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It was after a particularly difficult case when Sherlock and John trooped into 221B. They had been running on an unhealthy amount of caffeine (John) and spite (Sherlock) for a week. John yawned, his eyes blurring for a second.
Sherlock yawned and John tiredly smiled at his bestfriend? Partner? He wasn’t sure. He climbed the stairs to his room and changed into his night-clothes. John came downstairs and saw a sight that would stick with him for years to come.
Sherlock had managed to remove his shoes and coat and then fell onto the couch. John stifled a grin and made his way over the fast-asleep detective.
“Sherlock? You gotta get changed.”
“Ngn.”
John swore his heart melted. Sighing affectionately, he somehow managed to scoot Sherlock over so John could sit on the couch.
John felt his eyelids getting heavy and was startled awake when Sherlock scooted up until his head was pressed on John’s belly.
He started combing his hand through Sherlock’s hair and started when he heard Sherlock sleepily mumble.
“Go’ thleep..”
He stares in tired astonishment before he yawns, tears springing to the corners of his eyes
Sherlock ignores him, predictably and continues mumbling about something.
John falls asleep with an armful of sleepy detective and a fond smile on his face.
Martha Hudson comes up later to give the boys some food and pauses when she enters the room. Sherlock and John are curled up together on the sofa, and well, if Martha smiled and left, that was nobody’s buisness but her own.