It was a few days before New Year's, and the case was now solved. Sherlock was sprawled out on the sofa, a blanket draped over his feet and a fire blazing in the hearth. John was working and, while the flat felt empty without him, Sherlock hadn't felt so content to be alone in ages. Normally he hated being alone, which was why he was usually in such bad moods whenever John returned from work or the shops. But today he was utterly at peace. He fell into a trance, not unlike sleeping, whilst the soothing sounds of Mozart floated around in his head, his expensive noise-cancelling headphones blocking out the sounds of the outside world. He was unaware of how long he'd been out of it until someone began shaking his shoulder to rouse him.
'Huh? Wha?' he mumbled, his arm flailing about as he tried to take his headphones off, his mind muddled from how long he'd been in his trance-like state.
'I asked how long you'd been sleeping,' John said, his small smile making his eyes crinkle.
'Wuzzn't sleepin,' Sherlock mumbled, his tongue heavy in his mouth.
'Sure you weren't,' John said, snickering. 'It's OK to admit you were sleeping. Even the great Sherlock Holmes needs to sleep.'
Sherlock snored loudly in response. John chuckled and shook his head. He draped the blanket over Sherlock's feet over the rest of his body and gingerly removed his headphones so the cord wouldn't tangle around him whilst he slept. He hung them back up on the antelope skull and then went into the kitchen to make tea. He changed into his lazy day lounge clothes while the kettle boiled. He poured himself a cuppa when the kettle shut off and sat in his chair, the fire having warmed it and the room. Sherlock was still snoring, but they were more soft wuffles now rather than harsh snores. He really looked adorable when he was sleeping. John smiled over at his boyfriend. It was still strange referring to Sherlock as his boyfriend. The term was so juvenile, but it was the only term that fit. They were sort of lovers and had gone on only a handful of dates. Did that make them flatmates-with-benefits, or something else?
John shook his head free of his thoughts. Whatever he and Sherlock were, they were happy. That's all that mattered. They were together and they made each other happy.
He took out his phone and snapped some photos of Sherlock slept. Partially because he looked so young and innocent whilst he slept and he wanted to document it, but also for blackmail purposes should the need arise. He was such a loving... partner. He used one as his contact photo for Sherlock, chuckling at the sight of it. He grabbed his Hobbit book after putting his phone away and began reading it again.
Sherlock woke with a jolt a couple of hours later. He was sweating, far too warm wrapped up in the blanket, so he kicked it off. When had it been draped over him? It had only been draped over his feet. He looked around the room and saw John dozing in his chair.
Oh. Sherlock smiled. Good old John.
He stretched out the kinks in his back before rolling onto his stomach. He wanted John with him on the sofa, but he was far too comfortable to get up and tell him. So he lobbed a throw pillow at his head to grab his attention.
It hit him on the side of his head.
John gasped as he was startled awake. He snatched the pillow before it fell on the floor and threw it back at a snickering Sherlock. The younger man covered his head with his arms but the pillow hit his lower back and flopped onto the floor. He laughed and peeked at John from between the crook of his arm.
'You have terrible aim,' he said.
'Yeah, well, you try lobbing something at someone using your nondominant arm,' John huffed.
Sherlock sat up and grabbed the pillow, lobbing it at John using his left arm. It hit him in the side of the head again, landing in his lap.
John laughed and shook his head. 'Get off the fan sites, Sherlock, he said. 'They'll only corrupt you.'
'Too late,' Sherlock said, chuckling. John laughed and tossed the pillow back at him. It hit him in the shoulder that time.
'So, why the rude awakening?' John asked.
'I was lonely and wanted you over here with me,' Sherlock explained. 'And I didn't want to get up to tell you that. Hence, the pillow.'
'Berk.' John stood and went over to the sofa. 'Budge over.' Sherlock turned so he was on his side, facing John. John lied down so Sherlock could spoon him and draped the blanket over them both. Sherlock draped an arm over John's waist and tangled their legs together. He nuzzled John's hair and hummed.
'I never thought you would be a cuddler,' John commented.
'You never liked physical contact with me before,' Sherlock huffed. 'Not to mention your personal space issues.'
'Well, I'm glad you changed that.' John linked his fingers with Sherlock's over his waist.
'Me too. You're the perfect size to cuddle.'
'Hey, now,' John huffed. 'Don't go making fun of my size.'
'I wasn't. Don't take it to heart. I was merely saying you're the perfect size for me to cuddle. Our height difference makes everything perfect.'
'Oh? How so?'
'Well, because I'm taller than you I'm at the perfect height to always be able to kiss the top of your head. You're shorter height is perfect to allow you to kiss my jaw or lips.' John hummed and squeezed Sherlock's hand. 'And, of course, because I'm taller than you, my cock is at the perfect height to rub against your stomach.' He rut against John's bum as if to prove a point. John hummed and pressed back.
'But let's not start anything right now,' Sherlock whispered. 'I just want to have a lazy day with you.'
'But you hate lazy days.'
'Today I don't. So do enjoy it whilst it lasts.' Sherlock pressed a kiss to the back of John's neck and hugged him closer. John nodded and settled back against Sherlock. They dozed on the sofa for the rest of the day, simply enjoying each other's company.
'What do you want to do for New Year's?' John asked after a while.
'Whatever you want,' Sherlock mumbled. 'Never been a big New Year's person.'
'Then I guess we'll just stick to the traditional nibbles and champagne then?'
'Sure. Whatever makes you happy.' Sherlock yawned and settled back against John, his mind blissfully calm for the first time in ages.
'I'll buy the champagne in a couple days,' John muttered, yawning himself. They napped on the couch for the rest of the afternoon until John's back began to protest. He moved to the bedroom, Sherlock close behind, and they slept comfortably, wrapped in each other's arms.