Consider love - A Johnlock

30. Thousands of kisses

Sherlock and John had to stay in the park for twenty minutes, explaining the situation to the police, like what happened today and two days ago in the surgery. The ambulance also came for taking care of Jim's shot wound in his hand. They also handed John and Sherlock a blanket for the shock. Sherlock just threw it back to the paramedic in annoyance, spitting out some rude words. John rested the blanket on his lap, being the friendly one like always.
Lestrade and Mycroft also came to check on the duo. Lestrade because it was his work, and Mycroft because he was worried for his little brother.

After they spoke to the police they returned back home, back to 221b Bakerstreet. They entered the flat. Both glad to be back home. John hung his jacket at the coatrack with a content sigh and immediately a wide smile appeared on his lips as he felt warm thin arms surround him. Sherlock was holding him from behind and nuzzled his head in John's neck. John turned around, smiling fondly at Sherlock. One of those smiles Sherlock never can get bored of. Sherlock smiled back as they were looking into each other's eyes deeply. Sherlock could see the tiredness in John's eyes. He felt a pang of guilt at the thoughts that he caused this to his student. Sherlock bent down for a slow gentle kiss, kissing those soft lips, feeling John smile through it. He then pulled back, lips only an inch apart from each other's.

"You're tired. Go rest on the sofa, I'll prepare dinner for you." He said mildly, caressing John's flushed cheek with his thumb. John's eyes widened, not believing what Sherlock just said. Sherlock rolled his eyes at John's look of disbelief.

"What?" John blurted out with a grin. Sherlock pursed his lips together and lifted John's chin upwards with his finger, trailing this finger over John's bottom lip.

"You heard me." Sherlock pointed out with a smirk.

"You don't have to make me dinner," John said quietly, knowing Sherlock was doing this because he was feeling guilty.

"I want to." Sherlock assured. "You deserve warm food instead of dry food." Sherlock said with a soothing voice. John smiled brightly and pecked Sherlock's lips, biting Sherlock's lip teasingly as he pulled back.

"You want me to help?" He insisted, placing his hand palm against Sherlock's chest.

"Nope." He said popping the p and stole another kiss from John. They then separated. Sherlock lingering into the kitchen and John flopping down onto the big sofa. He wrapped himself into the woolen blanket and laid himself down, closing his eyes, relaxing with a smile plastered on his lips. He was feeling happy. He couldn't describe the feeling he felt at that moment. He clearly felt the butterflies fly in his stomach again. They never leaved, but right now, they were bumping furiously against his stomach. But this time, John didn't need a doctor to cut open his stomach. He loved the feeling that he could kiss Sherlock whenever he wanted, and he adored the feeling from the butterflies every time he met those lips.

Sherlock rummaged through the cupboards until he found the pots he needed. Most of them were full with dust layers. Since that Sherlock never cooked a cooked meal in his flat. Ms. Hudson always prepared it for him downstairs. He filled one pot with water and set it on the stove to boil the potatoes. He then searched for vegetables and found a jar with carrots. He put it inside the cooking pot and placed a spoon in it for stirring it later.

After that he started peeling potatoes. When he finished with the potatoes he put it inside a pot filled with water and salt. While he was waiting, he walked over to John who obviously fell asleep. Sherlock placed a little white candle on the small table in front of the sofa, lighting it and kissed John's forehead before returning into the kitchen. Going back into the kitchen, Sherlock heated up the fry pan, placing a little oil in it and waited until it was ready. After that he laid the meat in the pan.