Johnlock Fluff And Oneshots

Dammit Sherlock!

The room was dark, except for the few streams of light beaming in through the window, the byproduct of a rather conveniently placed street lamp. It was one of those nights where Sherlock's mind was far to overactive, and try as he might, he couldn't seem to fall asleep. With an exasperated huff he threw the blankets off of his chest, piling then on the unsuspecting blogger asleep beside him. John stirred in his sleep, the extra blankets making him uncomfortable and sticky with sweat. He groaned in his sleep, rolling onto his stomach, his face pressed against his arm. Sherlock tensed up some, worried he had woken the poor boy beside him. The past few days consisted of midnight stake outs and obsessive stalking, followed by a shootout at an abandoned library. Needless to say, John was exhausted, but he would never admit just how drained he was, especially not to Sherlock's face. But with Sherlock, most things don't have to be spoken for him to catch on. He knew John had over exerted himself for his sake, and it ate ate at the stormy eyed man every day. After all these years have passed John still has the ridiculous urge to prove himself to the genius, as if Sherlock wasn't proud of his little blogger already. Sure he teased John at times, but he would be lying if he said he didn't need the other mans company. The blogger was, surprisingly smart, maybe not Sherlock level, but smart none the less. John caught on to things quickly and had learned a little bit of people reading himself. He was almost like the genius' protege, and Sherlock had high hopes for the man. 

Sherlock waited for a few moments, making certain the other was asleep before climbing out of bed. The wood tiles were frigid against his feet, squealing in protest with each step he took. Sherlock didn't think to much of this, after all he had checked to make sure John was sound asleep before he ventured out, so he figured once out of the bed waking the boy wouldn't be an issue. It was an honest mistake of a sleep deprived man. 

The obsessive squeaks woke the boy nearly instantly, him being a light sleeper ever since war. Yes he was only a doctor there, but he still had to be on guard, especially when the older people there would sneak into his tent at night and do things like duct tape him to the tables or set fire to his clothes. Needless to say the doctor learned very quickly it wasn't wise to drift to far out into the dream world.

"What on earth are you doing." He grumbled, opening a single eye to glare at the man who had woken him from his lovely sleep. Sherlock cursed himself for waking John, but turned to face the groggy man none the less.

"I'm just going to go to the kitchen and get something to drink. Do you want anything?" He asked, John thought for a moment before nodding.

"Can you bring me my sammich (I know john would never say sammich but shut up and let me say sammich okay crack heads?). Sherlock had ordered pizza the night before in celebration of finishing the case, but John passed out on the bed before it even arrived to the flat. Naturally the genius didn't wake him when it arrive because he "looked so peaceful sleeping like that" so instead he shared the pizza with miss Hudson. Luckily for John, earlier that day at around lunch time he had made himself a sammich, but had to wrap it up and ask Miss Hudson to put in the fridge as the genius and him rushed out the door.

"Sure thing." Sherlock agreed before saying his goodbyes and walking out the bedroom door, only to run right into the coffee table near the living room chairs. The half empty cups of tea clattered against the floor noisily, making the genius wince. John would definitely be grouchy if he saw the mess, especially since he told Sherlock to put that very same cup in the sink once the genius had finished it earlier that day. Sherlock shuffled to clean up the shattered glass, balancing the shards into his palm before tossing them into the trash can. Then he realized John could still find out he broke the glass if he looked into the trash bin, so he decided to take the trash out. With a heavy sigh he pulled the strings tightly closed and carried the bag to the front door. Just when he was a bout to open the door there was a soft knock, followed by miss Hudson's quiet voice.