One shots (johnlock fluff mostly)

Sheets make you majestic

"Sherlock, you can not walk around in nothing!" John sighed, seriously he loved the mad idiot but there were chemicals and dangerous things that could hurt him that one layer of clothing would have been enough and there was then the fact that anyone could walk in at any given moment and Sherlock seemed unfazed by that.

Yes they'd made love so seeing the detective in all his freckled alabaster glory was hardly something new, not even arousing in particular but juts the mere idea of it in general, was a but too much to handle.

John went in to Sherlock's room, whipped the sheet of the bed and gathered it in his arms before heading back out to the living room.

"Sherlock get over here" John sighed but there was a slight smirk on his face.

"Busy John" Sherlock responded.

"Yes, reading that dancing men code, doesn't mean you can't wear something. Besides it's not exactly warm in here, you could get ill."

As John was saying this he stepped closer to Sherlock who's back was turned to him and unraveled the sheet, the gentle flow against the floor almost dream like. The white entrancing to the human eye like light at the end of a tunnel.

Something so pure, it was decidedly dangerous.

Like the man that stood in front of him.

John lifted his arms and the sheet made no sound before he grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders, sheet wrapping around effectively and exposed him firmly in said item, bound tightly and efficiently.

A roman god in a gleaming sash, all he was missing was a golden halo made to look like ivy. Like a piece from Fibonacci. The only thing that took away the Malaysia grace was the groan of annoyance that turned to a yelp when John reached around his stomach from behind and tickled his belly through the thin sheet.

"Alright, this only though, clothes are boring" Sherlock offered as some sort of truce instead of being tickled to a screaming giggling mess he always became.

"Are clothes so boring when mrs Hudson comes up stairs and sees you starkers?" John laughed.

"She's seen a lot already, I'd be nothing compared" Sherlock pointed out with a smirk.

"Hmm, what about lestrade, or even Mycroft" John said with a knowing smile to which Sherlock shivered and his face twisted into a grimace.

"Besides, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you much longer" John decided, sliding his hands around the detectives waist and pulling him flush against him. He could feel the detective chuckle quietly, his chest rumbling through the sheet.

"We need to keep it a bit professional, this is practically the reception of every crime we take, people wander in and out, all the time in fact, do you really want someone to see you leaving around, you were pretty shy when it was just me" Sherlock smiled at the memory.

In a way, walking round as he was was more of an attempt to bring back the arrogant confidence he used to carry so naturally. But John made the confidence shatter, pulling him apart and tearing him down to raw bone, to who he truly was beneath the mask.

John seemed to read him mind because he gave him a comforting squeeze and settled his hands over Sherlock's belly, no longer hollow and a concave in his form but slightly plush and soft. But yet still slim and slender, his suits fitting him better with his more filled out form.

John slipped his hands up to Sherlock chest, a slither of skin between the sheet corners and glowing against the white material.

He pressed a kiss to Sherlock's nape, the protruding bone at the top of his spine. He then trailed his kisses along the top of Sherlock's left shoulder and down across his shoulder blade, back to the right to repeat the act in the other side.

Sherlock seemed to glow happily under his ministrations and John could almost feel him smile.

"John, what are you doing?" He asked in the softest voice, a voice he would never let anyone else hear.

"Loving you, kissing you, breathing you in, feeling your heartbeat, knowing you're alive against me and so, so beautiful." Between every few words was a kiss pressed to a new piece of skin. The reveal of the freckle on Sherlock's neck hidden behind curls usually was also kissed delicately, dry caring kisses.

He turned Sherlock around and began trailing kisses from the detectives right shoulder to his collarbone and then along his clavicle and throat. And each bit of skin that showed.

He then ran his kisses down Sherlock's biceps and kissed delicately at his inner elbow and the back. Running down his forearm and kissing his wrist as though he were valuable before kissing his palm, then turning his hand over and kissing each individual digit, he did the same to the other arm and then looked up at Sherlock who was blushing a light pink.

A smile that portrayed awe and disbelief written across his features like poetry on young parchment.

"I love you" John whispered before pressing a kiss to Sherlock's nose then up to his brow and over his left eye down his head to his cheekbone and along his chin and up the other side.

He kissed just below Sherlock's mouth, then just above. Then to the right corner and then the left.

Sherlock whined a little and John carded his hand into Sherlock's hair and then his right hand firmly to Sherlock's right hip. "Kiss me now?" he asked.

John then pulled him in close and brushed their mouths together gently, he continued to do so until Sherlock was practically melted against him.

"My precious detective"

"John"