A continuation of Raining

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      Six glorious days of nothing.
      Six days of absolute peace.
      Six days without a telly, internet, and only a phone.
      Sherlock was going mad.
      John on the other hand was having quite a nice time in the little rented cottage. There was so much open space around them, and the wonderful view of the ocean, that even when Sherlock was bored John needn’t worry about the walls.
      What he had to really worry about was the local wildlife.
      Because when Sherlock got bored… Well, John should have known better than to let him outside by himself. Now all the animals, even the birds, stayed as far away from the cottage as they possibly could.
      It wasn’t all bad. As the sixth night of their two week vacation presented itself with quite a surprising twist…
      “I’m sleeping with you.”
      John looked up from his book, Sherlock’s tall frame blocking the light from the fireplace. “I? You? Sure?” What could he possibly say to that?
      Then again… John’s idea of sleeping with someone and Sherlock’s idea of sleeping with someone were two entirely different trains of thought that threatened to collide, and nearly had when night fell and John nervously staved off sleep. But as the grandfather clock struck midnight, Sherlock appeared once again in the sitting room wearing his dressing gown. Beneath it, of course, were his sleep trousers and one of John’s old t-shirts. The man had taken to wearing them around the flat whenever they’d ended up in his own laundry by mistake. John never got them back.
      But there he was, looking down with his hands on his hips, at John. “Are you coming to bed?” he asked, his voice almost an accusation. “How can I sleep with you if you are not in your bed?” He reached down to take the book from his boyfriend’s hands and pull him up from his seat. John noted he was careful to pull predominently on his right arm, holding the left only for balance.
      “Come. To. Bed.”
      “Sherlock, I don’t think-“
      “You’re tired. I’m actually tired. Merlin knows why… I’ve been sitting around doing nothing all week.”
      “There was the day you spent chasing squirrels with a bit of wood around the house.”
      ”That was an experiment,” Sherlock huffed, pulling him out of the room and up the stairs to the bedrooms.
      Each time John tried to wriggle his arm away, Sherlock’s fingers tightened. Eventually, when Sherlock had opened the door to the room John had picked for their stay, the doctor was released and Sherlock divested himself of his dressing gown, hanging it neatly on a nail.
      ”Okay…” John said in the doorway, watching Sherlock as he moved to the double bed and pulled back the blankets. “How… Well, I mean- Have you really thought this through?”
      ”I’m only sleeping with you,” Sherlock said, climbing under the blankets. He looked back to John expectantly, noting that his boyfriend was still standing in the doorway, fidgeting. “What? Have I overstepped my bounds? My research indicates that this is what happy, healthy couples do. They share a bed and sleeping quarters.”
      ”Oh. Well, yeah. That’s good. That’s very-“
      “Quit babbling like an idiot and get in the bed.”
      ”Like this? I’m not even… I’m still wearing my jeans. It’d be a bit uncomfortable-“
      Ash colored eyes rolled “Then change clothes. Really, John.”
      After a few more awkward moments, and Sherlock’s running commentary on how childish John was being for not wanting to change in front of him, John was finally crawling under the blankets. His heart was racing, expecting at any moment to be accosted from the other side of the bed. It’s not like he didn’t know it was coming. That at some point he and Sherlock would…
      Just as he thought it, Sherlock chuckled turning onto his side to stared at John’s worried and confused expression. “John,” he purred from his side of the bed. “I’m not going to molest you in your sleep. Still taking my  potions, remember. Just like I promised.”
      John licked his lips nervously. “Good,” he replied, a little more firmly than he’d intended.
      But Sherlock just smiled. “Think of it as falling asleep on the sofa. Or last Tuesday when I made it rain keys.”
      Inwardly, John was kicking himself. Sherlock was right, he was being childish. Of course his boyfriend had meant sleeping. Literally just sleeping. Together. In the same bed. Nothing more. Sherlock just watched him. Watched the gears turn and the thoughts process and work themselves out in his mind. When he saw the relief of realization cross John’s face, Sherlock scooted closer.
      ”You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he said, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “When I decide to propose intercourse you will be well informed of my intentions.”
      And with that, he rolled back to his side of the bed, his back to John and turned out the light.
      Sherlock slept soundly through the night.
      John lay awake, unsure if the problem between his legs was from close proximity to his wizard boyfriend or the result of his overactive imagination conjuring possible situations in which Sherlock would inform him of his intentions.