Hey there! I'm updating a bit early! And this chapter is the longest one I've written so far. I'm sorry it's so long but I just couldn't stop writing and I wasn't sure how to break it up or how to end it sooner. The ending is still crappy but I figured it was already long enough. Thanks to Supernatural though, 'cause that's what I was watching when I wrote this, and for now my writer's block is gone. :)

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John Watson had never been scared of the dark, so when he found himself hunkered down in the back seat of a 1972 Jensen Interceptor he was surprisingly calm, despite the fact that the sun was no longer in the sky, and he and Sherlock were sitting in an abandoned car outside an abandoned warehouse where Sherlock believed the stolen jewels had been stashed.

How Sherlock had managed to convince John to come along with him on his 'stakeout', he wasn't sure. However, when John actually thought about it he realized all Sherlock had done was ask him to come along, and he'd said yes. A new question then came into his mind: why did he say yes? Was it because John didn't want to be left alone at the flat, or did he genuinely want to help with the case? John had been asking himself that for a while now. Nowadays he wasn't sure if he was helping with the cases because he wanted to help or because he just wanted to spend time with Sherlock.

"What exactly am I looking for again?" he called to Sherlock, who was sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window. His brow furrowed and he frowned. John figured it was because it was the third time he'd asked Sherlock that question.

"We're waiting to see if anyone goes into or comes out of that warehouse. How many times do I have to tell you?" John sighed and nodded his head. For some reason he found that after a while he would just forget why they were even out there. He blamed it on the fact that he was incredibly tired and as a result less focused. He clasped his hands together and rested them in his lap.

"Well, you know, third time's the charm." He looked towards Sherlock, and though only parts of his face were illuminated by the moonlight, he could still see the smile on Sherlock's lips. John smiled as well, then turned to look out the window. He began to wish that he had brought a coat with him when they left the flat that morning. He had been under the assumption that he wouldn't be needing it, or that he could at least stop by to get it before they came here. He'd asked Sherlock but they had come straight to the warehouse from the hospital.

His stomach growled, and he wrapped his arms around himself, in an effort to quiet his stomach and to keep himself warm. He hoped they found whatever it was they were looking for, so that if he got sick it would be worth it.

"Are you hungry John?" Sherlock asked. John didn't respond, as he was a bit embarrassed that Sherlock had heard. "If so, I've got a few chocolate bars and some crisps that I bought from the hospital gift shop."

"So that's why you went there?" John asked, leaning forward and putting his face in between the driver and passenger's seat. Sherlock turned away from the window to give John an inquisitive look.

"What are you talking about?"

"When I asked Lestrade where you'd gone, he said to check the gift shop." Sherlock raised his eyebrows and nodded his head slowly.

"Yeah, I figured if we were out here for too long you'd get hungry, so I got some snacks." Sherlock reached into his coat pockets and held up a package of crisps and a chocolate bar. John took the crisps and opened them with a smile on his face. He looked back up to Sherlock while he chewed.

"Thank you Sherlock," John said, turning to him and offering a smile. "That's really considerate." Sherlock's eyes briefly glanced in John's direction, then he looked back out of the window.

"You're welcome."

John looked down at the package of crisps he was holding, and felt a smile come across his face when he noticed that Sherlock had bought his favorite brand.

"How did you know to get these?" he asked. Sherlock waved his hand in the air.

"Lucky guess, I suppose."

"Oh come on Sherlock, you never guess."

Sherlock kept his focus on the window for a moment longer before he turned to look at John, one side of his mouth turned upwards to form a lopsided grin.

"Yeah, okay," he said.

"I must say I'm flattered," John managed to say around a mouthful of crisps, "that you've got space in that crazy, brilliant mind of yours to remember my favorite brand of crisps."

"Oh, not just that John," Sherlock said, turning to look out the window again. "I've made space to remember almost everything about you, right down to how you like your tea, what your favorite TV shows are, what size jumper you wear..." He paused to take in a breath. "The list goes on and on."John had no idea what to say. He fumbled around with his words for a moment before he was able to form a coherent sentence.

"I'm surprised Sherlock. I really am. All that space you could fill with information relevant to your work and you're using it to remember pointless details about me."

