Work Text:
When the sun rises on 221B, it rises upon a very giggly engaged couple. Hardly calmed from the excitement of their new status, neither John nor Sherlock can come up with anything better to do than spend the day in bed—and in each other’s arms. Of course, with Christmas around the corner, there’s little else to occupy their time anyway. Certainly, they could make themselves busy with gift wrapping or decorating or preparing for the Christmas party they agreed to host for some of their closest friends, but those sound much less interesting than exploring the affection the other offers.
“Do you think that other people ever get to be this happy?” Sherlock murmurs, tracing small circles across John’s chest. Snuggled into John’s shoulder, the detective can’t imagine a more comfortable place than this.
“Is that what you are?” John whispers, “Are you happy?”
Sherlock’s fingers stop moving when he processes John’s question, and he peeks his blue eyes upwards to find John smirking at him. “Of course I’m happy,” he replies, frowning. “Why would you say that?”
“I just want to hear it,” John answers, turning onto his side to wrap Sherlock in a tighter embrace. “I just want to know that I make you happy.”
When the sun sets on 221B, it sets on a very sleepy engaged couple. Hardly concerned with gift wrapping or decorating or preparing for any parties, it’s easy to find reasons to stay in bed together. Of course, the day was broken with occasional trips to the kitchen. Somehow, there was always tea to be found there, and simple things like finger sandwiches with cucumber on fancy trays. Each time, these things were carried back into the bedroom on tip-toe, and consumed between hushed giggles.
They didn’t notice Mrs. Hudson on the couch because they weren’t looking. It isn’t until Sherlock extricates himself one last time to relieve himself that he sees the landlady sitting in the living room, smiling at him with an easy expression. The telly is on but not loud enough for Sherlock to hear it; he only knows because of the dancing light across Mrs. Hudson’s face.
“John,” he calls over his shoulder, his velvety voice full of emotions he doesn’t have words to identify. “Will you help me bring the mattress out here and get some extra blankets? Let’s sleep in the living room, tonight.”
Mrs. Hudson smiles again and happy tears spring to her eyes like so many sugarplums. She excuses herself to retrieve a pair of pajamas and makes herself comfortable in the blankets the boys setup on the couch when she returns. With tea, treats, and good company, there are few places any of them would rather be than together.
John and Sherlock share the bed and Mrs. Hudson makes a point of waking up several times throughout the night to gaze lovingly at her boys. She hates to compare them to sons, because that makes it rather odd that they’d be together. But of course, it’s always been that, hasn’t it? They’ve always been together and they’ve always been meant to be.