330.Hammock

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John hummed softly, his arm around Sherlock's shoulders. This was perfect.

Sherlock was curled up, cuddling into John's chest, a hand under his tropical-patterned shirt and resting on his stomach, a cheek pressed against the man's chest, Sherlock's head tucked under John's arm.

John had one foot hanging out, with the toes touching the ground, he was slowly rocking them, hoping to keep Sherlock asleep.

All week, he had been stressing about this honeymoon. He deserved to sleep peacefully, in a hammock, curled up against John.

“Ah,” John sighed, the sun shining onto his face. He could hear the stream a few yards away, it was relaxing.

Sherlock stirred a little when he felt John set a hand on his side, but beside that, he kept sleeping.

John leant in, kissing Sherlock's cheek. “Sherlock,” he purred.

“Mmh…?” Came the response of a drowsy husband. John kissed Sherlock's forehead.

“I love you.”

Sherlock nodded tiredly. He yawned, looking up at John, who stared at him from under sunglasses. Sherlock chuckled and laid his head back down.

He went back to sleep, smiling to himself.

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