Johnlock Oneshots (fluff)

2) Morse Code

Word count: 565
*John's POV*

One thing I learned when living and working with Sherlock was morse code. It would often be useful to know it in cases, especially when people crying for help in morse was reported over to us for us to investigate. So of course Sherlock and I could read and speak in the code almost fluently, compared to other people at least. So, naturally, we would start saying things to each other at crime scenes - or just in public in general - in morse when we didn't want other people to know.

At first it was mostly Sherlock just telling me to do things, like ask around for something that should've been at the scene and was missing, until we "finally got together", as Mrs Hudson put it when she walked in on us cuddling on the sofa. Then it turned to quick little "I love you"s and compliments too, often getting confused looks from the rest of Scotland Yard, who are too stupid to work it out. Sherlock's words, not mine.

We were doing the usual, talking in morse code over a murder victim, when Lestrade's face suddenly turned from confusion at watching us to triamth.

"So that's why you always blink at each other so much! It's morse!" he grinned, watching as Sherlock's face turned pink, mine probably doing the same.

"Well, yeah," I replied sheepishly, trying to pretend as if it were obvious. I didn't know how much he had read; we were talking shit about Donovan and Anderson with the occasional complements and "I love you"s, as we so often did when Sherlock had already solved the crime and was bored.

"I didn't know you two were together," Greg smirked, making my face redden even more.

"We have been for a few months now, Gavin, I'm surprised you didn't notice," Sherlock's voice turned monotone as it did when he was talking to most people, and he stepped over the body's head to stand next to me.

"It's Greg, Sherlock."

"I'm surprised you didn't notice, Greg." he corrected himself, and took my right hand in his left one, using his other index finger to point out how the victim was killed. I squeezed his hand to get his attention and blinked at him in a certain pattern, some blinks longer than others.

.- -- .- --.. .. -. --. / .-- . .-.. .-.. / -.. --- -. .

He smiled at me softly, one of those genuine smiles that are apparent in the person's eyes as well as their lips. Greg coughed to rudley interrupt the moment, and we turned to face him.

"So sorry to disturb your very obvious flirting, but we do need to get the DNA testing done in here to find the murderer," he said, moving out of the way to let a crew of people through the doorway. Sherlock sighed dramatically and pulled me out of their way, flipping off Anderson as we walked outside. Donovan saw us holding hands and strutted over.

"Didn't realise anyone would date the freak," she started, looking us up and down judgingly, "did he pay you?"

"Don't bother," I spat, turning away and rubbing my thumb over Sherlock's knuckles soothingly. He pretends not to care about what people think, but I know that he does really. He strode along next to me, slightly tense until we reached the main road and hailed a cab, where he then relaxed at my side, leaning his head on my shoulder.