HI MATT

[wearsthecoats]

Sherlock has:

• an armchair by the fire
• an expression of unreasonable cheer
• a mug of cold-pressed coffee
• a truly impressive collection of hickeys, accented by a well-bitten lip that only recently stopped bleeding.

Comments

[wearsthecoats]

And Sherlock will remember it as one of the loveliest things he has ever witnessed.

[semicharmed]

When he's done, he slumps bonelessly against Sherlock's chest, head on his shoulder, and tries to catch his breath.

[wearsthecoats]

Sherlock tucks his arms around Matt's waist, warms himself, and waits him out.

[semicharmed]

It feels like quite a long time before he's able to speak.



"Well."

(He still can't breathe entirely regularly.)

"That was ...

Thank you.

Wow."

[wearsthecoats]

"It was rather delightful, wasn't it?" he agrees, smiling.

[semicharmed]

"I don't think I can move right now."

He does not sound like he finds anything wrong with this.

Quite the opposite.

[wearsthecoats]

"Lucky that you aren't required to, then."

[semicharmed]

"Mmmm," he agrees.

He can feel himself starting to cool down-- only a little, but the spell overheats him to the point that it's difficult to miss.

[wearsthecoats]

"Losing the warm again?"

[semicharmed]

Matt admits, "Slightly."

He stretches against him with an absent murmur.

"How long'd it last this time, do you know?"

[wearsthecoats]

"A little more than half an hour," he reports.

[semicharmed]

"... That's not bad," he decides.

"I, uh. Think I could get it to a steadier burn, as it were, if I used a different ratio of herbs." A yawn. "Eventually."

[wearsthecoats]

"Shall we go have a rest?" he suggests. "Or are you all out of experiments for the evening?"

[semicharmed]

He breathes out a laugh.

"I need a rest," he says.

"But ... mm. I could go one more round, I think. And then I'll need to eat."

[wearsthecoats]

"Oh, that."

Yes, Sherlock. Food is a thing people require regular doses of in order to continue functioning.

"Mm. Well, for now—to bed?"

[semicharmed]

Matt groans, half contented and half a protest against moving.

"Yeah," he agrees, "sounds nice."

[wearsthecoats]

"Shall I carry you?" he offers cheerfully.

[semicharmed]

This is rapidly becoming a Sherlockian tradition.

"My pride says no," Matt observes.

"But my jellylike limbs say yes, please."

[wearsthecoats]

"Well, damn your pride, then," he says, scoops Matt up with careful gentleness, and gets to his feet.

[semicharmed]

He laughs, head lolling against his shoulder.

"'Sprobably for the best."

[wearsthecoats]

"Mhm. Wouldn't want to waste your precious energy."

[semicharmed]

Matt kisses his shoulder.

"Not when there are so many worthwhile applications ..."

[wearsthecoats]

"Indeed."

He sets Matt down gently and climbs in after him, arranging a fold of blanket between them so he can go cold and still snuggle without inflicting his temperature on Matt.

[semicharmed]

Matt is supremely amenable to this, and blanketsnuggles immediately.

[wearsthecoats]

Perfect. Sherlock relaxes into the blankets with a sigh.