Watson's Coat

Watson had taken a painstakingly long amount of time to make sure he had gathered all of his belongings before moving out of 221b Baker Street, so how could he have forgotten his absolute favorite coat? It was the one he wore all the time and so he couldn't just leave it there to get lost under piles of junk and experiments gone wrong.

He let himself into his old residence with the key he still kept in his pocket and was overwhelmed with the feeling of home. It looked like home, it even smelt like home and he couldn't imagine ever feeling the same way for Cavendish Place, no matter how hard he tried. With a sigh, he ascended the stairs, passing Mrs. Hudson on the way who stopped him to chat and asked how he had been doing.

He plastered on a broad smile and told her everything was going beautifully and that he was looking forward to being completely settled. When she let him pass, he went directly to his bedroom and looked about for the missing coat. It almost shocked him how empty the room looked, even if he had been the one to clean it out. All of his books and possessions had been moved from the shelves and the bed was beginning to acquire a thin layer of dust. He searched around the entire room but there was absolutely nothing left in his closet or under the bed, or in any drawers.

Then he decided to move on to the sitting room. As soon as he entered the room, however, Watson stopped dead in his tracks. There, curled up on the settee was the great (and currently adorable) Sherlock Holmes, clutching to Watson's coat in his sleep. Once Watson remembered to breathe, he took a step forward and then another, until he was right in front of the sleeping man. He couldn't explain why his heart was pounding so hard or why it made his insides flutter with a secret joy to see Holmes cuddled up with one of his possessions.

He watched him for a moment, enjoying the look of calm on his friend's face and the seeming innocence that his form emanated. A small smile formed on Watson's lips and he suddenly felt like he hadn't genuinely smiled in months. He reached a careful hand forward and let his fingers brush through the man's wild, yet surprisingly soft hair. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle parting kiss to Holmes's temple before quietly leaving the room.

Maybe he didn't need that coat so badly after all.