I always do think of you...sweet dreams-Vamps (Hyde), "Sweet Dreams"

Sherlock Holmes was a selfish boyfriend. Not that that surprised John. Sherlock was selfish as a flatmate, a friend, a colleague and, well, as a person in general.

He would jump into bed at three in the morning after solving some small case in which John was not involved and promptly steal the entire duvet, wrapping himself up in it saying that he might be in shock so that John was forced to go get a throw from the sitting room.

Or he would shove his long, cold feet under John's legs in the night, chilling John right through his pajama bottoms. In public he would shove his hands in John's jeans pockets, front or back despite his gloves, never mind that they were in the middle of Tesco's.

He never remembered a towel and left John in the wet spot.

He would sprawl across the bed during the night, following John's warmth until John was squished up at the edge of the bed, clinging on for dear life.

He snored a little and mumbled in his sleep, although that wasn't really selfish.

All this, in addition to never cooking, cleaning or shopping, or even offering.

He was alternately overly affectionate and clingy, or completely distant and focused on his work saying that she was still his wife and John his mistress.

John learned to simply tiptoe over and kiss Sherlock on the head while he was working and then slip off to bed. He wasn't even sure that Sherlock noticed.

John was almost asleep when he heard the door open and Sherlock pad quietly in. John instinctively clutched the comforter tighter. Sherlock slipped into bed behind him, curling his long limbs around him and pressing against his back. Absolutely silently Sherlock gently kissed the back of his neck and slipped a slender hand inside John's pajama top to caress his chest, wind chest hairs around those beautiful fingers. John shuddered slightly even though this was still only pleasant, not really erotic. As if, as always, Sherlock could read his mind, Sherlock slid his hand lower into the waistband of John's pajama bottoms and began to stroke the hardening penis tenderly.

"Sherlock," John whispered.

"Shh…," Sherlock replied, kissing more firmly, running a tongue along the top of John's back and nibbling John's shoulders through the fabric.

It was all so slow and languorous that John wasn't sure if he wanted to come or drift to sleep in Sherlock's arms, but gradually the intensity began to build.

"Faster, Sherlock, please."

Sherlock's hand tightened and moved up and down the shaft rapidly, still gently kissing John's back. John felt himself build, grow close and come with a small moan. It wasn't the most intense orgasm, but it had an odd poignancy with Sherlock's strange gentleness.

Surprisingly Sherlock passed him a towel. "Sherlock, do you want, I mean, would you like me to…"

"Sweet dreams, John."

Sherlock slipped from the bed with the same cat-like grace but paused before leaving the bed entirely.

"I always do think of you, you know," he said quietly and padded out of the room, back to his work.