Authors Note: I just wanted to write a cute little one-shot. I hope you all enjoy it.

I woke in the middle of the night shivering violently. My sleep addled brain wondered vaguely if I was outside in the deep London chill, after all, it had been snowing very hard before I went to bed. I pushed the ridiculous thought away as I slowly came into full conciseness. Of course I was laying in my own bed in my room.

My nose and ears felt as if they would fall off from frostbite. Even though I was exhausted the cold had woken me up, and I found my feet and hands equally frozen. repressing a groan I flicked on the bedside lamp and allowed my eyes to adjust to the invasive light.

"God." I moaned looking at the clock next to me. It was 1:37 A.M.

The heating must have been off for whatever reason (I hoped for Sherlock's sake it wasn't an experiment). With a heavy heart I recognized I wouldn't be able to sleep until I was warm. My soldiering mind told me if I were to survive the night I would need to search for more blankets.

And that was how I stumbled upon Sherlock Holmes in our living room, staring out the frosty window like it was 1:37 in the afternoon on a sunny day.

"Good morning." I said because I didn't know what to say.

He mumbled something and ignored me.

"Why is it so cold in here?" I asked him.

"The heating is off. Mrs. Hudson is bringing someone to come look at it in the morning." Sherlock replied.

"Oh good. For a moment I thought we were preparing this for your cadavers."

Sherlock's long-suffering sigh revealed his displeasure towards my humor.

"I thought it was funny." I mumbled. He continued ignoring me, shuffling from foot to foot every ten seconds or so, his arms crossed against his chest. "it's freezing. How can you just stand there in your pajamas?" I asked him as my teeth chattered.

"There's an electric blanket in the closet." He said still peering out the window.

Trying to understand him when he was in a mood was a waste of time, so I spent it fetching what looked like to be the only spare blanket in the house. Before bounding up to my room I stopped to check on my room mate. It was odd to stare at him standing there, especially since I was sure he knew I was watching him.

"What are you looking for?" I asked him. "Is something wrong?"

"No." he said dismissing me. "Go back to bed."

"Are you going to be alright? It's deathly cold..."

If he heard me he didn't give me any sort of recognition. As the seconds passed the darkness and the quiet took it's toll and I was beginning to get tired again. I got the impression he wasn't in a chatty mood. Well... I wasn't his mother, so I didn't bother on nagging how he was going to catch his death, or how eccentric he seemed standing there.

"Goodnight." I said grateful to head back to sleep. "Thank you for the blanket."

And so, without further incident, I went to bed.

It was as if someone had thrown a block of ice against my leg. I stumbled awake, and in my half-asleep state-of-mind I turned on the bedside lamp in alarm.

"Turn out the light." I heard Sherlock's voice order me.

I shut it off instinctively, but not before I was able to formulate a coherent thought. My heart pounded in shock. Sherlock Holmes was in my bed! And his feet were as cold as ice- it was he that woke me up for the second time.

"What- what the hell are you doing?" I stammered, catching my breath.

He gave out another of those long-suffering sighs.

"Would you please shut up? I'm trying to sleep." He replied.

"Why are you sleeping here?"

"I don't know if you deduced this, but it's very cold and your bed is warm. It is the only warm thing in the house." He said. He shifted onto his side, his dark curls brushing against a pillow he had brought.

"Sherlock, I don't know how to break this to you, but slipping into your room mate's bed in the middle of the night... it's not decent."

"Why?" He challenged tucking the blanket around himself.

"I'm not in the mood to debate your naivety towards social awkward situations." I said.

"If I knew this would bother you so much I wouldn't have offered you my blanket. I should have warmed up my own bed."

"Offered me... you only gave it to me so I could warm up a bed for you? Oh my God, that's psycho!"

"I'm not psychotic." Sherlock mumbled.

I pulled the covers closer to myself and laid on my side, resisting the urge to read the clock. He tugged back. We both fought a little until resting in the middle, our bodies brushing against each other.

"Comfy?" He said in a bored tone.

"Very." I insisted sarcastically.

"Goodnight." He said pleasantly.

"Fine." I growled. "Good night."

