Title: Plans
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: John/Sherlock (pre-slash)
Wordcount: ~500
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, and I do not make any money from this fanwork.
Summary: John is tired. Sherlock is Sherlock.

Sherlock and John return to Baker Street after three days of (quite literally) running around London. Chasing murderers and thieves is tiring work, especially when Sherlock just sprints away and expects John to keep up. John is bone-tired, and it is all he can do to drag himself up the stairs and into his bedroom. He doesn't even bother with pajamas, just toeing off his shoes and stumbling towards the bed. God, he's going sleep until tomorrow night. Maybe if he has the energy he'll get up for food.


John finally reaches the edge of his bed, ready to collapse in an exhausted heap. But... there is an odd lump under the duvet. He pulls the cover back for just a moment, before taking a deep, fortifying breath and replacing it where it was.

"Sherlock!" he yells, stumbling back towards the door. "Sherlock, you daft git!"

Sherlock is already asleep on the sofa, still wearing his suit. He hasn't even bothered to take off his shoes. John honestly considers dumping him on his arse, but it would just be too much work. He takes half a second to think over his options: his bed is out, the sofa is taken, and the chair is just too uncomfortable to sleep in. He absolutely refuses to let Sherlock's behavior chase him out of his own flat, especially when he is this tired.

Mind made up, John stomps into Sherlock's room. The stupid bugger doesn't understand the concept of privacy anyway, and it's not like he's using his bed. Oh, but is he getting a good scolding when John wakes up. A good scolding, and no tea for at least a week. At least.

John collapses on Sherlock's bed like a puppet with its strings cut, and he is asleep almost before his head hits the pillow.


Sherlock slits his eyes open, smirking as he hears his John stumble into his room and lie down on his bed. The pig carcass in John's bed was a brilliant idea: now John is in Sherlock's bed, right where he wants him. Sherlock deems it a fair trade for the loss of the carcass in any possible experiments. Surely John will appreciate that he didn't put the pig in the fridge this time? He is always complaining about sanitation.

Also, as John thinks Sherlock doesn't understand the concept of privacy (of course Sherlock understands, he just doesn't care), his blogger will not be all that shocked when Sherlock joins him in bed. Naked, of course, under the presumption that his suit is uncomfortable and he is too tired to bother putting anything else on.

Sherlock has the best plans.