Johnlock oneshots (2009, RDJ version)

Spilt lip

Watson was sat on a stool in a bar, sipping whisky from a glass, watching Holmes carefully. Even from afar, he could tell the detective was knowingly winding people up. He watched him pluck a glass straight from a man's hand, downing it in one swallow. The man was twice his size, drunk, and already in a bad mood. Watson sighed as Holmes was grabbed by his collar, a large hand being brought down to his face. The doctor stood up. "Holmes." He said, just loud enough to elicit the detective's attention. Watson shot him an exasperated look, eyeing the split lip and the blood trickling down Holmes' chin. Watson addressed the man holding him. "Sir, please put down my friend. He's had one too many and I'd like to avoid having to explain to our landlady why there's blood all over the carpets." His words were friendly and light hearted, but Watson's stern gaze and his hand firmly gripping his cane warned the man he wasn't to be messed with. He dropped Holmes, scowling at the pair.
"Always good to see you Watson." Holmes said. Watson frowned, wrapping his hand around Holmes' wrist, dragging him outside. "What?" The detective asked. "I could have taken him if I needed to."
Watson shot him an angry glare. Holmes blushed.
"You can't keep putting yourself in harm's way like that."
"I don't know what's gotten into the criminal classes, but lately there have been no interesting cases to keep me busy." Holmes said haughtily.
"Couldn't you find a less dangerous pastime? I'm sick to death of bandaging you up each night." Watson looked at Holmes' split lip. "Let's get home and I can take care of your lip." He started walking in the direction of Baker Street.
    "I enjoy being bandaged up by my doctor." Holmes mumbled.
   "What was that?" Watson asked, looking back with an inquisitive eyebrow.
    "Nothing." Holmes levelled with Watson, looping his arm through the doctor's, flashing him a smile.

    Before stepping through the door to 221b, Watson turned to Holmes.
    "Please try not to get blood everywhere." He wiped the dripping blood from Holmes' chin. "Mrs Hudson will genuinely kill us."
    Holmes grinned. "Your wish is my command."
    Watson sat Holmes down on the couch. He held Holmes by the chin, inspecting his lip. The detective went red at the contact.
    "Does this hurt?" Watson gently pressed his thumb to the cut.
    Holmes flinched. "No." He lied, just wanting Watson's hand to stay on his face. Alas, the doctor pulled away, retrieving a wipe to clean the cut.
    "I- I heard that saliva is the best thing for cleaning wounds." Holmes said softly.
    "Maybe in dogs, Holmes."
    Holmes swallowed. "Mmm..." He let his gaze wander, tracing the outline of the doctor's own lips, imagining them pressed against his. He sighed.
    Watson pulled his hand away. "That should do it. Try not to get into any more fights, Holmes, for me."
    Holmes' gaze lingered on the doctor's mouth. It was Watson's turn to blush, and he gulped, suddenly aware of their proximity. Holmes swallowed his nerves and pressed a soft kiss to the doctor's cheek, leaving a tiny trace of blood. "Anything for you, my dear Watson."

This was shit sorry