Work Text:
He really should get up and do something.
Mmm, but no, that means moving, and it’s so cozy warm under here. Maybe in a little while…
Has someone turned up the gravity instead of the furnace? No, wait, that’s not how physics works. Right? Hmm, he’ll have to look it up in his Mind Palace.
Later.
Right now, his mind is blissfully quiet.
This happens remarkably often under this blanket, come to think of it. Has Mrs. Hudson laced it with a sedative somehow? No, she wouldn’t do that. Her “brownies” may be suspect, but her knitting is sacred.
But she had put something in it. What’d she said? “Love in every stitch.” A ridiculous notion, scientifically — love is not a substance, so how can it be spun into yarn? Fanciful.
And yet…
And yet he has other blankets of objectively the same weight and material, and none of them feels quite as warm, and certainly none has this gloriously peaceful dampening effect on the otherwise nonstop chatter in his brain. No other blanket makes the sofa even more appealing than his microscope.
Microscope — maybe that would reveal what she’s woven into this creation?
But maybe not just yet. For now, he’s perfectly content to stay snuggled up here, wrapped in Mrs. Hudson’s affection made manifest in this magnificent blue blanket.