Johnlock Oneshots (fluff)

22) Wear the Hat

Word Count: 662
*John's POV*

"I don't want to." I huffed impatiently at my flatmate's stubbornness, still holding the deerstalker out to him.

"Sherlock," I put on my best warning voice, "if you don't put it on, we'll just be yelled at more by the press." He rolled his eyes at me and crossed his arms defiantly.

"No."

"Sherlock."

"John."

"Wear. The Hat."

"Never."

"Sherlock! We need to go, just put it on!"

"Noooooo."

"Why not?"

"It looks stupid. Why don't you just wear it?"

"Because then all the headlines would be "Sherlock Holmes' stupid little doctor man who follows Sherlock Holmes around wears the Sherlock Holmes hat" and I don't really fancy being called a confirmed bachelor three hundred times in another article!"

"Ughhhhhh," Sherlock whined. Nevertheless, he snatched the cap out of my hand and put it on reluctantly. I smiled gratefully and probably also quite impatiently at him and finally unlocked the door to head outside.

The bustle was intense, as it always was, reporters and photographers screeching for a quote in their paper or a pretty picture. I always worried about Sherlock getting overwhelmed in this situation, but luckily he never seemed to find it too stressful most of the time. Cameras snapped and flashed in our faces, and I stood close to Sherlock, putting on my best military posture. Microphones waved around, all clamouring to get to Sherlock and occasionally me, various questions and requests being yelled at us that I always ignored. I looked up at my detective, and my neat little smile faded immediately into a Sherlock-you-disappoint-me frown.

"Sherlock. Wear the damn hat PROPERLY." I commanded him, who had flipped it sideways so the ear flap things covered his face. I could see him grinning stupidly under the fabric. I couldn't help but smile and feel all fluttery inside at his lively eyes.

"Uncover your face!" a reported yelled, quite rudely actually, but enough for me to pull Sherlock down to my level by his scarf and hold his head whilst I turned the deerstalker the right way round again. I was suddenly very conscious of the camera shutters and muttering among the press as I readjusted his curls to look better. He stared directly into my eyes, a completely neutral expression on his face which made me blush slightly. I avoided his eye contact, a lump in my throat and my heart beating just a bit too fast.

"There," I grumbled after a minute or so, now definitely blushing quite obviously. "Are we almost done here?"

"Almost, John," Sherlock smirked, standing taller again and placing his hand on my shoulder.

"How long have you and Dr. Watson been together?" A reported near Sherlock managed to ask. I felt myself blusher harder.

"We're not--" I protested, but Sherlock kept a firm grip on my shoulder and a dickhead grin on his pretty lips, leaning into the outstretched microphone.

"Four years now. We're very happy," he was clearly holding back a laugh, but unfortunately was quite good at it and the reporter would definitely be quoting that in her paper, fully thinking he was serious.

"Mr. Holmes, do you plan on furthering your relationship with Dr. Watson anytime soon?" a different reporter asked. I just stood there at this point, glaring up at Sherlock as he clearly enjoyed himself very much.

"Yes, I'm planning to propose in the spring, and then we want an Autumn wedding." he smiled innocently. After ten or so more minutes of this, I pulled his back inside by the hand.

"Come on, love, we have things to do," I taunted back, locking the door again behind us and dragging Sherlock upstairs to our flat. It was his turn to go all pink now, as I refused to let go of his hand for 30 or so unnecessary seconds longer. I let him linger by the sofa whilst I made us each tea, genuinely smiling to myself now. Someday this would all be real.