literature

Rest

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Katesmile's avatar
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Literature Text

Sherlock sits on the couch, his chin rests on his knees. He lazily wonders around the room with his eyes. Tiredness makes his face grey and lack of sleep turned his sharp gaze into dim chips of coal. The adrenalin of the recent chase has almost vanished and only sluggishness stays with the detective.

Sherlock closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He will never admit this aloud, but he really wants to rest.

Heavy and fogged thoughts slowly cross his mind, tangling his conscious. One lock of his dark hair tickles his cheek. The sudden cold touches Sherlock's bare feet.

His head slips down on the chest, causing pain in his neck.

Suddenly something warm covers his body. A blanket. John's. Because it has a unique smell. John's smell. Sherlock's amazing mind protests of another attempting to think.

The detective wants to open his mouth to say something, but his tongue has become very lazy and incredibly heavy.

The blanket has never been so welcoming and warm. It's because it belongs to John. Sherlock's cheek touches the pillow and some seconds later he understands that he is no more in the vertical position. John's hand carefully draws away hair from the detective's face.

On the doctor's face appears tiny, caring smile as his fingers glide down Sherlock's cheek.

"Good night, my sleepy detective" he whispers.

A quiet noise of protest leaves Sherlock's lips, making John chuckle.

"Oh, sorry. Good night, sleepy consulting detective, the only one in the world."

A satisfied grin slightly twists Sherlock's lips and second later John feels his steady breath. Morpheus takes Sherlock Holmes to his mystery kingdom of dreams. Dreams of thrilling chases, tough puzzles and riddles. Dreams just for Sherlock.

John sits near his friend for a while, watching Sherlock's chest moving slowly up and down. Then after a second of hesitation he climbs on the sofa too, near his detective, wrapping his hand around Sherlock's shoulder and resting his own head on the same pillow.
The last thing John Watson can remember is the warm body near him and funny noises of his friend's sleepy murmurs.
A small story which I have written yesterday while I was waiting for my friend. And I was soooo tired*sighs*

Another fluff story(or something like that, because I am not strong in genres :aww:) [link]
© 2012 - 2024 Katesmile
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Moogiesgirl77's avatar
Love Heart Heart Heart  Aww, how sweet, I love it, thanks!