MINIFICS: SLEEPING

SALLY

That day had started very badly: early wake-up call, few burned toasts with a watered instant coffee, noisy traffic and a nasty murder.

Moreover, Lestrade had called the Freak in and Anderson had been even flirtier than the usual, though keeping on living with his wife.

By 5 pm, she had already had more than enough.

Luckily, her guardian angel or whatever it was had seemed to remember her: her telephone had ringed.

HAVIN' A HORRIBLE DAY WORK WOT ABOUT GOIN OUT? WAITING 4 U, 9 PM OUTSIDE "GOLDEN LANTERN" – GIRLS NITE! XXX MOLLY

"Why not?"; Sally quickly answered.

REAY TO PARTY! SEE U THERE GIRL – Sally

It had been a very good idea: there had been Molly and few other girls, they had had a delicious dinner first, then had headed to a new, posh club and danced all night long.

She had also necked a bit with a young, good looking boy, just to remind herself that the cock-headed Anderson was not the only man she could have had; she also gave him her number.

At home, she removed her make up, smiled to herself one last time in the mirror and went to bed.

"So much for a bad day" Sally thought closing her eyes; she dreamed of all the things she wanted to do that handsome kid, and woke up the next day much happier.

ANDERSON

"I'd really would like to know what happened" Anderson thought.

Sally had never been so grumpy and out of reach.

Was it for Rose again?

Oh dear, who would have thought that having a little thing on the job with a colleague would have become such a pain in the arse?

He couldn't leave Rose; he loved the good life her family money was letting him having, so the divorce was not an option. Ever.

If Sally couldn't stand it, she could always go get lost; he was sick and tired of jealousy.

In his bed, next to his snoring wife, he turned on his side and fell in an anxious, dreamless sleep.

LESTRADE

Another case solved.

Another desperate mother who had thanked him for catching the criminal who had stabbed his kid during a mugging.

Greg couldn't say he was happy – he still would have preferred not having to investigate on crimes, he would have preferred there were no crimes at all – but at least he was able to bring some criminals to justice.

He poured himself a generous glass of cognac (paying his tribute to his French Grandpa Benoit Lestrade, who had convinced him to join the Yard), sat on the sofa with legs and feet lying on the coffee table, and turned the music on.

As Gershwin's wonderful notes filled the room, he closed his eyes and slid in a well deserved rest.

MRS HUDSON

Mrs Hudson was already in her bed when her two boys got home.

They were stumbling on the stairs, giggling and panting.

She heard them entering the flat, moving pressed together to Sherlock's bedroom, and then making love with passion and need.

"Oh John… Oh JOHN!"

She smiled. She was happy Sherlock finally found someone who loved him despite his bad moods and strange habits.

Doctor Watson was a good, caring man, and she couldn't hope for anyone better than him for her Sherlock.

However, what made her really happy was the fact that Sherlock loved dr. Watson back; she knew his great intellect made him difficult to abandon himself to feelings sometimes, so John Watson winning his heart and his mind was an enormous success.

She could stop worrying about his loneliness now, just to start working on the good functioning of their relationship.

"I'd better get some sleep now, 'cause I think it will be a full time job", she thought when she turned off her bedside lamp.

Her dreams were filled with plans and recipes and countermeasures to every kind of disaster a relationship could ever involve.

SHERLOCK

"Oh John… Oh JOHN!"

After the umpteenth well-addressed hit to his prostate, Sherlock found himself coming on John's and his own hands and stomachs, pleasure waving inside him and silencing all pains and worries and thoughts.

Very little time after, he felt John coming inside him, too.

He stayed still on his back, eye closed, while John cleaned both up and got back lying next to him on the bed again.

He felt the brush of John's blond hair and the weight of his head on his shoulder; he turned his head to kiss his forehead, murmured an "I love you" and let his lover fell asleep on him.

He lay awake, his mind twirling around cases and experiments and evidences, until he felt John holding him tighter, as if, even in his sleep, he knew Sherlock was about to wear out his mind.

Catching the hint, Sherlock smiled and shut his brain down.

Instead of Moriarty and other enemies, he dreamt of his future with John and Sussex and honeybees.

It was a very nice future indeed.

JOHN

"Oh John… Oh JOHN!"

John loved making love with Sherlock; Sherlock was so totally abandoned to pleasure, it was absolutely amazing watching and feeling him so utterly taken.

He felt his lover tighten around his cock as he came in his hands, and few seconds later he was coming too, buried deep inside him.

He carefully stood up, grabbed a wet towelette and cleaned up them both, making sure he didn't hurt Sherlock in any way.

Then, he lay down on the bed again, placing his had on Sherlock's shoulder and embracing him with his left arm; he felt his partner kissing him and heard his muttered "I love you", but he didn't manage to answer: he was already half-asleep.

Though he was sleeping, he knew there was something not entirely right, so he listened to his sixth sense and held Sherlock tight. As he did it, he felt his lover relax against him, and started dreaming.

Instead of war and the Afghani desert and death, he dreamt of his future with Sherlock and Sussex and honeybees.

Sussex? Honeybees?

When had he started dreaming of his future involving moving to Sussex and keeping honeybees?

He shrugged this though away. He had felt good in the dream, he had felt happy.

It was a very nice future indeed.