Oneshots

John Has The Flu (Johnlock)

So this is inspired by a oneshot I read on AO3 because why not

*uses vortex manipulator as an exit*
*comes back*

Oh it's set between "The Great Game" And "A Scandal In Belgravia"

Established Johnlock
Don't like don't read :3

*uses vortex manipulator as an exit and doesn't come back this time*

TS

oOo

*BANG* *BANG* *BANG BANG*

Sherlock is going to destroy that wall one of these days, John Watson thought wryly as he ran up the stairs with the milk.

Sherlock Holmes hasn't had a proper case in three days and as you can tell, he's getting a bit...antsy.

"Not my bloody wall again!" Mrs. Hudson yelled over more bangs and shouts of "Bored!"

"I keep telling him it's going to keep coming out of his rent, but it never seems to do anything. Could you talk to him, John?" she pleaded to John, who was already at the door. The bangs and shouts of "Bored!" continued on in the flat.

"I'll do my best, Mrs. Hudson," John promised her. He turned around and opened the door.

"Sherlock, stop that or no sex tonight!" John commanded, using Sherlock's military kink and desires against him.

Sherlock sighed and gave the gun to John. "Fine." His Majesty gracefully fell onto the couch and dramatically threw an arm over his forehead. He then proceeded to hastily unpack his violin and started playing.

John unloaded the gun without looking and while Sherlock was playing a really fast song on his violin (I'm too lazy to look stuff up rn so let's just pretend it's the Can Can), he quickly hid the gun. Sherlock didn't seem to notice.

John decided to make them both tea. He got as far as one step before he sneezed Loud into his elbow.

"Gesundheit," Sherlock said, shooting John a look and putting down the violin. "You've got a cold."

"Thanks, Sherlock, I had no idea." John said sassily, rolling his eyes. He sniffed and continued to walk toward the kitchen. A wall of sudden Sherlock stopped him. Sherlock stared at him, calculating and deducing. He put a hand on his forehand and frowned.

"Sherlock-"

"You have the beginnings of the flu. You need plenty of fluids and rest. Go lie down in our bed, John. I'll bring you some broth and a cold washcloth."

John blinked. "What? When did I get...oh."

[FLASHBACK - one day earlier]

John walked around aimlessly, just walking. He wasn't stressed or anything but he didn't have a book and Sherlock was in his mind palace (and we all know that can take hours). John had told Mrs. Hudson before he left that he was going for a walk in case Sherlock woke up. He smiled to himself fondly.

John turned a corner and walked three paces before he felt it. One ice-cold raindrop slithered it's way down his back. He shivered and wished he had brought an umbrella. Suddenly, it started pissing down rain and John nearly yelped. He looked up and realized he couldn't see that far ahead of him, maybe about a yard. He sighed and started running.

[FLASHBACK ENDS HERE]

John was about thirty minutes from Baker Street but because of the rain, it was nearly twice that before he was home.

Sherlock had helped him warm up with a long cuddle on the couch watching crap telly (after John had changed clothes, of course).

So now John is laying down in their bed (formerly Sherlock's bed) and waiting for his boyfriend to come with that washcloth.

John closes his deep blue eyes, just resting. Suddenly, something extremely cold is plopped down on his forehead.

John sighes contently. The soothing washcloth is countering his internal temperature (which, he realizes, was higher than it should be) and it felt wonderful.

John glances at his boyfriend. "Thanks."

Sherlock smirks. "You're welcome."

John looks over at his nightstand. There sat some broth, a glass of water, and some medication. John returns his eyes to Sherlock's galaxy-colored orbs. "You got all this for me?"

Sherlock blushes slightly and the smirk softens into a smile. "Of course. I'd be lost without my blogger."

John closes his eyes again and yawns widely. "Love you too."

Sherlock removes the washcloth for just a second to kiss the retired army doctor on the forehead. He then replaces the washcloth and whispers "Sweet dreams, John."

The flu is gone 3 days later. [We all know what happened then ;)]

A/N: Just a quick fluffy oneshot I found in my drafts. Decided to tweak it and post!

HAPPY LAST DAY OF SCHOOL!!!! If it's not you're last day of school, I give my condolences.

*happily dances away*