Work Text:
Sherlock sat in their sitting room, baffled by his extraordinary luck. John loved him. He loved him. They had finally said the words, laid bare what the other meant to them, and it was the same.
John had gone to bed hours before, smiling like a loon as he turned towards the stairs and his room. Never in his early life had Sherlock ever believed he could find someone like John. His childhood had been filled with scared looks, twisted sneers and uncomplimentary insults. Not one person outside of his family understood him, and so Sherlock told himself no one ever would, resigned that there was no better days coming.
But how could one predict the best, his John, was yet to come?
That day at Barts, seeing his fate change before his very eyes, Sherlock knew John would be the one. The one he would die for. The one he would love. The one he would begin to live for.
God, when had he become so maudlin.
John was upstairs, probably snoring softly. Maybe he’s still smiling.
Sherlock doesn’t know when he will stop smiling himself.
Having no case to keep him up, nor any pressing experiments, Sherlock couldn’t think of a reason keeping him awake. But should he join John? They hadn’t discussed further than their mutual feelings, shared one small kiss before John was yawning and leaving for bed.
Sherlock changed quietly in his bedroom, glancing at his empty bed before deciding the worst that could happen was John would kick him out.
He hoped that wouldn’t be the case.
Up the stairs, through the door at the top, and Sherlock could just make out John’s figure in the room. Sprawled on his back, one arm above his head, and snoring softly, just as Sherlock had imagined. Sherlock slipped into the bed, careful not to jostle or bounce it too much. He shuffled closer until he was under John’s raised arm and his head was on John’s rising and falling chest.
John didn’t wake, but he brought his arm down around Sherlock’s back, tugging him slightly closer. Sherlock could feel each of John’s exhales ruffling his hair. He has been all around this troubled world, seen and felt so many things, but Sherlock knew this would be his favorite feeling. The most beautiful. Tucked in close to John, warm breath lulling him into closing his eyes and the snores almost like a serenade.
Tomorrow there may be so much to do, more to talk about and work out. But tonight, Sherlock was going to be held by his love and drift in the dreams of all their adventures yet to come.
How long do you want to be loved? Is forever enough, is forever enough…? Cuz I’m never never giving you up…