in pain.

“..headache..” John murmurs quietly. Sherlock immediately tries searching his mind palace for headache remedies, but can come up with nothing

He looks down at John. “I'm afraid that I can't help, honey.” John smiles at him through the pain and caresses one of his cheeks. “Do we have any Ibuprofen?" Sherlock brightens up a bit and searches his mind palace and smiles when he comes out. “yes.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Go get them.” Sherlock chuckles lightly “John I got you in my arms, and while I enjoy your warmth and presence, you need to be in a dark room.”

John smirks, “So there is some information in that head of yours about headaches.” Sherlock smirks too “I can drop you, you know.”

John widens his smirk. “But you won't.” Sherlock frowns a bit. “..no I won't. Who's a little shit now?”

John giggles. “Get me to our bedroom.” He waves his hand towards the direction of said room.

Sherlock does as he says and takes care of him for the rest of the night and ends up passed out next to John cuddled up next to him with no blanket on.

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“Jawwwwn!” John turns around to find Sherlock pointing at a box of abandoned kittens. “Oh for shit’s sake Sherlock! We can't have kittens, my aunt is allergic to them!” Sherlock gives John his best puppy eyes.

John sighs in defeat. “Fine, but if it doesn't work out we need to find them homes. Thank goodness there are only three of them.”

Sherlock hugs John and kisses his cheeks and John knows he's made the right choice as he holds an overly appreciative Sherlock against himself.

“You're my miracle. You know that, John?” Sherlock declares sappily.

John laughs and picks up the box of black cats with white paws and he suddenly gets why Sherlock wants them so much when they meow in confusion.

When they get home Sherlock and John set up a space for the kittens and name them “That one,” Sherlock points at one with a long tail, “Will be Benedict and that one,” he points to one with missing ear, “Will be named Martin.” John smirks “And I'll name that one,” he points to one with an umbrella-like patch of white around the cats eye, “Will be called Microsoft.”

They both laugh hysterically at this and by the end of the day end up falling asleep in the kitten room with the kittens around them, also sleeping.

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Jawwwwn!” Sherlock had found something unbelievable; one of John’s jumpers haphazardly hanging near one of his experiments

John ran down from the upstairs, his feet pounding like rocks on the surface of another rock. He was still in his PJs and his longish hair (he had grown it out over the time) was all disheveled and he looked only half awake and groaned. “What is it now, Sherlock? You just woke me up.”

Sherlock flushes a little seeing how cute John looks, but shortly after gets control of himself. “This.. uh.. this jumper is getting in the way of my experiment. You see John, I'm conducting an experiment with how these plants will react in certain environments, and your jumper was not part of said experiment.”

John rolls his eyes and snatches his jumper, however when he leans in to get it, he also leans into Sherlock and gently forces him against the counter.

Sherlock squeaks and wraps his legs around John's waist.

John smirks and laughs deeply. “What do you need, darling?” John asks as one of his hands trails up Sherlock’s thigh.

Sherlock’s breathing quickens. “You!” he gasps/whimpers delightfully in a tone that was practically begging.

“Then you will need to follow my orders, do you understand?” John inquires, his military persona shining through.

Sherlock is panting. ‘Oh fuuuck he's getting hotter every second!’ “Y-Yes!”
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After a very steamy time they where lying in bed and Sherlock was still whimpering, but not from pleasure, from slight pain; John had been too rough and accidentally slammed his legs against the toaster on the counter.

John feels really bad about it and is holding Sherlock until he feels better, because Sherlock would not let him go. “Oh..you're such a drama queen.” John nuzzles his nose into Sherlock’s hair (that smelled like wood and the amazing smelling shampoo that Sherlock would not tell him about ((“‘If you know then it'll ruin the sense of mystery in our relationship.’)) “But you're my drama queen~”

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John's leg had been hurting him for a while and Sherlock had been worried. He didn't say anything to John because he knew John would brush it off and say “‘It's fine, Sherlock.’ and then kiss his forehead so that Sherlock would forget about it long enough for him to get away from the detective before he peppered him with more questions.

So Sherlock had been chewing on his experiment pencil for a few weeks now - a nervous habit of his - and also his foot would bounce more than usual when he was still, indicating that he was either really excited or nervous. And given the current state of John's leg (and the lack of a case) he was nervous out of his mind.

Sherlock's mind spun a million miles per hour like a comet racing down towards the Earth. He knew all of the possibilities of things that could go wrong with John's lately hurting leg. The only saving grace for Sherlock was the fact that that damn cane - which he despised any of its appearances of, for obvious reasons - was the only thing keeping John (albeit loosely) from getting a sprained or broken leg.

John was tired of Sherlock’s coddling, so he decided that he was going to avoid the man until his leg was fine again. Unfortunately, this didn't go well for him.

Sherlock was in the middle of a experiment, thinking more about John than the actual experiment. But this one was a re-do of a past experiment, so it didn't even matter to pay attention, he already had the steps at the front of his mind palace.