"It's not pointless."

"I mean, I could understand my birthday and the like, but my jumper size? Doesn't that just take up unnecessary space?"

"Don't be silly John," Sherlock turned away from the window and gave him a small smile. "There's always room for you."

Once again John was speechless. He stared at Sherlock with his mouth open for far too long before he decided to stuff his mouth with crisps and avoid having to talk for a moment longer. Sherlock just laughed and looked back out the window. John finished his snack and tossed the package to somewhere in the car.

"Any chance you bought a blanket at that gift shop?" John asked as he wrapped his arms around himself again

"No," Sherlock said quietly. After a brief moment had passed Sherlock's head spun around and he squinted at John,. "Why, are you cold?" John looked down at his lap and nodded, though he knew Sherlock couldn't see.

"A bit, yeah. But I'll be fine."

John heard movement in the front seat, and when it stopped John looked up to see Sherlock's coat in front of his face.

"Oh, no Sherlock. I can't."

"Take it."

John sat still for a moment longer, then sighed and reached up to grab the coat. Sherlock let go of the garment and it fell into John's lap. With shaking hands he picked up the coat and spread it out like a blanket on top of himself. He felt bad for having taken Sherlock's coat, but the bad feeling faded more and more the warmer he got.

The coat smelled like Sherlock. Though John didn't exactly know how to describe the scent, he knew he liked it. It comforted him, and relaxed him to the point where he started to nod off. If it weren't for the sound of Sherlock constantly rubbing his hands together and shifting in his seat, John would've fallen asleep right then and there.

After lying there for several minutes, barely awake and listening to the sounds of Sherlock trying to stay warm, John sat up and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Would you like your coat back?" he asked. Sherlock shook his head and waved him away.

"No, no. You keep it."

"But Sherlock it's freezing-"

"I'm fine John." John peeled the coat away from himself, shivering slightly when the cold air hit him. He tried to give it to Sherlock but he refused.

"Come on, you'll freeze."

"I'd rather it be me than you."

"Oh for God's sake Sherlock, just take your coat back!"

"No!"

John let out a long, aggravated sigh and ran his hands over his face.

"How about we share it?" The words had left John's mouth before he had time to think about what he was saying.

"What?" Sherlock asked, turning around in the seat to peer at John over the headrest. John looked down at the coat in his lap and shrugged.

"I mean, you can see fine from this window...and it's a decently sized coat..." he trailed off, and kept looking down. Soon John heard movement in front of him, and when he looked up he saw Sherlock pulling the front seat up, creating more space in the back of the car. Then he climbed into the back and settled down next to John. The entire left side of John's body was pressed against Sherlock, and John was painfully aware of this fact. Sherlock reached over John in an effort to cover John more with the coat, and John felt his face heat up. He knew the extra warmth he felt wasn't due to their makeshift blanket, but he wasn't sure as to what caused it.

"How can you even see out the window when you're leaning against the door like that?" He asked Sherlock, who was resting his head against the car door.

"I can't, but I can hear just fine." John nodded, then let his head fall back as well. He tried to get comfortable, but found that he couldn't due to the fact that Sherlock's elbow was jabbing him in the side.

"Would you quit all that moving?" Sherlock asked.

"Sorry. Just...trying to get comfortable."

"Oh. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Well, your elbow It's kind of..."

"Oh, sorry!"

Sherlock tried to move his arm, and John tried to move away, but they found it was impossible to do either and keep the coat covering both of them. After a few minutes of awkward shuffling, they both sighed and stopped moving. John looked up at Sherlock with a smile on his face.

"I guess this is as good as it gets, huh?" Sherlock shrugged and tilted his head to the left.

"Well..."

"What?"

"I imagine there is a way for us to be both comfortable and warm."

"Alright then."

"But..." Sherlock turned away and didn't continue. John nudged him in the side with his elbow.

"Alright now," he said, "Out with it."

"Well..." Sherlock looked down at him, and when John met his gaze, he knew what Sherlock was suggesting. He simply nodded his head, and Sherlock moved his arm so that it was resting on John's shoulders. To John's surprise the gesture didn't make John as uncomfortable as he thought he would be.

