One shots (johnlock fluff mostly)

Bottle of red bottle of white

A/N: I was inspired by a song, okay so comment songs and ideas and I'll happily do ANYTHING!! I LOVE YOU ALL-Vania

They had had an exhausting case, the cabbie dead, and Sherlock sat on the ambulance tail gate with an orange blanket draped over his shoulders.

"They keep putting this blanket on me, why do they keep putting this blanket on me?" Sherlock asked irritated, plucking the material from his shoulder between his forefinger and thumb.

"Your in shock" Gavin replied uselessly with a shrug.

"I'm not in shock!"

"Yeah but some of the guys wanna take photographs" Geoff said with a smile and yet another shrug of the shoulders.

Then it came to the part of deciding whether anything that had been picked up from the bullet in the wall was of any use.

"The bullet they just dug out the
wall was from a hand gun. A kill shot over that distance from that kind of weapon - that's a crack shot you're looking for. But not just a marksmen, a fighter - his hand couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatised to violence. He didn't fire 'til I was in immediate danger, though. So, strong moral principles. You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service and nerves of steel--"

And then he made eye contact with the new flat share, and it all clicked into place.

"Actually you know what, ignore me"

"What?"

"Ignore all that, it's the- the shock talking"

"Where are you going?"

"Just need to discuss--- the rent"

And so he continued, he ignored Lestrades call.

"Now this man by my knowledge hasn't eaten for three days so we're going to dinner"

"And who the hell are you?"

"I'm his doctor"

"Yes, and only a fool argues with his Doctor"

They went to Angelo's after that, sat back in the same spot they had first, running still on calm adrenaline, smiling at each other. They were on the main course when a new song began to lay in the background.

A bottle of white, a bottle of red
Perhaps a bottle of rose instead
We'll get a table near the street
In our old familiar place
You and I-face to face

A bottle of red, a bottle of white
It all depends upon your appetite
I'll meet you any time you want
In our Italian Restaurant

Sherlock and John giggled quietly before John hooked his foot around the back of the detectives ankle and then used his other foot to hold it in place.

"Thankyou" Sherlock spoke softly.

"For what?" John asked confused as he rubbed the sole of his foot against Sherlocks calf affectionately.

"Everything" Sherlock said quietly, using his other foot to lock around John's.

"I should be thanking you as well then"

"Why?"

"You taught me how to breathe again"