Love of Heaven and Hell

The Sleeping Loser

"How do people think FBI agents drive such a miserable car?" Sherlock asked.
"What did you just say about my car?" John asked, glaring at him as he opened the door to get in.
"Nothing." Sherlock muttered, getting into the passenger seat.
"I didn't think so." John agreed, turning the key and starting back onto the highway. There wasn't much conversation as they drove, both of them were extremely tired, but Sherlock constantly kept yawning, so obviously he needed some sleep.
"How much farther?" Sherlock asked in a sleepy voice.
"About two hours now." John sighed.
"I'm exhausted." Sherlock admitted, rubbing his forehead as if that would wake him up. The traffic was dying down, and now the only way John could properly see Sherlock was from the headlights shining through the windshield.
"Go in the backseat and sleep then." John suggested.
"Is that safe?" Sherlock asked.
"No, but nothing you're about to do is safe either, so I suppose there are worse ways to die." John pointed out. Sherlock shrugged in agreement, and unbuckled his seat belt to climb into the back seat.
"Just, don't crash okay?" he asked in a pleading tone. John just laughed and shook his head reassuringly.
"I spend half my life on the road, and I've never had an accident." John pointed out with a smile.
"I hope you're right." Sherlock muttered, and with a great leap he sprawled into the back seat.
"How's your shoulder?" John asked, peering in the mirror to try to see Sherlock's outline in the dark.
"Oh, it doesn't hurt that bad, it'll get better I suppose." Sherlock shrugged.
"We might need to change the bandage." John pointed out.
"We'll take care of it when we get in the hotel." Sherlock assured, and John nodded in agreement. Of course he kind of thought that once they get to the hotel they'd be so tired they couldn't take their shoes off, but he didn't mention that. Sherlock lay down on the seats, curling into a small little ball so that his long legs didn't have to stretch out the window. Even from here John could see that his neck was strained, falling back on the seat and hurting his neck. Sherlock didn't complain, of course, John could tell that he didn't want to be a burden after so many favors.
"Here, take this." John decided, letting go of the wheel for a split second to take off his leather jacket.
"What's that for?" Sherlock asked, more curious than insulting.
"Ball it up, make a pillow." John pointed out, handing it over through the seats.
"Oh, thank you." Sherlock said, smiling as he took the jacket. John watched in the mirror as Sherlock followed his instructions, looking comfortable enough. John didn't bother him from then on, but after a while Sherlock looked like he had fallen asleep, or at least he hadn't moved in a while. John was pretty sure he wasn't dead, but in the darkness he couldn't tell if his chest was rising and falling. Never the less, through the quick peeks in the mirror, John had to appreciate just how peaceful he looked. Like a little angel, but, you know, the ones that aren't complete jerks. There was something about Sherlock, something in him that made John want to protect him with his life, he needed to be cared for and watched, as if his entire complexity was made of glass, and one bump would shatter him. John needed to be there to make sure that never happened, he needed to be, in a way, the bubble wrap that prevented him from touching the outside world, as weird as a metaphor as that was. there was still innocence in Sherlock, even if a demon had used him as a meatsuit, even if he had killed a man, he was still a child, scared, nervous, and dependent. When they finally rolled into the right town it wasn't very hard to find the local hotel. There was a big sign hanging over the highway, advertising to travelers. John pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, sighing and rubbing his eyes. Driving so long didn't affect him as it used to, which was a plus of course. John groaned, getting out of the car and opening the backseat door. Sherlock was fast asleep, like a little baby, snoring slightly into the leather jacket. John just didn't have the heart to wake him up, but he didn't really know what to do. John decided that maybe he should rent out a room first, so that Sherlock actually had a bed to sleep in when he woke up. It didn't take long, but the manager was asleep himself, quite surprised to have a costumer so late at night. But soon, for nothing but a good credit card scam, John had a key dangling from his fingers and a sleepy smile on his face. He opened the room and got his things out of the trunk, Sherlock was still sleeping soundly, which seemed almost impossible to John. He was always sleeping with one eye open and a shotgun on the bedside table, just in case something wanted to sneak up on him during the night. John went back to the car and sighed, wondering just how he was supposed to get Sherlock out of the car. So he crawled in a little bit and grabbed Sherlock bride style, and still he didn't stir. It was quite awkward, trying to drag him out of the door, but somehow John managed without hitting him in the head with the door frame or anything. Sherlock was a lot lighter than a normal human should be, it was like his skinny body was vertically hollow or something, but John wasn't complaining. He had carried a lot of people in his time, rescuing them or running with them, but never had someone been so adorable. Sherlock's arms were dangling slightly over John's shoulder, he had put them there of course, so that they weren't dangling and getting in the way, and Sherlock's head was lolling onto his chest, his face and nose squished but somehow fast asleep. John smiled slightly; happy Sherlock was asleep so he wouldn't see him staring. It was a creepy thought, but if he slept so deeply that a fireman carry wouldn't wake him up, then there was something seriously wrong with him. If something did sneak in at night, he would be dead before he even opened his eyes. John opened the door with difficulty, but manage to get Sherlock under the covers of one of the beds, making sure his head was properly cushioned and all that. Sherlock rolled over in his sleep, groaning a little bit, and then hugged the pillow, as if for protection or something. John smiled, went back to the car to lock up and retrieve his jacket, and then, finally, got into his own bed for a long overdue good night sleep.