the rhythm that governs
I took a nap and my brain narrated it in Sherlolly. Also, I was bored and this has no actual plot so I used all the synonyms for hug that I could fit in (the ones that made sense anyway; thesaurus.com is doing me a frighten).
Title is from TS Eliot’s ‘A Dedication to My Wife’. The full line is “And the rhythm that governs the repose of our sleepingtime/The breathing in unison”.
Sherlock eases open the bedroom door, peering carefully at the lump under the duvet, counting the beats between slow inhales and exhales. Satisfied, he slips into the room, toes off his shoes and out of his jacket, and climbs into the empty side of the bed.
This is a habit he’s acquired whenever Molly pulls the graveyard shift. She doesn’t often, but her routine for it never varies: breakfast for her and Toby (eggs and a tin of wet food, respectively) when she gets home from work, then a long nap to get her through the rest of the day so she can go to sleep at her normal time.
Molly knows that Sherlock sneaks into her bed, she’s caught him enough times, but he’s fairly certain that she doesn’t know the real reason why.