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It had been a long day. John was exhausted as he dragged himself up the 17 steps to the flat. Dinner would definitely have to be a takeaway – he didn’t have the energy to cook. It was strange how a day of doing his actual, normal job could wear him out far more than chasing criminals with Sherlock ever had.
He stepped into the sitting room and shrugged off his jacket. It was very quiet.
“Sherlock, you in?” he called out.
“Bedroom,” came the reply.
After toeing off his shoes, John headed for the bedroom. Sherlock lay on his back in their bed, blowing bubbles at the ceiling from a wand. John couldn’t help the fond smile that twitched at his lips.
“Hi,” Sherlock said, flicking his eyes across to look at John.
“Hey, you,” John murmured as he settled himself at Sherlock’s side, wrapping an arm around his waist.
“Hard day?” Sherlock asked as though he hadn’t read all the indicators in John’s appearance.
“Mm,” John affirmed. “What’s all this about?”
“Bubbles, John. They’re very interesting mathematically. Each one is unique, with a different structure of the soap film.”
“And yet they’re all the same shape.”
Sherlock nodded, then blew a few more bubbles. “A sphere uses the smallest possible surface area to enclose a fixed volume.” Here he paused to catch a couple of the bubbles on the wand. “See how the shape changes when they join together. It’s all about minimising surface area and energy.”
John pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s shoulder through his shirt, marvelling at the way his boyfriend saw the world. “That’s very interesting.”
Sherlock gave a little hum. “Besides,” he mused, “they’re rather beautiful.”
“You’re rather beautiful,” John murmured.
“Flatterer,” Sherlock accused.
“Is it working?”
“A bit.”
They both giggled, and John snuggled closer. Sherlock pressed a soft kiss to John’s temple.
“Do you mind takeaway tonight?” John asked.
“No, that’s fine.”
“Are you hungry yet?”
“Not particularly.”
“Then, could we stay here for a bit? ‘S nice.”
“Of course. Yes.”
John nestled his head against Sherlock’s neck, breathing in his scent. Sherlock screwed the cap back onto the bottle of bubble mixture and laid it aside. He wrapped his arms around John, the fingers of one hand idly playing along John’s spine. Neither knew how long they lay there cuddling, and they didn’t much care.