I Was The One Who Cared After All It was a calm evening at 221b, which came as a surprise to John. It had been weeks since their last case and the latter one had consisted of unruly experiments day and night that stretched from counting the number of times John breathed within an hour as he slept (from which he had been so rudely awakened, Sherlock's face mere inches from his) to Sherlock releasing a pack of mice in the apartment to trace their flight movements, and of course John had to clean up every single mess Sherlock left behind. Lucky for John, Sherlock had decided instead tonight to focus on composing as John listened silently to the violin melodies,
Soft Lips are Open "John?" "Jaaaaawn?" Sherlock looked over his shoulder to see John's small figure passed out in his chair, his mouth hanging open ever slightly and a small whistle leaving his mouth every time he took a breath. Sherlock sighed, nothing to do now. He continued to watch John, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyes would constantly flutter. A dream. He was having a dream. Sherlock hoped it was a good one, not one of those nightmares that would wake John, screaming to the point that the sound could be heard downstairs in the kitchen where Sherlock would be experimenting with whatever creature he could find in t