A Study in Resistance- A Johnlock Fanfic

Chapter Sixteen

Not the best nor the longest chapter I've ever written but here it is... I'm about as tired as John so goodnight everyone!

~Sec

By the end of the day on John’s first day back from being out for of Mary (he had gotten sick in the middle of his leave), he was ready to pass out. Somehow he made it back to 221B without nodding off in the cab. He slowly made the climb up to the flat. Good God it was only 6:00. So many stairs! He finally got to the top and pushed open the door. Sherlock was on the couch, John assumed he was asleep since his right arm was draped over the edge of the couch, almost touching the floor. His left was resting across his chests. Sherlock was (sort of) wearing his blue dressing gown, untied yet again. John almost cursed Sherlock for napping on the couch, it seemed like such a lovely thing to do. John made his was to his armchair, dropping his briefcase on the coffee table along the way (it was covered in Sherlock’s crap why not his too?). John plopped down in his chair with a content sigh. Sherlock was doing a bit of mumbling in his sleep again. Sherlock had always slept on the couch about the same amount he slept in his actual bed. Ever since he had ‘died’ Sherlock had taken up mumbling in his sleep, sometimes forming full words. John looked at his friend and wondered what he was dreaming about.

“Mmmn….”

He sounded a bit like a zombie, John chuckled.

“Mmooonn…”

As John watched Sherlock sleeping he found himself wishing Sherlock was more like a normal human. That they could have one of those friendships where they told each other everything. A bit of a teenaged-girly thought yes, but still a nice one (unlike some teenaged-girly thoughts). John continued to watch Sherlock sleep and tried to make out what he was saying, but more wondering what he was dreaming about. Slowly the mumbles got closer and closer to words and it hit him; Sherlock was saying ‘John’. Now John really wondered what he was dreaming about. Sherlock’s face twitched a little bit and he shook his head.

“John…” something seemed to be bothering him. Sherlock must’ve been having a nightmare… about John? What could John possibly be doing in Sherlock’s mind? [Damn you dirty minded fangirls (I need a name for you people) not like that!]

“John! No!” Sherlock yelled suddenly sitting bolt upright, his eyes wide open. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were wild.

“You, uh, you okay over there Sherlock?”

“John,” Sherlock took a deep breath, “When did you get home?”

“A few minutes ago. What was that?”

Sherlock swiveled so his feet were on the ground and ruffled his hair. John smiled at this very Sherlock-y action.

“Did you get milk?” Sherlock asked, ignoring John’s question.

“Was I supposed to get milk?”

“Well we’re out,” Sherlock said as if that answered the question.

John just stared at him.

“So yes,” Sherlock finished.

“I’m the one with a job.”

“I have a job!” Sherlock said, insulted.

“Yeah but half the time you refuse payment. And besides I’m out a lot more than you are. I think shopping should be your responsibility.”

“You’re out more, out is where the shops are!”

“I’m busy when I’m out.”

“Busy, broadly speaking.”

“Can you not just buy the food every once in a while?”

Mrs. Hudson popped her head in, “Ooh look at you two! Deciding who should do the shopping… It’s food now next, bedspreads!”

“Mrs. Hudson!” they yelled in unison.

She smirked at them and walked back down the stairs.

“No,” Sherlock said.

“What?”

“No I cannot buy food every once in a while.”

“God, fine then don’t bother me about the bloody milk!” John yelled. He was so bloody tired. He walked briskly into a room and slammed the door.

“Dammit!” he whispered, this was Sherlock’s room. If he walked out now it would ruin his dramatic exit. John was tired, Sherlock had a bed. What difference was it really? John curled into Sherlock’s bed for a nice nap.