He was pouring lemon juice onto a cut up orange when he heard a very loud (and suspiciously John-sounding) thud from John's room.

Sherlock bolted upright, head snapping upward like a dandelion, suddenly and with purpose,however taken over by something. His heart pounded in his chest, a pacing, frantic lion waiting to be freed. His steps thundered in every sense of the word, he could even feel a small - not bad - electric charge under his feet as he ran.

When he finally arrived at the scene of the crime he saw that John had forgotten that damn cane when he walked out of the shower. He was only covered by a blanket now.

Sherlock smirked before steeling himself back to the reality of what he's seeing. He was correct. Perhaps John will listen to him now when he tell him to FUCKING TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF!

He first looked at John's head and quickly assessed that it wasn't a concussion, thank whatever “gods” were listening right now. John had simply taken a fall and been knocked unconscious, not ideal for Sherlock, but it's not the worst either.

“How does a doctor get into the mess?” Sherlock quietly chuckles while bending down to pick up John by his legs and head. Sherlock smiled at him tenderly; he loved how cute John's face was when he was sleeping. His mouth was slightly open and his face looked so free of any pain.

Sherlock quickly set John down onto their bed gently and then walked back into John's room - which he only uses when Sherlock is away on a case or when he wants to avoid Sherlock - to find the cane and viciously grabbed the stupid thing that caused his John hurt.

He went back to the room and placed the cane by their bed.

He then crawled into bed with John and he wrapped his long limbs protectively around John, acting as some sort of odd weighted blanket. ‘This was perfect’ Sherlock thought before feeling himself starting to fall asleep

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Sherlock has Dissociative Identity Disorder (Aka D.I.D.) and was having a bad as he and John had recently been arguing vehemently about something that he can't even remember what they argued about but it triggered a particularly bad alter that hasn't surfaced since The Final Problem. The one that made him smash that coffin.

John was walking down to get a snack when he saw Sherlock sitting down and rapidly firing a gun at the wall behind him, the end of the gun inches from his neck.

John suddenly was stuck with a terror that was dizzying. Sherlock was trying to kill himself. Maybe he meant to not succeed right now, but a few more moments and maybe John would have been staring at his boyfriend’s dead body.

He immediately ran to Sherlock and grabs the gun after he clicks the safety on the gun.

“SHERLOCK HOLMES!” John firmly shouts at him, his military strictness sliding in. Usually that would make Sherlock's blood run south, but he was not in a good enough mental state to even be horny for his wonderful boyfriend.

John shakes his shoulders after putting the gun down out of Sherlock's reach. “You have no idea how absolutely besides myself I would have been if you had died, you absolute cock!!”

Sherlock froze and suddenly he was taken over by one of his littles and he started to cry into John's chest “I-I’m s-sorry w-ww-were'nt th-thinking!”

John freezes. “We?” He asks with a raised eyebrow in curiosity. Sherlock starts hyperventilating, ‘Oh, no, now I've done it.’ John rubs his back gently. “Hey.” He says, his soft and loving voice the only thing keeping Sherlock from spiraling further.

Sherlock swallows. “U-Um.. well.. I have Dissociative Identity Disorder, also known as D.I.D. which means-” John presses a finger to his lips. “I'm a doctor, Sherlock, I know what D.I.D. is, and I need you to know that I still love you. All of you.”

Sherlock lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding and kisses John briefly before pulling away and blushing slightly. “It's just that.. well you know.. everyone thinks that I'm a.. freak..”

John's gaze softens, akin to syrup hitting a waffle. “Hey, my little magnifying glass,” John takes Sherlock’s face in his hands tenderly, “you know that I will love you, no matter what happens.” John smirks as he holds up both of their ring fingers to show their promise rings. “That's what these are for, my silly detective.”

Sherlock smiles. John boops his nose, but then starts kissing those amazing cheekbones “You know.. I could help with your little funk~” Sherlock hums in pleasure, “Oh, god yes.”

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Sherlock?” John asked the head in his lap. Sherlock looks up at him. “Hm?” John sighs, he knows what Sherlock is going to say if he words this wrong.

“Can you please go to the store and get some biscuits? I would go, but my social anxiety is through the roof right now.” Sherlock's faces softens and he kisses John's hand, “Of course, John.” He looks up at John with curious eyes.

“But you are around me with no problem.” John sighs, “We've been over this, Sherlock. You,” John boops his nose, “are the exception to almost everything in my life.” John snuggles up next to Sherlock. “You're my safe place, darling, never forget that.” He places a kiss on Sherlock’s forehead, his eyes closing as he feels John's kiss blanket over him.

“I'm not getting biscuits unless you let me cook today.” Sherlock suddenly declares. John mumbles something along the lines of ‘that stubborn fuck.’ Sherlock smirks. “You want to fuck?~” John blushes hard “N-N-No.” Sherlock has a self celebratory gleam in his eyes.

