Work Text:
Many things about Sherlock do not surprise John at all. Sex with Sherlock, for instance: messy, loud, athletic, and often bloody fantastic; he tends to be bossy and demanding in bed. He hasn’t suddenly stopped being prickly and moody, or playing the violin at extremely antisocial hours, or throwing the occasional truly epic wobbly; he hasn’t suddenly caught John’s ability to read social cues. Nor has he started sleeping like a normal person, just because now he’s sleeping with John.
He is, in a word, still Sherlock. And if he’s honest, John wouldn’t wish him otherwise.
What does surprise John is that Sherlock is gratifyingly (sometimes disconcertingly) attentive in bed, that he is generous and often tender; and that, both in bed and elsewhere around the flat (though rarely in public), he is – there’s just no other word for it – cuddly. As if he’s been starved for touch, and now he’s bingeing.
In fact, John can hardly sit on the sofa anymore without finding himself wrapped in affectionate consulting detective. Has Sherlock noticed how much more often he sits on the sofa these days? Well, of course he has: he’s Sherlock.
It’s not actually a very comfortable sofa – it’s here in 221B because Mrs Hudson wanted rid of it – but as far as John’s concerned, no sofa has ever been better.