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Chapter Two - Awkward!

John woke slowly and peacefully the next morning. 'Hmmm… This is different.' He thought, opening his eyes a crack expecting the usual blinding morning light from the window to the left of his bed, only to find that he still couldn't see.

'Huh?' There was something blocking this light. 'Not the duvet, that's tangled around my feet near the bottom of my bed. So what is it?'

John reached up to move whatever it was that was blocking his sight but he couldn't, it was too heavy, and it was warm.

"Wha…!" He jolted back and fell off the side of the bed with a bump, realising that it was in fact Sherlock that he was snuggled into.

"Owww…." He moaned, almost like a child. Hmm, he didn't like that!

"Oh good, you're awake." Sherlock stated airily, nothing was amiss in his world, it seamed.

"Uh… Yeah… Um, w-what are you doing in my bed?" John stuttered, something he abhorred but couldn't stop when frustrated all the same. He was still sprawled on the floor where he had fallen, he noticed, but made no move to get up. Sherlock considered how he should reply. "You, were having another nightmare… I heard you shouting…" He faltered 'Come on brain! You're so good at other times, then work now!' "Um…" He said, realising he had stopped in his answer to John to have the mini fight with his brain to try and get it to do what he wanted, mainly give a good explanation to his flat-mate. "Er, So I came and… Comforted… you." He finally finished. Sherlock thought again, this time showing some hint of it on his face. "That is what people do isn't it? It did seam to work…" He said, almost to himself.

John started to get up off the cold hard floorboards of his bedroom. "Uh… yes, I suppose they do." He made to leave to have a shower and get dressed but couldn't help but hear the just audible wince Sherlock made as he got up from John's bed. 'He must have been there all night.' John noted. Sherlock really had been training him well. 'He'd be proud, in his own arrogant, pompous way.'

John closed the bathroom door behind him, he was utterly perplexed as to why Sherlock was in his bed, obviously most of the night, not moving till John woke and fell off his bed.

John had his shower, wrapped a towel round his waist and, whilst still rubbing ferociously at his damp hair with a smaller towel, meandered across the landing to his bedroom to get dressed.

Sherlock was still on John's bed when he got there, he appeared to be thinking, on what exactly John could only guess.

"Sherlock, can I get dressed please?" He didn't answer, still in thought.

"Sherlock?" John asked impatiently. Was Sherlock playing with him? Ignoring him? John put one of his hands on his hip, the other subconsciously holding the towel around his waist, and waited for Sherlock's reply.

Description
Chapter Two - Awkward!

John woke slowly and peacefully the next morning. 'Hmmm… This is different.' He thought, opening his eyes a crack expecting the usual blinding morning light from the window to the left of his bed, only to find that he still couldn't see.

'Huh?' There was something blocking this light. 'Not the duvet, that's tangled around my feet near the bottom of my bed. So what is it?'

John reached up to move whatever it was that was blocking his sight but he couldn't, it was too heavy, and it was warm.

"Wha…!" He jolted back and fell off the side of the bed with a bump, realising that it was in fact Sherlock that he was snuggled into.

"Owww…." He moaned, almost like a child. Hmm, he didn't like that!

"Oh good, you're awake." Sherlock stated airily, nothing was amiss in his world, it seamed.

"Uh… Yeah… Um, w-what are you doing in my bed?" John stuttered, something he abhorred but couldn't stop when frustrated all the same. He was still sprawled on the floor where he had fallen, he noticed, but made no move to get up. Sherlock considered how he should reply. "You, were having another nightmare… I heard you shouting…" He faltered 'Come on brain! You're so good at other times, then work now!' "Um…" He said, realising he had stopped in his answer to John to have the mini fight with his brain to try and get it to do what he wanted, mainly give a good explanation to his flat-mate. "Er, So I came and… Comforted… you." He finally finished. Sherlock thought again, this time showing some hint of it on his face. "That is what people do isn't it? It did seam to work…" He said, almost to himself.

John started to get up off the cold hard floorboards of his bedroom. "Uh… yes, I suppose they do." He made to leave to have a shower and get dressed but couldn't help but hear the just audible wince Sherlock made as he got up from John's bed. 'He must have been there all night.' John noted. Sherlock really had been training him well. 'He'd be proud, in his own arrogant, pompous way.'

John closed the bathroom door behind him, he was utterly perplexed as to why Sherlock was in his bed, obviously most of the night, not moving till John woke and fell off his bed.

John had his shower, wrapped a towel round his waist and, whilst still rubbing ferociously at his damp hair with a smaller towel, meandered across the landing to his bedroom to get dressed.

Sherlock was still on John's bed when he got there, he appeared to be thinking, on what exactly John could only guess.

"Sherlock, can I get dressed please?" He didn't answer, still in thought.

"Sherlock?" John asked impatiently. Was Sherlock playing with him? Ignoring him? John put one of his hands on his hip, the other subconsciously holding the towel around his waist, and waited for Sherlock's reply.