Johnlock Oneshots

9 - Umbrella

Not only were the three of them doing better, but their families as a whole were improving. Eurus may be locked away, but she was sent gifts (fully checked by Mycroft to make sure they were safe,) and received irregular visits from random family members. Her parents went the most, probably attempting to catch up on lost time spent without knowing of their daughters existence. She had started talking now, it had taken little under a year to even force one syllable out of her but now she could hold solid conversations without scaring away too many people in the building. Obviously she was still incredibly smart and disturbed everyone with her ability to predict everything yet feel nothing, but it was a start.

Sherlock visited her every so often, however he seemed to leave more time between each trip as the months went by. John understood exactly how he felt as despite his words never truly forgave Mary for shooting Sherlock, so how could Sherlock possibly forgive Eurus for murdering his childhood best friend? Even though he couldn't remember him very well John knew Sherlock missed Victor Trevor from what little he knew of him, as if the repressed child version of himself had finally been allowed to mourn.

Johns family on the other hand was also steadily improving. His sister had finally dragged herself away from her drinking habit meaning she was able to see Rosie without John worrying about her safety. Sherlock had also met her for the first time a couple months ago, and although being repulsed by everything else about her couldn't find a problem with her mental stability; so if Sherlock was moderately happy John was happy. Things finally seemed to be settling into place after all these years, and although his life wasn't quite as he'd pictured it when returning home from Afghanistan he was content, which was all that really mattered in the end.

John was sat back in the chair that held so much sentimental value as it was seated across from the black leather chair belonging to the man he had grown to love. It was difficult with Sherlock, he wasn't used to living in a world where sentimentality was an everyday occurrence, yet slowly he was starting to love it just as much as he loved the cases and adventures. 5 years ago domestic bliss and Sherlock Holmes wouldn't have been accepted in the same sentence unless there was an insult in there too, however now they slotted together as if they were meant to be.

Suddenly thumps sounded louder and louder outside the flat exactly 17 times before the door was pushed open and said man strode through, his hair soaked from the heavy rain outside and his coat dripping on the floor. John smiled up at him in amusement as he took in the frown residing on his face, his curls now flattened on his forehead.

"I told you you'd need an umbrella." John said, laughing softly when Sherlock shot him a glare.

"I refuse to go anywhere near the item that's been hanging off my brothers arm his entire life."

"Your loss." John replied, watching as Sherlock peeled his coat from his shoulders. As he was about to place it on the coffee table John shot up and stopped him, grabbing the soaked layer before all his newspapers got ruined. He held it out in front of him as if it were a dangerous weapon as he walked to the bathroom to hang it on the radiator. Walking back he noticed Sherlock had also stripped of his blazer and was in the act of undoing his shirt... in the middle of their living room.

"Sherlock, you know you have a bedroom right." John said, frowning as he noticed the blazer strung over his newspapers despite his efforts to protect them.

"I'm perfectly aware."

"Then why aren't you using it?"