Sherlock has been locked in his room for weeks, again. With no cases to attend to, he has been keeping his mind occupied with other things, such as trying out a new sedative on your dog or even shooting at the wall in an attempt to find a way to silence the gun.

You decided to take him out for dinner. To The Royale, his favourite place.

You arrived there, ate, but also drank quite a lot of alcohol. More than you would like to admit.

This morning, when you woke up, the first thing you noticed was that Sherlock was lying, with his back against your chest, sleeping peacefully, both of you naked and covered only by a thin blanket.