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John was sitting on his chair, when the door of 221b flung open and one excited but exhausted consulting detective came through.
"Hello John,"
He hadn't slept in a week, John knew that because he had missed the comfort of cuddling his lover. Every damn night John had been alone. The only thing that stopped John from being grumpy about it was him discovering Sherlock in the weirdest places in the morning, asleep, and as soon as John started to snicker a bit, the genius startled awake and pretended that he wasn't under the kitchen table or in the bathtub.
"I solved it! It was easy in the end, well for me. Lestrade didn't seem to get it..."
He had dark bags under his eyes and his cheekbones looked even sharper than normally. Of course he hadn't eaten either, John thought. He had shoved some biscuits and pieces of bread into Sherlocks mouth sometime everyday, but that was not nearly enough. The detective didn't move, only shedding his coat, he was expecting John to answer.
"Of course you have, I knew you would. Why don't you go shower while I order some takeaway?"
Shower, yes because he hadn't done that either, well not the amount one would usually shower. But nothing about Sherlock Holmes is usual right?
"Mmm"
And with that he went for the bathroom. John grabbed his phone and a menu from that pasta place two streets away and ordered lasagna twice.
While John waited for Sherlock and the food, he started to hear a low rumble from outside. The weather had been dark that day, clouds hanging deep over London with occasional rain. John took his phone and googled the weather forecast. A big thunderstorm was approaching, he'd probably have been warned if he had been able to watch telly. But that was no option because Sherlock broke it during his latest experiment.
Sherlock came out of the shower, and shortly after, the doorbell rang. John paid for the lasagna and put it on plates. When the consulting detective emerged from their shared bedroom, the table was set up for two. John was already sitting on one side. Sherlock looked gorgeous, John thought, his blue robe hanging from his shoulders so elegantly. John signalled him to sit and so he did.
Sherlock told John all about the case while they ate, not missing one tiny detail and John smiled and told him that he's amazing and that he shouldn't forget to eat while talking.
After a long case Sherlock would never miss the chance to tell John about it (if he wasn't with him) but John also knew that after a high comes a low and that that's what they're approaching now. Of course it's not the first time and John knows exactly how to handle this.
The thunderstorm got louder and louder. John counted the seconds and was pretty sure that it couldn't be far away, Sherlock knew better and told him that it was exactly 500 metres away.
5 minutes and one once again clean kitchen later, 221b was suddenly plunged into darkness. Power breakdown.
John wanted to make tea, then sit on the couch with Sherlock, but he couldn't make tea now that he didn't have any power to start the kettle.
Sherlock was playing his violin. It went perfectly with the thunderstorm and the rain, like a sweet symphony of darkness.
John decided on wine instead of tea. Maybe it'll help to get the git to sleep, he thought. He also lit up some candles.
He placed the two glasses on the couch table got a few blankets and told Sherlock to come over. Which he did, after carefully laying his violin down. He arranged himself on the couch sitting, but half laying, under a blanket but on John. He stuck his head in the crook of Johns neck and gave him some tiny kisses. John picked up their glasses and handed one to his genius.
They drank in silence, dreaming a bit, kissing, listening to the thunderstorm.
After a while John could see that Sherlock was slowly falling asleep. He nudged him a bit.
"Come on love, you must be so tired, let's go to bed. There are criminals waiting for you tomorrow."
He didn't mean that. Sherlock was not going to take a case the next day, John wouldn't allow it. They would cuddle some more, maybe watch some mov... oh right, maybe call a technician to fix the tv and rest and Sherlock would love it without admitting it.
"I know... They're all so stupid, getting caught and stuff." Sherlock slurred, clearly almost asleep.
John half dragged Sherlock into their bedroom and onto the sheets. Leaving him for only a minute to blow out the candles. He then took the blue robe off of Sherlock and arranged both of them under the blankets. They fell asleep almost immediately.
And that's the way it is, that's the way it's always going to be, and none of them would change any of it.