John would never live it down if Sherlock caught him now. Never mind that Sherlock was fast asleep, and that John had muted the telly and turned on the subtitles in order not to disturb him.
An unusual bout of insomnia had driven him from bed. He didn't feel like surfing the internet or reading a book. He was brain-busy with nothings and minutiae and needed an easy distraction. Ergo: the telly.
He jumped when he heard Sherlock's quiet voice behind him.
"What are you watching?"
"Monk. It's American."
They watched in silence for roughly 96 seconds before: "The detective is absurdly OCD. He couldn't possibly function in society."
Considering the source, John found the comment ironic. He kept silent.
Approximately 82 seconds later, Sherlock piped up again. "The cult leader is faking his miraculous health with the assistance of pharmaceuticals."
"I had guessed, thanks."
"Then why continue watching it?"
"Because it's funny. Because I can't sleep."
Sherlock put out a hand. "I'll help you sleep. Turn it off and come back to bed."
"I didn't want to bother you." John shut off the telly and tossed the remote aside. Taking Sherlock's offered hand, he stood.
Sherlock turned John's hand over and kissed the inside of his wrist. "You are many things to me, John, but never are you a bother."