A Johnlock before christmas

December 17

A bed for two

When John opened the door to the hotel room, he stopped dead. Sherlock, who hadn't expected him to halt directly before him, bumped into his back. The doctor stumbled forward, holding himself up at the doorknob. "Ouch", John murmured, rubbing his head where it had hit Sherlock's chin while walking into the room.

"Why did you stop?", Sherlock asked, glancing around in the room. "Oh", he murmured, before John could answer as he saw what had halted John. He blinked a few times, staring at the large double bed which was positioned at the window.
John sighed. "Why do people always assume that we're together? Now they don't even ask anymore!", he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. Sherlock shifted awkwardly.
"It's fine. I won't sleep anyway. You can have the bed", he told him as casually as possible.
John frowned at him. "You have to get some sleep. You know, chasing a killer in the Swiss Alps when it's snowing can be pretty dangerous. You'll need your concentration."
Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Who says we'll have to chase her?"
His best friend only snorted. "We always end up chasing them. It won't be different this time. So, stop arguing. You're going to sleep."
The detective tilted his head. "And where am I supposed to sleep?"
"With me", John said. Instantly he started to go deep red. "I… uhhh… meant in the bed. It's big enough for both of us."

Three hours and two cups of tea later they were both changed into their pyjamas and climbed into the bed. Both were really cautious that they let enough space between each other so that they didn't touch.
"Night, Sherlock", John said when he turned the lamp on the nightstand off.
"Good night, John", the detective mumbled back.
The doctor turned his back to his flatmate and stared into the darkness. He was wide awake. There was no way he would be sleeping for the next hour. He could hear Sherlock's breathing, even but not deep, that meant his wasn't sleeping either. Probably off to his mindpalace, John thought.

Lying there and doing nothing, his mind began to wander. He thought about the case they currently had. A young woman, only 25 years old had set a bomb in a school. They didn't know yet why exactly, well he didn't know yet, Sherlock probably did and just didn't bother telling him, but they had followed her to Switzerland. Currently they were in a hut somewhere on one of the smaller mountains where she had gotten undercover as a waitress. His thoughts wandered to the man beside him. Why did people always assume they were together? Couldn't two men live together without shagging each other? He couldn't even imagine… Who was he kidding, well he could. He had thought a few times about it, but since he didn't have a chance with the I-hate-feels-detective he wouldn't try. It wasn't as if he just wanted to turn around and get closer to him, to hold him tight and kiss him, his lips, his face, his damn sharp cheekbones, his neck, his collarbone… Stop it John!, he scolded himself.

When John heard an odd noise from beside him, he turned around to listen better.
"Sherlock, are you shivering?", he asked, sensing the light movement of the mattress.
"No", the detective answered, but the slight tremble in his voice betrayed him. The doctor shook his head slightly. "Tell me next time before you freeze", he scolded. He moved over to his best friend, slipping beneath his blanket and throwing his own over them.
"What are you doing?", Sherlock snapped but John didn't answer. He drew nearer until the tall man's back pressed against his front and slipped an arm around his middle.
"John", Sherlock started, but John didn't let him finish his sentence. "Shush", he ordered gently, before he relaxed himself against the sleuth. He breathed in the scent of him, a content smile forming on his face.

After some minutes Sherlock warmed up. John was radiating warmth like a heating. He shifted a bit backwards, pressing himself closer to his blogger. He surprisingly liked the contact of the other men, his arms wrapped around his belly in a slightly possessive way. He couldn't quite understand why, but he definitely liked it. Content he closed his eyes.
John smiled at when Sherlock moved closer to him and tightened his grip around his middle. Then he nestled his nose into Sherlock's neck, closed his eyes and slowly drifted away into sleep.

AN: Thanks to my lovely girls from the whatsappgroup for helping me with ideas for this oneshot!
- I don't own anything.
Merry Christmas

~ Allie