Just Some Johnlock Oneshots

Hoodie

Another Teenlock but I tried to keep this one away from school.

Sherlock was on his way home from ballet practice, kicking chunks of snow as he sauntered down the pavement. He shivered in the chilly January air and watched as his warm breath became visible when he exhaled. Thankfully the Holmes house was only a few blocks away from the studio because his jacket and boots didn't help warm his thin frame clad in tights. The curly haired boy absentmindedly hummed a tune the class had danced to as he turned the corner onto his street. Shortly Sherlock stepped onto the porch gently illuminated by an outdoor light and kicked the snow off his boots. He opened the heavy door and was hit by a comforting wave of heat.

The teen sighed on his way to his room before shedding his dance attire and running a warm bath. Practice had been vigorous because there was a competition coming up in a few weeks and while Sherlock was an excellent dancer, he was quite sore from the exuberant exercise. Although he was sore, he was still quite excited for the upcoming practice in two days. Once in the bath, he let his mind drift into his mind palace and began deleting the events from the day he didn't need. The first memory to go was that of Mycroft waking him this morning with a cup of water to the face. His brother claimed Sherlock was sleeping too hard and couldn't be woken any other way, but it was an obvious lie.

After decluttering his palace, Sherlock dried off and got ready for bed. His mother knocked on the door to say goodnight, but Sherlock rolled his eyes and ignored her.

...

The next two days were full of the usual winter break boredom. By five o'clock, Sherlock was practically buzzing with anticipation for his next dance rehearsal. It was the only stimulating activity he had to look forward to over his last week of break. He had quickly thrown his tights and loose gray shirt on and bounded out the door with a brief goodbye to his parents. Somehow in his excitement, he had forgotten to grab a coat and didn't realize it until halfway to the studio. It wasn't until a particularly chilly wind gust blew and the boy gasped when the air hit his pale skin. Sherlock simply shrugged and picked up his pace. It would be pointless to go back to get one when he was almost at his destination. The last block he jogged over the snowy sidewalks when the cold became too much and breathed in the warmth of the dance studio.

Sherlock nodded to his dance instructor who was standing at the door of the classroom on his way to put his bag in his cubby. He pulled out his black slippers and began tying them around his ankles.

"Hey, Sherlock!" A cheerful girl's voice rang through the air. "How ya doing?"

He lifted his curly head to meet the eyes of the girl grinning before him. He resisted a grimace when seeing Harriet settling on the floor beside him.

"Fine," Sherlock muttered. He returned his focus to his feet and then started to stretch out his limbs.

"Hey, so I know you can do that deducing thing or whatnot, and I was wondering if you could tell if any of these girls are like into girls?" Harriet's blonde pony tail bobbed as she bluntly asked her question.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed. He decided to humor the girl, for she was one of the least annoying in the class. "Hmm, I've noticed that girl's gaze, what's-her-name, lingers on everyone's legs and asses when dancing so she's your best bet," he spoke while subtly pointing to a curvy brunette across the room.

"Oh my God!" Harriet squealed. "That's Clara and she's like so hot. I've had a thing for her since she started here a few months ago."

This time Sherlock did nothing to hide his discontentment. "Do calm yourself, Harriet. You sound like someone being murdered."

"Hey if there was another guy in this class you would feel the same way!" She defended with her arms crossed. "And I've told you a million times, it's Harry not Harriet.