Work Text:
John came home from work to see Sherlock curled up on the sofa, asleep. Usually, he was working on a case, or playing his violin, but the latest case had him working for three days straight, barely stopping to breathe, let alone sleep. He hadn’t even solved it yet, but apparently, he couldn’t keep himself awake any longer.
John smiled at the rumpled heap. Even though his break-neck speed worried him at times, at least Sherlock’s body knew when to quit. He would be annoyed when he woke up, but at least he would be rested. After retrieving an unused blanket from his bedroom he covered Sherlock, and went to bed himself.
In the morning, Sherlock was up and working on the case. He didn’t mention the previous night, but the blanket was now folded and placed in a corner of the sofa.
∞
It was a Saturday, so John did not have to work, but he still woke up early in the morning. Internal clocks are difficult to fool. He sat up and stretched, reveling in the sun spilling in through his window. It was November, and guaranteed to be cold, so any bit of warmth was greatly appreciated.
He headed downstairs for a morning cuppa to find Sherlock on the sofa watching telly. John did a double take on the way to the kitchen to be sure he had seen that correctly.
“What are you doing?”
Sherlock huffed, and replied “Watching television. Obviously.”
“Yes, I can see that, but why?”
“Bored.”
“What, shooting up the wall doesn’t do it for you anymore?” While John was glad Sherlock hadn’t resorted to that particular form of entertainment, it was still odd to find him doing something so, well, human.
“Mrs. Hudson has informed me that, should any further injury fall on her wall, she will get Mycroft to intervene on her behalf. I’d rather avoid that, so I have resorted to the menial occupation of ‘watching crap telly’, as you would put it.”
“Well, we can’t risk a visit from your big brother; that would be just awful.”
Sherlock huffed in indignation, and resumed sulking on the sofa.
Once he finished making tea, John carried two cups out to the lounge. He set one in front of Sherlock. He rarely drank them, but John was ingrained with politeness, and if he was going to make some for himself, he was going to make some for Sherlock.
Companionable silence fell as they both sat and watched television, John with his tea, and Sherlock remaining unmoved on the sofa. Some story about a missing celebrity was being told, and Sherlock rolled his eyes at it.
“Obviously, they’re just hiding to gain the attention of the press. How can they not see that?”
“How the hell do you know that?”
“Their spouse was interviewed, and he clearly wasn’t torn up about it at all. He was involved in the scheme, and is just biding her time.”
“I don’t know he looked pretty worried to me.”
“He was faking. He avoided eye contact with both the interviewer and the camera, his hands never stopped moving, and his reactions were delayed. All signs of lying.”
“That’s amazing.”
Sherlock looked away from the TV to John and flashed a grin at him.
“I simply observed.”
After a while, John began to realise that the room was colder than usual. He got up to check the thermostat, only to find that it was turned off. He turned and asked Sherlock why.
“It’s broken,” was his response.
“Broken? Just like that? How?”
“It was the result of an experiment.”
“How the… Do I even want to know?”
“Probably not.”
John huffed in frustration and sat back down. Sherlock glanced at him, noticing that John was a bit more upset about the heating than he had expected. A moment’s deliberation and Sherlock leaned over to the end of the sofa, picked up the blanket that had set up permanent residence there, and silently held it out to John.
John glanced up at him and at the look of sincerity on Sherlock’s face. This must be his way of apologizing for breaking it. He gave Sherlock a smile and a “Thanks” as he took the blanket from him.
∞
John comes downstairs to find Sherlock wrapped in the blanket on the sofa. He nearly giggled out loud at how adorable he looked like that. Sherlock gave him a laugh at me and I’ll kill you look, so John just hurried off to make tea.
“In my defence, the heating is still broken and, contrary to popular belief, I do, in fact, happen to be human and get cold sometimes.”
It was foggy outside, and it really was quite cold inside.
“Actually, you might have the right idea.” John turns to the stairs, planning on retrieving a blanket of his own from his room.
“Nonsense. We can simply share this one. There’s no reason not to, there’s plenty of it.”
“Seriously?”
“Why not? It’s cold, and our combined body heat will warm each other up far better than simply a blanket anyway.”
John could not find any reason to turn down this idea.
“Alright, why not?”
John brings tea into the room and sets it on the table as Sherlock lifts up a side of the blanket for John. He settles himself on the sofa next to Sherlock, and he was definitely right about that body heat thing; he’s instantly warm and sinks into the blanket and huddles next to Sherlock.
∞
The next time Sherlock is off a case, they both wordlessly sit together under the blanket. It has become a regular occurrence, and neither has mentioned it.
Neither of the two moves as they watch television, until Sherlock shifts closer to John and rests his head on his shoulder. John smiles, and wordlessly rests his cheek against the abundant curls atop Sherlock’s head.