Whether it was because of the case itself or the insufferable noise John was making by dragging the couch usually up against the wall across the room to sit in front of the fireplace, he couldn't tell, but Sherlock was having trouble focusing. It was a rare occurrence for him, and quite an inconvenient one at that.

After a few moments of the sound of wood dragging on wood and then carpet, the crackling of the fire became the only sound in the room again. So it wasn't that after all.

Sherlock glanced up from the microscope in the kitchen to see John sitting at one end of the couch, legs crossed and a book in his lap. The first time John had done this, Sherlock had wondered why he made the effort to drag the sofa all the way across the flat when John's chair was already right in front of the fireplace, and why he always used only the end of the couch when he had the entire thing to himself. When he'd asked about it, all he'd gotten in response was "I prefer the sofa."

Of course, Sherlock being Sherlock, wasn't satisfied with that answer. He had spent a great many hours trying to figure out that one little quirk; hours that more than likely should have been spent trying to find a murderer on the loose or a missing child. More than once he'd stopped pacing to join John at the other end, staring into the fire and losing himself in his thoughts, be they on the case or the mysterious sofa moving or otherwise. It took a while for him to figure it out, longer than he'd care to admit, but he'd done it nonetheless.

Standing from the kitchen table, Sherlock crossed the room and sat at the middle of the couch. John barely acknowledged him; it was a little closer than usual, but nothing worth drawing attention to. He flipped a page just as he felt a weight hit his shoulder. He turned his head the tiniest bit to see a mess of dark hair leaning against him. He blinked, more than a bit confused and wondering for a moment if something was wrong. His breathing seemed normal, and he wasn't moving otherwise...so he marked it up to Sherlock either just being strange or conducting some sort of obscure experiment.

He turned back to his book, only to have his attention pulled away again by a foreign contact at his left forearm. His eyes fell to it and found Sherlock's fingers hooked over it, lightly drumming a rhythm that was probably some sort of code or sequence. He glanced back to the detective's face; he was still focused intently on the fire. John smiled. It may have been an experiment after all, but he had a sneaking suspicion it was just Sherlock's rare, inconspicuous manner of showing affection. Either way, John wasn't going to be the one to interrupt him.

You've got to appreciate the little things.

WOOOOH story description! I know I NEVER do these but this one was just begging for one.

Anyway, I've been shipping Johnlock since before I even started watching. But, and I know this is strange for me, I never saw them as a very...active couple. They both know what's going on between them and they both accept it, and that's all they need. Their relationship wouldn't change much, and honestly I can see them being almost completely (and voluntarily) celibate. Sherlock would see it as a waste of time and John wouldn't need it badly enough to do anything about it. But, every so often, they do little gestures for each other or give tiny signs of affection, and they're both satisfied with that c:

Sherlock, John © Sir Arthur Conan Doyle/BBC/Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss

Art © me