Johnlock Oneshots (fluff)

3) Bonfire Night

Word count: approx. 900
*John's POV*

I blinked forcefully to unblur my vision, suddenly feeling incredibly cramped and scared. Some sort of wood was above me, and I could barley move. I could faintly hear laughter and excited chatter, but I was more focused on my surroundings. Different types of wood - I couldn't tell what - were laid on top of me and to my sides, and black liquid dipped through the planks. I squinted at it, trying to identify it. Gasoline. I was in a bonfire. I became aware of blood on my head, presumably where I'd been knocked out, and tried to think back to what happened. My thoughts were disturbed by a seering heat as the wood was set alight, my screams drowned out by the cheers of the clueless audience. Tears pricked my eyes as I gasped for breath, my attempts to scramble out failing as my already injured body got warmer and warmer from the flames. A peice of timber next to me catching on fire sent me cowering back, the heat taking over my head and sending me falling limp on the ground. My breathing was limited and I blacked out, knowing that I'd probably die here.

.

*Sherlock's POV*

John. I need to get to John.

I leapt over the fence, seeing the blazing flames of the bonfire, knowing that my John was in there. Mary followed me close behind, determination filling us both. I pushed families and couples out of the way, not bothering to apologise at their angry yells, my focus solely on getting John back. I knew he was in there. The flames was excruciating against my face, but I clawed at the burning timber, Mary doing the same right next to me. The conversation of other people was just a ghost of background noise; paying attention to it would be stupid. My fingers protested against the fire, but I made them keep working, scrambling around until I found John. I caught a glimpse of his face and tore the wood away from the rest of the fire, Mary quickly joining me and us dragging him out.

"John! John!" I cupped his face in my hand, trying desperately to wake him up. My eyes watered and I knew I was shaking, fearing the worst. His breathing was shaky and slightly raspy. I was unaware of everything apart from John, waiting impatiently for him to wake up. His eyelids flicked open and he winced in pain, taking a moment to take in me and Mary looking worriedly down at him.

.

*John's POV*

I felt Sherlock's hand on my cheek, warmth bubbling into me like a drug. Not the type of warmth like the deathly heat of the fire, but the cozy, fuzzy, marshmallows-on-hot-chocolate kind of warmth. He gave me what he thought was a reassuring smile, but I could see through it to his fear and anxiety. He picked me up bridal-style and hailed a cab to take me home, sitting me up in the seat and stroking my hand softly with the pad of his thumb. For a high-functioning sociopath, he was really quite caring and empathetic.

We arrived at 221B Baker Street And Sherlock lifted me inside, leaving Mary to pay the cabbie. I'll be honest and say that I hadn't even noticed she was there until halfway through the drive, although to be fair to myself I am injured.

Sherlock set me down on the sofa, kneeling at my head and dabbing at my wounds with a disinfectant wipe from our first aid kit. Mary helped Mrs Hudson with making food and drinks, fussing around in the kitchen and talking about something to do with drugs, I'm not entirely sure what. I gripped Sherlock's hand that he wasn't using, him squeezing mine gently when I winced in pain.

.

*Mary's POV*

I busied myself gathering together a plate of biscuits, Mrs Hudson making tea for us all. I carried the plate into the living room, setting it down on top of the coffee table and smiling at Sherlock, who was now sat with John's head on his lap, stroking his cheek with his thumb. They really are adorable together; and being the best man at their wedding was an honour. I know I'm not a man, but their wasn't exactly a bridesmaid, so it was close enough.

Mrs Hudson pulled up two chairs for herself and I, which I accepted greatfully and handed everyone their tea. We drank and ate quietly, occasionally talking in a hushed voice in order to not overwhelm John. Once we had finished, I chucked Sherlock a blanket for them, as John had fallen asleep on his shoulder, and said my goodbyes, me and Mrs Hudson heading downstairs and then me hailing a cab back home.

.

*Sherlock's POV*

John looked adorable, fast asleep on my shoulder. Although he always looks adorable sleeping, so I suppose this was no exception. Not bothering to get up, I laid my husband and I down properly on the sofa, using the union jack cushion as a pillow and the blanket to wrap us up. A gentle breeze wafted through the slightly ajar window, soothing and welcome in the warm autumn weather. I held John close to me, and he burried his face in my chest. I placed a soft kiss on his forehead and we melted away into our deamlands, sugar and honey momentarily separated from the world of harsh crime we were so used to.