Cuddles- Sherlock x Reader

        Something you had never expected Sherlock Holmes to be was a cuddler.  But he was.  This was something you had learned after five months into your relationship with the consulting detective.  You found out just this morning, the weight of his arm around your waist, face in the crook of your neck.  Your eyes opened drearily, the morning sun leaking in through the window.  You turn cautiously, trying not to wake your boyfriend up.  Rubbing your eyes sleepily, you watch his form.  He shifts a little in his sleep when you move your arm, but continues to snooze.  He hadn't been sleeping for a couple days because of a case, and the purple bruises under his eyes were getting slightly better after one night of rest.

        You study his face closely, trying to burn the image into your mind.  You mentally trace his features, working on remembering every inch.  His dark curls fall into his face slightly.  His eyelids fluttering while he dreams.  His pink lips slightly parted, his cool breath brushing against your face.  The fingers on the hand wrapped around your waist twitches slightly.  His pale face having a bit of color.  Your eyes trail over the shape of his face, the sharpness of his cheekbones, trailing over his nose.  A small smile lights up your face.  His normal emotionless face was peaceful.  There wasn't the normal look of concentration.  His features were relaxed.

        You lean up slightly, kissing him just under his jawline.  His lips twitched up into a smile for a second after you completed your action.  You then close your eyes for a moment, drinking up your peaceful surrounding.  The usually busy street was quiet, the only noise the faint chirp of a bird.  You could barely hear Mrs. Hudson rustling about down stairs.  You take a deep breath, and begin to slowly pull away from Sherlock.  You had just barely made it out of his hold when his arm reached out and pulled you down again.  "Stay," he muttered.  He rests his chin on the top of your head, both arms going around your waist.  He pulls you close to his chest, no space between you both.  His deep hum of contentment resonated through his chest.  "We have to get up sometime, Sherlock," you tell him quietly.

        "I know," he grumbles.  You smile slightly.  "Look at the bright side, we can go get breakfast," you tell him.  "And then we can go find a good murder to solve."  You wait for his reply, but nothing came.  Confused, you raise an eyebrow.  "Sherlock?" you ask.  He shifts slightly.  "I-I'd rather be here with you," he says quietly.  A crimson blush creeps upon your face.  Did Sherlock just choose you over solving a murder?  His favorite thing?  You felt utterly flattered.  "Well, I'm hungry.  Let's go get some breakfast, then we can come back and cuddle," you say, jumping out of bed.  He groans in reply.  "Well, come on!" you say, hitting him with a pillow.  "(Y/N)," he groans.  You giggle and run out of the room.  "We don't have to cuddle when we come back, Sherl.  Maybe we can do something... more?" you tease from the living room.

        The next thing you know, you hear a loud thud, and someone scrambling to get up.