“But I'll punish you for that later!” John shouts to Sherlock a few minutes later before the man goes out the door.

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Ever since the fall Sherlock has had only one fear: Thanatophobia, Aka the fear of losing John.

After the fall Sherlock had come back to John to find him depressed, but managing. So he knew he had to tread lightly.

So he gave John a note (in disguise) that he would certainly notice was his handwriting, and waited a couple of minutes before revealing to John that he was alive.

He had gotten a punch to the gut, but that was it before John started sobbing and hugging Sherlock.

Sherlock was rather surprised and it took him a few moments to process that John, JOHN! Was hugging him he couldn't believe it and hugged John back, to his own surprise.

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Now they live at 221B Baker St. with their pet cat (cat since Sherlock is allergic to dogs) named Rosie, short for Rosamund, and she was a beautiful white kitten with an almost blond sheen in her fur when the sun hit it.

John had been gone at the grocery store for a long time now, and Sherlock’s Thanatophobia was through the roof. His John must be in danger!

He starts hyperventilating when suddenly he hears the click of the door opening and Rosie starts meowing. It's John. Sherlock rushes towards him and hugs him tightly, nearly choking the poor lad.

“S-Sherlock!” John choked out and Sherlock loosened his grip.

Sherlock flushed in embarrassment. “Sorry..”

John smiles lovingly. “Apology accepted.”

Sherlock was going to bury his face into John's chest, but then the shorter man extracted Sherlock from himself.

“I've got your favvvvvorite.” John informs Sherlock in a sing-song voice.

Sherlock gasps and he eyes light up with a child-like excitement. “Crepes and sushi!!?” John nods, smiling at Sherlock.

Sherlock suddenly starts kissing John, firmly and gently. John goes weak in the knees. “mmmm!” is all he can say with Sherlock’s needy lips on his. He pulls away. “Bedroom. now.” Sherlock starts panting at that tone, the I-was-in-the-military-so-you-will-do-aas-I-say tone.

“Yes, sir.” Sherlock drags them both to the bedroom where John straddles him on the bed and starts grinding against Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock moans, his hips bucking up, needing more. “P-Please, s-sir, f-fuck m-me.”

John chuckles. “What an impatient, greedy man, I will have to punish you.” John smirks as he tears off Sherlock’s and his clothes and aligns his cock against Sherlock’s hole and presses all the way in with no warning. “Ah!~” Sherlock gasps in pain and pleasure.

John starts to roll around and Sherlock whimpers. “You want more?” John growls, suddenly that makes Sherlock’s hole draw in John’s cock further. “Mmhm!” Sherlock nods, looking absolutely ruined with his messy curly hair and biting his lip in restraint and a look of absolute pleasure on his beautiful face.

John almost cums at that, but he steels himself together. Although his cock twitched inside of Sherlock and Sherlock’s tongue rolled out at that. John took this opportunity to start making out with Sherlock, tongues clashing together messily and somehow, oh so hotly. All while Joh. starts to fuck Sherlock.

Sherlock moans into the kisses and cums shortly after, triggering John's.

They lay there for a few minutes, basking in their mess before John got up to clean up the mess, including Sherlock.

“You know, you're one lucky bastard, being pampered like this.” Sherlock grins and kisses John's hand that isn't cleaning. “You know you like it~” Sherlock says teasingly.

John sighs, defeated. “I guess I do.” He sighs out.

Sherlock smirks. “Brat.” John states. “Your brat.” Sherlock corrects with a smirk. John glares at him, but replies, “Yes, I suppose, you're my brat.”

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About a half an hour later they are eating dinner and talking about their day while feeding bits of sushi to Rosie.

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"Sherlock!” John calls out worriedly. “J-John!” Sherlock is sitting in a corner only a footstep away from John's own feet.

“Sherlock! What are you doing?!” John chastises Sherlock. The other man looks up at him shivering, and John can immediately tell that he's sick and cold.

John gasps. “Oh, my poor baby!” He exclaims as he picks up Sherlock’s cold body “mmmm..john..” Sherlock murmurs as he presses himself against John's body, trying to get some heat into his body.

John smiles and strokes Sherlock's curls. “It's okay, I'll get us a blanket.”

Sherlock sighs, his mouth feeling the soft fabric of John's jumper. “You're the best boyfriend ever..”

John smiles sadly at how Sherlock slurs his words “You're delirious.” “Sos’nt mean it's not true.”

John's smile turns warmer. “Let's get you under a nice and soft blanket.” John tells Sherlock as he sits down on the couch and grabs a fluffy, blue blanket from the top of said couch with one hand still on Sherlock’s curly set of locks.

Sherlock lets out a soft sigh of resignation and cuddles up next to John as he slowly drifts into sleep while John gently, and almost reverently, strokes his hair.