To be honest, I didn’t get much sleep at all. I tried not to be worried and jealous and annoyed all at once, but I didn’t really succeed. I used to never pay attention to his nighttime habits when I slept upstairs except to assume they weren’t particularly healthy. However, since his return they have been very regular, and I had gotten very used to that. So much so that the idea of him not being in the bed when I attempted to fall asleep was quite foreign to my way of functioning. And clearly, I’m not really functional when he’s not there.
I just couldn’t get comfortable. Which seems absurd since even when he is in the bed he has nothing to do with my personal comfort. But nothing felt right. And then I got upset with myself for not being able to get to sleep without him, which just made it harder to do so.
And of course, the moment I finally dropped off, he came home. He was stealthy and quiet as per usual, even succeeded in getting into the room and undressed without waking me, but the moment his weight dipped the mattress I was sitting up, squinting for his form in the darkness.
“I didn’t mean to wake you…”
“I’m not sure you did. It’s fine.” I moved over to make room because I’d been crowding his side of the bed.
“Have you not slept at all then?” He slid under the covers into his familiar spot.
“I don’t know. Is it late?” I lay back down trying to make out his face.
“Technically it’s early.”
“I don’t want to know. Let’s just pretend I’ve slept.”
“It won’t make you any less tired.”
“No, but it will make it easier to get back to sleep.”
“If you say so.” He pulled the covers up and hunched down.
“Glad you are home safe.” I turned over and curled up facing away from him.
“Me too. Good night.”
“G’night.” A settling pause. “Sherlock?”
“Anything come of the motorcycle?”
“No.” I frowned in disappointment. “But there was something to be learned from a jet plane…”
I was glad it was dark so my grin didn’t attract comment.