ruyu
in
wax_rabbit
A Sleeping Sherlock
Title: A Sleeping Sherlock
Author: Ruyu
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): John, Sherlock
Warning(s): Sufficient Amounts of Fluff
Summary: John recounts the first time Sherlock falls alseep on him. ^^
I’ll never forget the day Sherlock fell asleep on me.
The weather was quite horrible and left us stranded in our flat, unable to trek across the city and discover clues for the case we were working on. So I, in my boredom, grabbed my laptop, cuddled into the sofa and surfed the internet, careful to avoid eye contact with my blog link. Rain poured outside and tapped against the windows of the sitting room. Thick clouds rolled in the heavens and darkened our scarcely lit room, making it seem like late evening when it was nearly noon. I heard Sherlock come up the stairs from his rain-watching; he had kept sticking his head out the front door and observing the storm for signs of its demise and our chance to escape the flat. The door swung open and Sherlock emerged, looking uncommonly sleepy, hair and shoulders wet.
“Alright there?” I asked from my cosy spot on the sofa.
Sherlock shook himself like a dog, his curled hair fanning out in dark, loose ringlets, flinging water about the room. “This damnable weather is ruining my plans.” Then, to my surprise, Sherlock yawned. In my few months of residency here, I had not once seen the man yawn, much less show any sign of fatigue. It was endearing to say the least.
“When was the last time you slept?”
His eyes seemed to glow in the low light and the tendons of his neck glistened with moisture. I met his eyes again and he blinked them in an exhausted way, lids heavy and slow. “I slept a few hours the day before yesterday, you remember, the night that Lestrade came over and gave me those photos. I fell asleep on my bed looking at them.”
“You mean to tell me that you’ve been awake for 34 hours?” I asked incredulously. “My God, how do you function?”
“I manage,” Sherlock said offhandedly. He turned and walked to the window, looking down at the street, void of life in the storm. I watched him in silence for few moments and then returned to my laptop and the on-line game I had discovered. It was a puzzle game that I found quite addictive if I could only figure out the blasted thing. Minutes later, a large crack of thunder made me look up and notice that Sherlock had not yet moved.
Then I realized his eyes were shut. The man was falling asleep standing up!
“Sherlock?” I called to him.
He didn’t move an inch. I saw his chest rise and and settling, relaxing his body even more as he stood. I feared that he would fall, so I stood and went to him, grabbing his arm and leading him to somewhere he could sit. Only there were piles of book upon our other chair and sofa, leaving only the other end of my seat available. I shook my head in aggravation at his clutter and led him to the sofa. He fell into the cushions, his head lolling back and jerking him instantly awake.
“John?”
“Oh, do shut up and go to sleep. You nearly fell asleep standing.”
“I - well...” he tried to explain, but I had already sat down beside him and grabbed my laptop. I ignored him for a while, resisting temptation to look over and see if he had fallen asleep again. I just played my puzzle game in silence.
I had nearly forgotten about him as I bit my lip in frustration. The puzzle I was working on was on a difficult level and nearly impossible for me to solve. Suddenly, Sherlock’s finger pointed to the screen and he said, “Move this one, then this one and you should have it.”
Looking over, Sherlock hadn’t moved very much. He was leaning toward me, our shoulders almost touching. I could smell his drying hair and the sent of his aftershave. He was entirely too close, but I couldn’t find it in me to ask him to move. His eyes were drowsy and his face slack as though he were resisting falling asleep.
He helped me on a few more puzzles, no longer using his finger, just saying what I needed to do. The next puzzle I had trouble with he was silent and then I felt his temple settle on my shoulder. Sherlock was curled against my side, hands sandwiched between his thighs for warmth and his head resting comfortably on my shoulder. I smiled and nearly laughed, wishing I had my phone so I could take a photo of this rare moment.
His body was warm and solid against me and just looking at him made me sleepy. I solved one more puzzle and shut my laptop, laying it on the side table. Sherlock shivered and I noticed the chill bumps on his wrists. I listened carefully for any noise downstairs, embarrassed at the thought of Ms. Hudson catching us like this. When I heard nothing, I pulled down the blanket from the back of the sofa and tossed it as best I could over his body. He snuggled into it and in the process, snuggled further into me. His breathing was steady and deep, and the more I listened to him the more I felt my eyes drifting close.