"Is this weird for you?" Sherlock asked, looking down at John. John looked up at him and found that despite the fact that Sherlock's face was barely an inch away from his, he was able to maintain eye contact with him and even smile as he answered.

"Surprisingly, no."

The right corner of Sherlock's lips turned upwards, and John found himself smiling as well. John cleared his throat and diverted his eyes away from Sherlock's face.

"I'm just glad there's no one here to see us." When Sherlock didn't reply, John looked up and saw that his eyes were downcast and his bow shaped lips were forming a frown.

"You always talk like... Like you can't stand the thought of..." He trailed off, and John couldn't ignore the sad tone of his voice, but luckily it didn't last long. Suddenly his frown was replaced by a smirk and his tone was more joking than anything. "You'd be lucky to have me as a-"

"Yeah, I'm sure I would be." They both chuckled, then settled into a comfortable silence. After a while John's stomach growled again, and he asked Sherlock if he could have the chocolate bar. Sherlock told him they were in one of the coat pockets, and began looking for it. While he did so, Sherlock's hand brushed over a sensitive area between John's legs and he took in a sharp breath. His face instantly became ten times hotter than before, and he was suddenly very glad it was dark so Sherlock wouldn't see how undoubtedly red his face was.

"I- I don't think that's what you're looking for," he said breathlessly. Sherlock stopped searching for a moment, and smirked at John.

"Maybe it was." He winked, then finally pulled out the chocolate bar he'd been searching for. He handed it to John, who took it without saying another word. He had no idea what to say at the moment, so he stuffed his mouth with the sugary goodness and remained quiet even after he had finished the chocolate bar. They didn't speak much after that, except for the occasional 'are you okay?' coming from Sherlock. Each time John had simply nodded his head, unable to trust his voice.

John hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep until he was opening his eyes and squinting against the sun that was coming in through the car windows. He sat with his eyes half open for a short while before he noticed that his head was resting on something hard.

"Good morning John."

He lifted his head and looked to the left and saw Sherlock sitting beside him. His face was completely emotionless, and his eyes remained looking forward, but when he had spoken there was a softness to his voice that John wasn't expecting from Sherlock.

"Good morning," he managed, his voice still a bit raspy from his slumber. He started to stretch, but then he remembered the position he and Sherlock were in and stopped. He could feel Sherlock's hand resting on his shoulder in exactly the same place it had been before John had fallen asleep. He found this to be a bit weird, as it would be impossible for Sherlock to keep his hand perfectly still while sleeping. From what he remembered from Fiji Sherlock was not a calm sleeper.

"Did you sleep at all?" he asked. Sherlock shook his head.

"No." John sighed.

"Sherlock..."

"Well, someone had to stay awake and keep an ear out for the robbers."

"Right," John said, nodding his head. "Sorry."

"Don't be." Sherlock, said, looking down at John and smiling. "And might I say..." his smile turned into a smirk, "You look absolutely adorable when you sleep." John looked up at Sherlock with his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth hanging open. However, when his eyes met Sherlock's his face relaxed and he smiled. Sherlock was smiling as well, but after a few moments the smile fell and his gaze softened.

"John, I-"

"Hold on a minute," John said, holding up a hand and silencing Sherlock. He kept quiet and listened intently to what he thought was the sound of crunching leaves.

"But John-"

"Not now Sherlock," he hissed, "I think I hear something."

"But-"

"Oh, can't it wait?" John asked, glaring at Sherlock. A look of shock came across Sherlock's face before a wave of pain, and finally no emotion shone in his eyes. He removed his arm from around John's shoulders and looked down. John slowly turned around and raised up enough to peer through the window. Though it was hard to see much in the dim light so early in the morning, John could see a figure headed in the direction of the warehouse.

"Sherlock, look at this." When Sherlock didn't move John grabbed his arm and pulled him up to look out the window. "Over there, by the door. Doesn't that look like the guy who manages the bookstore across the street from the jewelers?"

"Yes," Sherlock mumbled, "yes it does."

Sherlock and John watched from the car as he entered the warehouse, then when the door shut behind him, they sprang into action.