One shots (johnlock fluff mostly)

Wounds heal, scars fade

A/N:comment if you would like a part two to this!!

"Oh John, tut tut tut, I never thought you'd be the man to cheat on his wife" Mary sneered, sarcasm dropping off each word like melting ice poles.

"To be honest, neither did I, yes I kissed him, and no I didn't honk I'd ever be the man to cheat on his wife, but I'd never thought you'd be the woman to shoot my best friend" John growled.

"Best friend?" She laughed, "the Freak probably doesn't even know what a friend is, how much does he pay you?"

"You know Mary, I don't like your attitude, get out of our flat!" John demanded, his voice was low.

"Why should I listen to you?" Mary spoke low, contemplatively, reaching around to her back and pulling out a small pistol. A Bauer Automatic.

"Look, alright, yes I love him, and I thought maybe, I loved you but this marriage couldn't last, especially after what you did to him. I just--I can't Mary." He sighed, pinched at the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut.

It was at that moment, the sound of movement from down the hallway caught both of their attention. The sound of Sherlock leaving his bedroom.

"Whas'goin'on?" Sherlock slurred, his voice deep from sleep.

"Sherlock, go back to bed, I need to deal with this alone" John said softly, his eyes gentle towards the blue silky form standing behind Mary, her gun just out of sight.

"John?" Sherlock questioned, but then as soon as he was at Johns side and turned to look at Mary, he saw it. The gun. "I don--"

"Sherlock, go back to your room, I've got this" John warned and placed his hand on the small of Sherlock's back, pushing him gently away.

It reminded John of a few days prior, where he was tired and running off adrenaline after a long case, Sherlock had missed deaths grasp by a foot and emotions were over flowing, flooding through Johns veins.

He'd grasped onto Sherlock's river soaked form, pulled him in by the lapels and kissed him deeply, he relented slightly when Sherlock froze against him, but moved his lips slowly when Sherlock came to life underneath him and his hands scrappled for purchase before eventually clinging to Johns jacket for fear life.

He's run a hand up into Sherlock's curls and the detective had gone weak in the knees, stumbling slightly before John wrapped his arm round his waist to hold him up and in the process bringing Sherlock even tighter against him. He eventually pulled his head back, looking Sherlock in the eyes and brushing a soothing hand across his hair again.

"Let's get home yeah?" He'd asked him quietly, still holding tightly to Sherlock's shaking form, a faint blush on his cheeks and his lips slightly reddened. Sherlock nodded and John let his arm fall from his waist.

Sherlock attempted to walk but then stumbled. "Weak in the knees huh?" John laughed and slipped his arm around the detectives waist as they walked home. Sherlock blushed harder.

John, however was brought back to the present when Sherlock refused to move and turned to face him, his back towards the gun and Mary and his front towards John, fear flashed across his face replaced with his usual cold monotone.

Mary held the gun firmly, before stepping forward, pressing the gun firmly to the base of Sherlock's spine.

If she shoots he'll either die or be paralysed, he won't walk again, Sherlock please don't do this, "not again"

"You really would choose him over me, when I was there to take you in, the broken soldier who's friend committed suicide and left him to drown" Mary hissed, as Sherlock stood taller no matter the pain that sprinkled his face when she dug the gun harder through the nightgown.