I was nearly asleep when I heard him sigh, “John.”
x-posted to sherlockbbc
Author: Ruyu
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): John, Sherlock
Warning(s): Sufficient Amounts of Fluff
Summary: John recounts the first time Sherlock falls alseep on him. ^^
I’ll never forget the day Sherlock fell asleep on me.
The weather was quite horrible and left us stranded in our flat, unable to trek across the city and discover clues for the case we were working on. So I, in my boredom, grabbed my laptop, cuddled into the sofa and surfed the internet, careful to avoid eye contact with my blog link. Rain poured outside and tapped against the windows of the sitting room. Thick clouds rolled in the heavens and darkened our scarcely lit room, making it seem like late evening when it was nearly noon. I heard Sherlock come up the stairs from his rain-watching; he had kept sticking his head out the front door and observing the storm for signs of its demise and our chance to escape the flat. The door swung open and Sherlock emerged, looking uncommonly sleepy, hair and shoulders wet.
“Alright there?” I asked from my cosy spot on the sofa.
Sherlock shook himself like a dog, his curled hair fanning out in dark, loose ringlets, flinging water about the room. “This damnable weather is ruining my plans.” Then, to my surprise, Sherlock yawned. In my few months of residency here, I had not once seen the man yawn, much less show any sign of fatigue. It was endearing to say the least.
“When was the last time you slept?”
His eyes seemed to glow in the low light and the tendons of his neck glistened with moisture. I met his eyes again and he blinked them in an exhausted way, lids heavy and slow. “I slept a few hours the day before yesterday, you remember, the night that Lestrade came over and gave me those photos. I fell asleep on my bed looking at them.”
“You mean to tell me that you’ve been awake for 34 hours?” I asked incredulously. “My God, how do you function?”
“I manage,” Sherlock said offhandedly. He turned and walked to the window, looking down at the street, void of life in the storm. I watched him in silence for few moments and then returned to my laptop and the on-line game I had discovered. It was a puzzle game that I found quite addictive if I could only figure out the blasted thing. Minutes later, a large crack of thunder made me look up and notice that Sherlock had not yet moved.
Then I realized his eyes were shut. The man was falling asleep standing up!
“Sherlock?” I called to him.
He didn’t move an inch. I saw his chest rise and and settling, relaxing his body even more as he stood. I feared that he would fall, so I stood and went to him, grabbing his arm and leading him to somewhere he could sit. Only there were piles of book upon our other chair and sofa, leaving only the other end of my seat available. I shook my head in aggravation at his clutter and led him to the sofa. He fell into the cushions, his head lolling back and jerking him instantly awake.
“John?”
“Oh, do shut up and go to sleep. You nearly fell asleep standing.”
“I - well...” he tried to explain, but I had already sat down beside him and grabbed my laptop. I ignored him for a while, resisting temptation to look over and see if he had fallen asleep again. I just played my puzzle game in silence.
I had nearly forgotten about him as I bit my lip in frustration. The puzzle I was working on was on a difficult level and nearly impossible for me to solve. Suddenly, Sherlock’s finger pointed to the screen and he said, “Move this one, then this one and you should have it.”
Looking over, Sherlock hadn’t moved very much. He was leaning toward me, our shoulders almost touching. I could smell his drying hair and the sent of his aftershave. He was entirely too close, but I couldn’t find it in me to ask him to move. His eyes were drowsy and his face slack as though he were resisting falling asleep.
He helped me on a few more puzzles, no longer using his finger, just saying what I needed to do. The next puzzle I had trouble with he was silent and then I felt his temple settle on my shoulder. Sherlock was curled against my side, hands sandwiched between his thighs for warmth and his head resting comfortably on my shoulder. I smiled and nearly laughed, wishing I had my phone so I could take a photo of this rare moment.
His body was warm and solid against me and just looking at him made me sleepy. I solved one more puzzle and shut my laptop, laying it on the side table. Sherlock shivered and I noticed the chill bumps on his wrists. I listened carefully for any noise downstairs, embarrassed at the thought of Ms. Hudson catching us like this. When I heard nothing, I pulled down the blanket from the back of the sofa and tossed it as best I could over his body. He snuggled into it and in the process, snuggled further into me. His breathing was steady and deep, and the more I listened to him the more I felt my eyes drifting close.
I was nearly asleep when I heard him sigh, “John.”
x-posted to sherlockbbc