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It was cold. They were nearly an hour walk from home, it was just after midnight so the Tube wasn't running, and they had no money. And it was cold. John scowled as they walked.
Sherlock was aware that he was a moody person, but that didn't stop him from getting annoyed when John got irritable over stupid things like the cold.
"It's cold," he complained.
"Yes, I noticed," Sherlock said, trying to be patient.
"We are an hour from home."
"You say that like it's my fault."
"Cold. Not home," he said shortly.
"I didn't make it cold and I didn't make you come along," he snapped.
"You did too," he snapped back.
"I did not, four years ago I just asked if you wanted to see some more trouble and you were like-" he put on a high pitched voice- "'Oh God yes' and since then you've assumed I drag you everywhere whether you want to go or not!"
"You're awful and I can't stand you," he yelled maturely and crossed his arms.
Sherlock gritted his teeth. "Fine." He turned around and stomped in another direction. It would get him home slower.
"Hey!" He followed after him. "You can't just abandon me!"
"Go straight for another hour until you recognize where you are, then you're almost home," he snapped over his shoulder.
"No," he said, following several feet behind him.
"Following me," he pointed out. "And note that I didn't demand it."
"Shut it."
Sherlock huffed.
John scowled at his back.
Sherlock kept striding, using the pace that he knew John couldn't keep up with because of their height difference.
John had to practically jog to keep up. "Slow down!"
He kept going.
"Sherlock!"
"John," he snarked back.
"Fine! I'll just stay here all night!"
"All you have to do is go in a straight line!"
John stopped and leaned against a building. "No," he called after him.
Sherlock wanted to keep going. He really, really did. But he couldn't, dammit. He stomped back to John.
John stiffly lifted his chin to meet his eyes.
Sherlock just glared at him.
John glared back.
Sherlock was not going to lose the glaring contest.
John crossed his arms.
John had been an army captain but Sherlock was arguably insane.
They stood there for a while.
Sherlock wasn't backing down.
"Are we going home?" John snapped eventually.
He pointed without looking. "That way. Straight. One hour."
John didn't move.
Sherlock huffed.
John huffed back.
Sherlock tried to convince himself to just go.
John checked his phone, as if bored.
That allowed Sherlock to turn on his heels again and resume the stomping.
John didn't follow.
Sherlock managed to make it a whole block before he turned around and stormed back to John, teeth grit.
John watched him coolly.
"You're making me crazy," Sherlock said through his teeth.
"Hm?"
"You. Are. Making. Me. Crazy!"
John rolled his eyes.
"Ug!" Sherlock stomped off in a different direction this time, and he didn't return right away.
John still did not move.
Sherlock stomped back, scowl coming to his face when he saw John. "Come."
"I'm not a dog."
"Fine, then don't come to the warm hotel room I just got us because you're a child who can't stand being chilly!"
John stood there a moment more before pushing off the wall, still scowling.
Sherlock walked quite a bit ahead of him, in order to not be close to him, then entered the hotel. He did have to wait at the lift, because John didn't know the room number or have a key. They stood in prickly silence in the lift.
John silently followed Sherlock to the door and waited for him to open it.
It took Sherlock three tries because the card reader didn't respond to violent swipes.
John scowled at the door.
Finally, Sherlock got it open and flew into it to put more space between them, not that there was much space in a hotel room. John closed the door behind himself and stood there.
Sherlock stood on the other side of the room, fuming.
"Do you want the bed?" John snapped.
"No."
"You got us the room so it's your bed."
"I don't want it!"
"Well I don't either!"
"Well then we'll just stand here all night!"
"Fine!"
Sherlock leaned against the wall and prepared to do so.
John did too.
Sherlock wondered if John could actually do it. He didn't think so, but sometimes John could be surprising.
A very slow hour passed.
Sherlock stared at John.
John ignored him.
Sherlock could stare at John for ten hours. No problem.
Another slow hour passed. It was nearing three in the morning, and John was getting tired.
Sherlock was wide awake, because 3AM was no different to him than noon.
Soon, another half hour had passed, and John was starting to sag a bit. Sherlock didn't miss this, obviously. He simply sighed and shifted his feet before going back to leaning.
John ignored him, blinking quickly to keep his eyes open. He shook himself and leaned straighter.
Sherlock watched, wondering if John would be able to fall asleep standing up.
Slowly, it turned to four. John stumbled and nearly fell over.
Sherlock frowned slightly.
John forced himself upright and back against the wall.
Sherlock sighed in a rush.
John didn't look him, because he was focusing on not blinking.
Sherlock walked over to him, wrapped his arms around him, and tipped them both over onto the bed.
"No," he protested, though it came out more of a mumble. "Ignoring bed."
Sherlock scooted them around until they were under the covers and their heads were on pillows, not letting go of John.
"But mad."
"Still love you though," he said crankily. "We can finish fighting in the morning."
"Love you," he mumbled.
Sherlock kissed his forehead roughly, then curled up with him to sleep.
Being curled up with Sherlock was familiar, and he was tired, so he kind of forgot he was angry. "Don't want fight."
"Just sleep for now," he sighed. "It was a stupid fight." He kissed him again, less angry.
"M'sorry." He tried to kiss him, though he wasn't sure where the kiss ended up.
It ended up on his ear. "Me too, my love." He kissed blindly back.
"Sorry," he said again.
"It's okay."
"Don't fight morning."
"Alright."
He nodded, satisfied.
Sherlock huffed a small, tired, laugh and nuzzled into his hair. "Goodnight."
"Night. Love," he said.
"Love," he agreed, and then he dozed off.
John was already gone.