SPEAKING of sleepy Johns, what about John poke-typing out a blog post, and winding up passed out over the keyboard. Sherlock’s lips quirk up when he finds him like that, and he lets out a soft huff of laughter as he walks over, gently lifting John’s arm from where it’s been resting on the keyboard and holding down the H key for who knows how long. After undoing and deleting all those ‘hhhhhhh’s, Sherlock finally reaches the top of the document–John’s blog entry. While John is still slumbering, Sherlock sneakily reads what he’s written. And his heart does a strange flutter, because this isn’t like the other stuff John posts to his blog. Or…well it is, but John’s blog posts don’t usually talk in so much detail about Sherlock’s eyes, or how fond John is of his hair, or how much he loves it when Sherlock smiles, even when it’s just a little upturned corner of his mouth. Sherlock reads the post, realizing that John is just as aware of Sherlock and all his little habits and behaviors and quirks and physical traits as Sherlock is of his.
John mentions his lips, how soft they look, how hard it is not to stare sometimes, especially when he’s smiling. He talks about Sherlock’s expressive face, poking fun at the way his nose wrinkles in distaste, noting fondly how his brow furrows with concentration, reveling in how he can see those eyes light up when Sherlock makes a connection, and he even tries to list all the colors he can make out in them. John writes about that special tone Sherlock uses just for him, sometimes mere seconds after being completely condescending and derisive to someone else. He notes all the little acts of kindness he shows him that sometimes Sherlock himself didn’t even realize he was doing for John. And Sherlock knows he can be abrasive even to John, but there’s not even a mention of those moments.
John always writes his blog entries like that, but later goes through and deletes the soppy bits. No need to let everyone know that he fancies his flatmate—especially not said flatmate. But now Sherlock knows, and this one time he takes the chance, and after a moment of hesitation, he dips down and rouses John with a feather-light kiss to his cheek, a gentle hand laid on his shoulder. Sherlock’s lips linger there tentatively for a moment, and then tired, sleepy John, just barely starting to wake up, makes a soft little humming sound and instinctively turns his head just slightly, seeking out Sherlock’s lips with his own, even if without really being aware of what’s going on yet, like a newborn kitten blindly feeling his way around. And Sherlock freezes, eyes gone wide as John sleepily, lazily presses his lips to his. It’s nothing much, just a chaste peck, but it’s lingering, and slow and so, so tender. John’s half—well, mostly—asleep, and the sentiment is just so genuine and uncensored, and Sherlock’s afraid to kiss back and break the spell by waking John up further. It’s a relatively brief kiss anyway, and John lets out another sleepy hum of contentment as he starts to blink himself into awareness.
And John is SO RED when he wakes up fully and realizes what he’s doing. And EVEN REDDER when he realizes Sherlock read the un-redacted version of his post.