First thing I recalled on this morning is, surprisingly, not my alarm clock going off. It was the weekend, but even then I woke up a half hour before it would normally go off. Arthur lay curled up at the foot of the bed near my uncovered feet. His cute little black face looking up at me as I moved around.

Sherlock was falling into awareness to the right of me, curled up under the blankets and against my chest. He looked like such a kid when he slept. Usually I'm the one who ended up snuggled next to him in the mornings and he would wake up first.

Sherlock looked up at me with his hazy ice-green eyes and I placed a small kiss onto his forehead. A little smiled graced his lips before he curled back up under the covers. The hour of the morning was too early for him, especially after running on several days of no sleep.

"Go back to bed, you need the sleep," I whispered to him, sliding out from under the covers and tucking him in more. He mumbled something in reply that I could not make out, but he listened and closed his eyes again. His long, pale legs tucked back up under the covers to keep warm.

Trudging to the bathroom, I went about my morning business. I already knew I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. I couldn't help but notice my muscles were achingly sore. Sherlock and I had a long night last night, but I did not think of how sore I would be.

Stepping into the shower, I turned it up to a high heat and attempted to loosen some of my muscles. My lower back hurt the worst of all. Rubbing it with a wince, I quickly washed my hair and cleaned my body. Stepping out, I draped a towel around my waist and walked out into the living room.

My laptop sat on the table in hibernate mode, plugged into the charger to maintain power. Quickly turning it on, I stepped into the kitchen to turn on the kettle. I knew Sherlock would stir into complete awareness soon because of the loss of my body heat.

Plopping down into my chair, a shooting pain raced up my spine. My back straightened and I couldn't help but let out a little cry of surprise. So Sherlock really had been too rough last night. Of course, the moment I decided to be in pain was the same moment Sherlock decided to walk out and see.

"What's wrong?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, strolling over to me. He had pulled on a pair of sleep pants but his hair still lie in a curly heap atop his head. I shuddered a bit under his gaze and made myself more comfortable in the chair.

"I'm just a bit sore," I spoke with a smile to ease his worries. Sherlock calmed a bit at that and slid into his favorite position on the couch. I watched as his abdominal muscles tensed and the little 'packs' jutted out under the strain. Sherlock was not all skin and bone. He had muscle, a lot more muscle than most people would think or assume he has. I thought about my own body then.

"You are perfectly fine John," Sherlock said, staring at me strongly. I gave him a weak smile and stood to make my tea. I could hear Sherlock get up as well. I was not sure where he had gone until his hands wrapped around my waist from behind as I made my tea. His thumbs started kneading into the dimples of my lower back.

I let out another little sound of surprise but then relaxed as Sherlock worked at my sore muscles. He always had an infatuation with touching me when we were not in public. I think his favorite thing to do was to give me massages. He knew they helped. I was just happy that the towel stayed securely around my waist.

Even as Sherlock massage out my aches and pains, I went about making the two of us tea. I made both cups stronger today because I knew we would have a long day ahead of us. I took the weekend off a work after a rough day yesterday, seeing as Sarah and I got into it. I'm not sure if I even still have a job there.

I flinched away from Sherlock when he hit one of the many knots in my back. "That one really hurt," I muttered, pulling away from Sherlock's arms. I knew I shouldn't be mad at Sherlock, but thinking about work had my temper on edge. I grabbed my own cup of tea and headed back into the bedroom whereas I left Sherlock's cup on the counter.

In the bedroom, I slipped on a pair of dark jeans and my striped shirt. It was too warm for my jumpers, but still too cold for short sleeves. Sherlock, shockingly, didn't follow me back into the bedroom. I figured I should go an apologize to him before we spent the whole day not talking to each other. Strolling back out into the living room with my teacup I saw him sulking on the couch. I sighed.

"Hey," I spoke first to get his attention, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be angry at you for something that doesn't have anything to do with you." I apologized sincerely, standing near his prone form on the couch. He didn't say anything or more. "Sweetie," I pleaded to get his attention.

Then he looked up at me and I could see in those icy-blue eyes that he was worried for me. I hadn't told him about the incident at work but I already knew that he deduced it from me. I sighed and went to the end of the couch and sat on his legs.

"John!" Sherlock scolded me, pulling his legs from out underneath me. I ignored his huff of annoyance.

"I suppose you want me to talk about it?" I questioned him, staring down at the slowly cooling tea in my cup. It was cinnamon flavored tea, one of my favorites. I didn't even want to drink it now, so I set it on top of the table. I could feel Sherlock scrutinizing me with his gaze.

"I can already infer that you had a fight with Sarah about your being late and that it's apparently my fault, which it isn't. I already knew you were sleep deprived and snappish with your patients, which didn't help the Sarah situation. You may lose your job and you're afraid that I won't want you because you can't provide. You're sore from last night and tired, which is understandable because of the thing-" I cut Sherlock off during his deduction.

"Shut up, Sherlock," I glared at him. I know I already told you that my temper was on edge, but Sherlock pulling his usual Sherlock self wasn't helping and he needed to know that. He clamped his mouth shut and continued to look at me. I felt bad the instant the words left my mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm just a bit on edge today since I've been thinking about yesterday at work," I murmured my apology, moving closer and lean against Sherlock, "I shouldn't take it out on you."

"It's fine," Sherlock told me, cautiously slipping an arm around my shoulders. He never was the greatest with emotions of the 'fluffy' type, but this worked for me.

"Sarah is just such a woman sometimes," I vented out loudly, "She needs to understand that just because I used to like her and take care of her that I'm not always going to be like that. I have zero feelings for her! She thinks she's better than you! Her of all people thinks she is better than you, the great Sherlock!" I shouted, fuming about the words she had spoken to me the day before.

"If anyone is great, it would be you John," Sherlock whispered softly to me, wrapping his other arm around me in an embrace. I remained quiet and relished in the warmth his shirtless body gave me.

We remained hugging like that until our tea got cold and it was well past six in the morning. I was the first one to pull away. Sherlock smiled at me and placed a kiss on my forehead, much like I had to him this morning.

"Want to go out for breakfast?" Sherlock asked me with a wide grin. I nearly laughed, well, giggled out loud at that.

"Oh God, yes."