A/N: This is my first attempt at writing JohnLock, hopefully it turns out well. I have made minor revisions to the story since first uploading, but there is no change in the actual story itself jsut flow issues.

He didn't remember falling asleep on the couch. John went to get up to relocate to his bedroom, but there was a slender arm anchoring him down. Spooned against John was Sherlock; his face was buried in Johns back. For a moment he considered getting up but he was comfortable where he was. Eventually he fell asleep again.

When John woke up Sherlock wasn't there anymore. They didn't speak of it again.

A few weeks later Sherlock was in bed with a cold. John brought him tea and soup, he set it on his cluttered nightstand.

"Bored."

"Well you can't solve crimes with a cold," John said, sitting down next to Sherlock. He was going to go back to the living room and work on his blog, but Sherlock seemed to actually want his company.

Hours later John woke up in Sherlock's bed. Sherlock was curled around John, one arm holding him close to his chest. John smiled and then closed his eyes. Why did he like sleeping with his best friend so much?

The next morning Sherlock was still in bed when John awoke, his arms still around John. As he lay in bed listening to Sherlock breathe he thought about rolling over and burying his face in Sherlock's chest. The more he thought about it the more he needed it.

John rolled over, his legs tangled easily with Sherlock's as they adjusted. Sherlock's fingers absently ran through John's hair and within moments John was asleep again.

The next time they slept together it was in John's bed. He woke from a nightmare and cried out. He buried his face in his hands and tried to stop his tears. As they slipped down his cheeks he felt the mattress sink under the added weight of Sherlock. One hand rested on John's shoulder as if afraid to intrude on this moment.

John reached out for Sherlock, his head coming to rest on his shoulder. Sherlock gently tugged on John, pulling them back onto the bed. Their bodies tangled together and slowly John calmed down, taking comfort in the other man's warmth. They fell asleep tangled together.

When John woke up Sherlock was lying in bed watching him. He smiled sleepily at the detective then moved closer to him. He didn't think about what he was doing, he just put his head on Sherlock's shoulder and draped his arm over his chest.

"What were you dreaming of?" Sherlock asked him.

For a long time John said nothing, then he shook his head and mumbled "It was nothing." Sherlock let it rest at that, not wanting to push John too much.

The following night John had another nightmare. Sherlock slid into bed next to John, wrapping his arms around John and pulling him as close as he could.

Soon Sherlock was slipping into bed every night with John. Neither one of them talked about it, but they both needed it. After a few weeks John began asking Sherlock if he was ready for bed. Neither one was ready to admit what they both felt, but they both knew.

Two months later they were laying in bed one night discussing the case. Neither one of them could pinpoint when this change had taken place. Most nights were spent in this domestic style. Dinner, John would blog and Sherlock would experiment and then they would go to bed. Some nights they slept in John's room, but usually they were in Sherlock's.

John had just begun to fall asleep when Sherlock softly whispered his name. John grunted as a reply and Sherlock nuzzled against John. He put his hand on John's chest and his head on John's shoulder. John wrapped his arm around Sherlock, holding him in place.

"John, are we ever going to talk about this?"

Suddenly John wasn't so tired. He looked down at Sherlock, who was studying him as if trying to deduce the situation.

"Can't we talk after we sleep?"

"Either now, or you have to sleep alone," Sherlock said. It was a threat he didn't plan to see through, but he knew it would get John talking.

For a long time John was silent, mulling over how to explain his feelings. "You keep the darkness out, Sherlock. It creeps into my dreams, but when I'm with you I feel safe." After a few moments he added "I always feel safest when I'm with you."

Sherlock smiled and began to run his finger up and down John's chest. This moment breached their usual level of intimacy and Sherlock kept trying to push it further, to see how far he could take it before John resisted. He leaned in and softly kissed John's neck, then he trailed kisses up his jaw until he reached John's lips.

John tangled one hand in Sherlock's hair, and the other he put on Sherlock's hip. He pulled Sherlock against him, leaving no space between their bodies. The kiss deepened as their hands explored each other's bodies.

John thought for a moment that they shouldn't do this, maybe it would ruin things between them, and then Sherlock pulled off John's shirt and kissed his way down his chest. John lost himself in the moment, focusing only on the detective and the trail of kisses.

Sherlock moved so he was lying next to John, then pulled John close to him. They fell asleep tangled together.

