Love is an incredibly curious thing indeed. (Sherlock one on one) (Closed!)

"No. There is nothing of interest out there for me."

“Then what in the world do you want to do.” He complained, rubbing his temples.

"I want to solve a murder but there are no murders! What is wrong with criminals these days?"

Sherlock sat on the arm of the sofa. "BORED!" he bellowed.

“I swear I will kill you someday.” He sighed. “While your being bored I’m going to get some sleep. It’s almost midnight. I salute Greg for not murdering you tonight.”

"I guess I should get some sleep too, then." Sherlock said, heading toward his bedroom.

“You can take the room upstairs if you would like. I’ll move my things tomorrow.” He offered.

"No, no, it's fine."

“I can stay down here?”

"You don't have to. But feel free to."

“Oh, y-you meant you’d stay here too.” He shuddered, unsure if he was correct.

Sherlock didn't answer, instead he brought down some blankets and made a makeshift bed on the floor.

“Well, I’m not letting you do that. Especially on your first night back.” He scrambled when he realized what Sherlock had planned on doing. “You take the bed. I’ll head upstairs.”

"No, you can take the bed. I don't care." he said.

“I don’t either.” John insisted, laying on the make sift bed Sherlock had made to stop him from sleeping there.

Sherlock picked John up, bridal style, and dropped him on the bed. "Have I made my opinion clear?" he asked.

“No.” John said, standing up from the bed once more and making his way to the floor.

(Did u want to sleep? It’s late, I’m sorry.)

Sherlock once again picked up John and set him in the bed, this time wrapping him in the covers burrito style so there John wouldn't be able to object or go to the floor again.

(Did u want to sleep? It’s late, I’m sorry.)

(Oh, it's noon here (is lying actually yeah it is late but sleep is for the weak so…))

(Lol cool. I’m not tired so no issues over here.)

John glared up at Sherlock, squirming his arm out of the burrito wrap and yanking him onto the bed.

"Is this suggestive, John?" Sherlock asked.

“I. Am. Not. Gay.” Hey stated as he rolled off the bed, onto the floor, and pretended to snore.

(Ew that rhymed why)

Sherlock yet again shoved John onto the bed. "And you're not moving a muscle, that's final." he said, frowning.

John stayed where he was and mentally crossed his arms since he was still in a burrito. “Fine, but I’m moving tomorrow and that’s final.”

"We are agreed then." Sherlock said. He didn't want to inconvenience John for his sake.

John sighed, looking over at Sherlock. “How’d you do it?”

"Do what?" Sherlock mumbled, nearly half asleep.

(Actually I really need sleep now, bye!)

“I saw you fall. I-I know I saw you fall.” He let out with a shaky breath. “How did you survive it?”