"Why are you upset? I'm not kicking you out of bed."

"It's my bed!"

"It's my blanket."

"Fine. Take your stupid blanket." I said kicking him a little.

"And have you blog about how I ruined your night?" Sherlock snapped, resting his cold feet on me again. " I can see the comments now, 'Sherlock is so mean. How dare he hurt our favorite, John Watson- the man who knows Earth goes around the sun!'"

"Will you ever stop bringing that up?"

"Maybe I wouldn't bring it up so much if every copper in London didn't ask me about it with their stupid, smug faces-"

"Of course they do! It's elementary school material!"

"It's not important!" He snarled through clenched teeth."There could be rabbits on Mars eating snowmen and it wouldn't make a bloody difference!"

"Mars is a hot planet, just so you know." I said with a cruel grin. "Snowmen being there is very unlikely."

"You misunderstand my point, yet again." He replied. "Not that I am surprised, there's only so much people like you can process."

I slowly counted to three, willing my blood pressure to subside. I could feel his body tensed against mine, ready for the next insult for me to throw at him.

"I'm sorry." I said trying to calm down the whole situation. "I won't blog about your...that anymore. You must know you're staggeringly intelligent."

"Naturally." He said tonelessly after a moment. I didn't expect an apology.

"Let's just relax." I suggested.

His body slowly began to ease next to mine, and our combined warmth was starting to loll me to sleep. It surprised me to realize I really didn't mind him being there. In some strange way it was actually sort of nice.

It didn't take me long to fall asleep.

It was still cold in the house when my alarm went off. I had to stretched my hand across Sherlock to shut it off- I didn't have work but I still forgot to turn off my alarm so that I could sleep in.

Sherlock made a moaning sound before huddling very close to me. His long arms tangled around me like an octopus latching onto it's prey, pulling me in the covers. Luckily one of my hands was free to scratch the itch on my nose as one of his dark curls tickled my face.

"...Sherlock.." I said softly feeling his warm breath against my cheeks.

"Shut up John." he moaned again before readjusting himself. His chin was resting on the top of my head now.

I couldn't imagine he knew how intimate we were being. I could only imagine his embarrassment if it was explained to him.

"Holmes I-"

"Shhhhh!" He snapped at me.

I was stunned into silence again as his arms wrapped around me tighter. A few seconds later and he began to snore. I felt his heart beating and the slow rise and fall of his chest against me. I had seen him sleep often in our living room but it was completely different being so close to him.

The sensation wasn't unpleasant... just odd. It had been some time since I'd shared a bed with someone. That someone I never could have imagined was Sherlock. But there we were, I might have felt bad about it if I wasn't so comfortable.

I had resigned to my fate as I snuggled closer to him and drifted off once more.

That morning I had dressed alone in my bedroom. Sherlock was in our living room reading the newspaper with his feet tucked beneath him, still in his pajamas.

"Good morning. Again." I said. I watched his reaction closely, wondering if he was the least bit uncomfortable with my presence.

"The heat is back on." he informed me behind the paper.

"Oh...that's nice."

"Yes." He agreed.

"Sherlock?" I said stepping into the kitchen. I heard him shuffle his newspaper to look at me. "You don't think there was anything weird with...uh..."

"The heater?"

"No- not the heater." I sighed. I should have known better then expect this not to be awkward. "Nevermind." I said hastily. I didn't know where I was going with mentioning last night because I really didn't want to talk about it. I heated up a pot of water to make tea.

"Are you referring to me sleeping with you?" He asked.

"No, you didn't sleep with me." I said correcting him. "You slept in bed with me, you didn't sleep with me-"

"Same thing."

"No it's not." I said running my hands over my face.

"Fine. You're having a bad reaction to me sleeping in bed with you." Sherlock said.

"I'm not having a bad reaction." I said defensively. "Okay, maybe it was a little...unexpected, but it wasn't bad."

"Good." He said.

"Yeah...good..." I said to myself. I grabbed two glasses out of the cupboard and thought about how nice it was to wake up next to him. "So...what exactly was wrong with the heater?" I asked him bringing him a cup of tea.

"Nothing." He said with a smile. "I just turned it back on."