The next morning John was reading the paper and Sherlock was lying with his head in John's lap, thinking about his next experiment. John began to doze off when the sound of heavy footsteps startled him. Sherlock sat up and put space between the two of them and John folded his paper.

Lestrade pushed the door open, looking around for them. There was an air of dejection around him.

"How did you know she was cheating on me?" He asked Sherlock, skipping any niceties. John went to make tea as Sherlock looked at the detective.

"I observed you together. While you seemed to be quite fond of her she did not return the feeling. She shrugged off your hands if you touched her and hardly looked at you. Maybe she is just not the touchy type? I deduced from the picture on your desk she is rather touchy as she was very close to you and seemed to enjoy the contact. This lead me to deduce that she was not uncomfortable being touched, but just uncomfortable being touched by you."

Lestrade stared at him, probably trying to find a hole in his logic. Eventually he just sighed and turned his gaze to the floor. "Just this once I wanted you to be wrong."

"Me too," Sherlock said softly. Both John and Lestrade looked at him in bewilderment. Sherlock didn't notice, or at least showed no sign he noticed their bewilderment.

Lestrade stayed for dinner, and didn't leave until late that evening. Once Lestrade had left John began to gather the dishes and take them to the kitchen. After he finished washing them he turned to look at Sherlock.

The sound of the running water had muffled Lestrade's footsteps as he went back for his coat.

"How did you really know?"Lestrade froze with his hand on the doorknob. Sherlock grinned at John as he moved closer to him.

"I followed her, after I came to the conclusion something was wrong. I didn't tell him what I was up to because I knew he couldn't see if. He was too close to the situation to see it clearly. I never told him I had followed her because it didn't seem important." John shook his head. Sherlock didn't want to admit he has been trying to spare his friends feelings.

"The great Sherlock Holmes has feelings," John teased. Sherlock chuckled and then backed John against the counter.

"Should I demonstrate my feelings for you?"

"Yes please."

Sherlock kissed John's neck lightly. He trailed kisses up and down his jaw. John tangled his fingers in Sherlock's hair and let out a soft moan.

"Are you ready to go to bed?" John asked.

"Mine or yours?"

"Yours again."

Lestrade slowly backed down the stairs and out of the house. He could pick up his coat in the morning.

Sherlock was lying on the couch deep in thought. John was sitting in his arm chair watching him, wondering what he could be thinking about. His mind was an incredible thing, and there were moments when John wanted to peek inside.

"John." Sherlock broke the silence. John realized he has been staring at Sherlock for the last few minutes.

John stood up and walked over to the couch, he climbed on top of Sherlock so he was straddling his hips. He ran his hands down Sherlock's chest, then back up and finally tangled them in his hair. Their lips crashed together as Sherlock pulled John as close as he could.

Sherlock's hand slipped under John's shirt and he moaned at the contact. Soon both of them had stripped each other's shirts off. Their lips were red and swollen from kissing and their hair messed up from each other's fingers.

When Sherlock reached for John's belt John's eyes widened, Sherlock paused to regard John.

"Maybe we should go to the bedroom?" John suggested. Sherlock grinned and continued to undo John's belt and trousers.

"Someone could catch us," John protested.

"It's our flat, they should know to knock first."John stopped protesting and went back to kissing Sherlock. No one did catch them.

They lay on the couch with a blanket draped over them later that day. Neither man wanted to move from their current position.

"I love you," John whispered against Sherlock's chest.

For a moment John thought he hadn't heard him, and then Sherlock replied "I love you too."

Sherlock moved so he was on top of John and began to kiss him. They started gentle and quickly became more passionate. There was a knock on the door and both men froze, trying to remember if it was unlocked. They began to scramble to put on their clothes. The doorknob began to turn as John pulled his jumper on and Sherlock finished buttoning his shirt.

"It's been so quiet up here I thought I'd bring you some tea," Mrs. Hudson said as she came in the room with a tray containing biscuits and tea. They both smiled and sat down in their arm chairs thanking her for the tea.

A few minutes after she left John shook his head and looked at Sherlock. "She knows."

"She always thought we were a couple so it's not much of a stretch," Sherlock points out. They laughed and drank their tea.

Life at 221B Baker Street had never been better.

The End

A/N: Hope you liked it. Until next time!