John drifted in and out of sleep for another half an hour or so. When the ache in his back and the pangs of early morning hunger finally forced him to concede defeat, he shook Sherlock gently awake. His curls bounced gleefully as Sherlock shook his head, yawning and getting the cricks out of his neck. John smiled.

"Morning"

 Sherlock turned, still crouched between John's arms. He regarded him suspiciously.

"Good morning, John. I had expected you to be frantically running around London, shouting 'not gay' to random passer-bys at this point. It is truly a surprise to still find you here, in this...intimate position."

John snorted, imagining the scene in his head. Grinning broadly, he replied in jesting tones. 

"Very funny, Sherlock, but if you don't get yourself off my legs soon, I might just reconsider."

Sherlock pretended to look offended and smiled. He rose, and tentatively reached out a hand to help John up. They moved to the bathroom in tandem, only for John to awkwardly hold back, giving Sherlock way and closing the door behind the detective. He stood outside the door, shifting from foot to foot, while Sherlock brushed his teeth. When Sherlock came out, he went in, brushed his teeth and his hair quickly, and took a rushed shower. When he opened the door, Sherlock was still there, standing oddly with his arms held stiffly behind his back. He seemed...uncomfortable.

"What's wrong?"

Sherlock blushed a little before replying.

"I don't know how to do this part. I don't really know anything about this sort of thing."

"I thought you've been in a relationship before?" John felt another pang of jealously.

"That may not even have counted as a relationship. We never progressed beyond awkward kisses and holding hands in hallways. This is entirely new for me."

Some of John's jealously melted away, and he smiled gently.

"It doesn't have to be different at all. We can just do things like we normally do."

Sherlock stiffened. He dropped his head, and when he spoke, it was something that John would look back and laugh at, many years later.

"I knew it. You would never wish to be in a relationship with another man, let alone me."

John raised his eyebrows, confused, and when he realized that the detective had understood his words all wrong, he chuckled and shook his head.

"Not like that Sherlock. I meant that now, even though we are in a relationship, nothing needs to change. We can still be ourselves. You'll be a git and not do anything, and I'll make the tea. Go sit down, drama queen." John winked at his puzzled flatmate.

Sherlock sat down in his armchair, looking curiously at John, who made a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon, and two cups of tea. Sherlock rarely ate, and when he did, it was mostly stolen bits of food snatched off of John's plate. John had gotten used to it long ago, and now he remembered the action fondly.

He gave a cup of tea to Sherlock, and keeping one for himself, he settled himself down on his armchair. They looked at each other, the detective and the doctor, and as they ate and talked, John reflected that maybe, this wasn't so bad after all. He would try this. For himself, and for Sherlock.