Oneword: Drifting

John turned fitfully in his sleep, drifting from nightmare to wakefulness to bizarre dreams to NREM and back. He was vaguely, unconsciously aware that he was not alone, that a gentle weight rested around his waist which lifted to allow freedom of movement each time he stirred. It always wrapped back around him, though, and gripped a little tighter when John's limbs struck out in fear. Finally, the nightmares faded and didn't return. John settled in comfortably, nestling in against the warm body with a thankful squeeze around the waist. It was thinner than his arm was accustomed to holding at night, but that thought didn't register as important until he became more conscious.

As he woke, the sunbeam graciously blocked by an angular shoulder, John was momentarily disoriented. His mind had formed a connection between sleeping with company and awakening in a strange room, so the sight of his own familiar surroundings threw him through a loop. As did the chest pressed against his own, soft enough but not laden with extra padding. John's gaze followed the sternum up to a multitude of chins, as Sherlock peered down at him with a bemused expression.

"Your alarm didn't go off, so I let you sleep," he murmured gently, leaning in to press his nose and lips into John's hair.

John suddenly remembered the events of the previous day and gave a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, er... My alarm won't be going off anymore for a while." He curled his arm a little tighter around Sherlock's waist, relishing the warmth. "I got fired yesterday. I went to a pub to cope for a bit, met a nice woman, then came home to you. Forgot all about it when this" He gestured to Sherlock's bare skin, "happened."

Sherlock grinned, "Excellent, now you'll be able to assist me with no other obligations."

John only ducked his face into Sherlock's neck with a giggle. "You are the greediest man I've ever met."