One shots (johnlock fluff mostly)

Waking up

Phanaticplier this is the best way to thankyou, favourite author really; well here you are, this is my thankyou gift.

And in your honour, I hereby present:
This was a comment but it was too long and so I decided to post in my oneshots.

Sherlock groused from his sleep, an incoherent mumble of words as his head snapped up to take in the view around him. Living room, judging by the shadows caused by the sun just over the buildings opposite it must be around five o'clock, it's autumn, the sun sets quicker, temperature approximately 11'c to around 12'c. Lying on sofa, on back but always sleeps on front by choice. So he'd been placed here. Why?

He tried to push up from the sofa but felt a weight on his back. Light and airy, warm. Blanket. Move again and the blanket slides off him to the floor. Still tangled around his ankles. He'll sort that out later. Stretch neck. Clicks uncomfortably meaning he'd been here approximately over three hours.

Back arched and pushing away from the sofa, arms trembling under strain. Exhaustion or drugged? He hadn't taken any drugs by choice so he had been drugged if that was the case.

His arms trembled more and the left gave way, causing his body to lilt to the left and onto the floor with a thud between the coffee table and sofa. 'Great!' R thought sarcastically.

Groaning again at the sudden bluriness to his vision after hitting his head to the table then the floor he pulled himself to sit up straight .

Call for help. "Jawn?" John? Help? In a way more or less the same thing, if he called for help he'd still get john. Call again. Voice breaking, exhausted.

"Johnnn?" No reply but then a scuffle on the stairs, a thud and then the thundering sound as one ran down hell for leather.

"Sherlock?" John called out before he finally laid his darting eyes on his flat mate. "are you alright?"

"What happened?" Sherlock asked, his mind still fuzzy from sleep and hard surfaces.

"You. You great got, forgot to eat for four days whilst I was busy working and then I had to visit my sister, I knew leaving you alone was a bad idea." John sighed as he stepped around the table to Sherlock who was sat between the table and sofa.

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh" John replied and lifted Sherlock back onto the sofa with surprising strength and grace. Sherlock skin himself soon say back on the sofa, knees knocking against the coffee table and a blanket being draped over his shoulders. Orange blanket. Why was it orange? Ambulance. But not in hospital. John was taking charge. 'Only a fool argues with his doctor' Sherlock thought then chuckled to himself.

"Yes, and now you're having dinner" John said softly but their was something else in his voice. Almost like a warning. Sherlock looked up confused. John was a mind reader? "You're talking aloud again , as you do when you're tired, that's a good warning sign" John decided and went off to the kitchen.

He came back a short while later with some sort of broth. Smelt like Bovril. And bread. Typical army training. Good sustenance but short supplied as he'd been taught.

He sat down next to Sherlock, and one handedly pulled the blanket round Sherlock's shivering body. Since when had he been shivering?

"Mind still catching up?" John asked and pulled Sherlock into some of his warmth. It was quite cold in all fairness, the sort of breeze that if you sit around a little too long you'll feel goosebumps, that horrible type of chill that no matter how many layers you wear it will still creep up on you like a cold hand.

Sherlock let out a gasp as another shiver wracked his body, his spine tingling.

"Eat the soup, it will warm you up" John offered a he lifted the soup up and held the spoon to Sherlock's lips after blowing on it to cool it.

Sherlock opened his mouth and accepted the offering and felt it's affect almost instantly as it warmed his dry mouth, his neck and throat and then down his chest to his stomach which growled in some sort of request for more.

John chuckled quietly and lifted another spoonful up to his lips and Sherlock took it gladly, warming him further. John placed the bowl back on his lap and got some of the bread tearing a bit off, dipped it In the shiny liquid before lifting it up, careful not to drip with a napkin under his chin.

"The bread will help fill you better and give you energy. carbohydrates." John explained simply as Sherlock took the bread between his lips and chewed slowly. Tiredly.

Soon the bread was gone and they went back to the slightly cooler soup which John continued to feed to him as a doctor and a close friend.

When the bowl was finally empty, nothing but crumbs left, John took the bowl out to the kitchen, cleaned it and then made them both tea. He made quick work of it so he could get back to Sherlock who was still suffering from lack of energy and exhaustion.

One blue cup one white cup. John set down the white cup and lifted the blue cup to Sherlock's lips. Sherlock lifted his own hands to have some sort of control and internally thanked convection for having made the tea hot and conduction making the cup warm to himself icy hands.

"Bloody heck, Sherlock,  your hands are freezing!" John explained when their hands touched over the cup.

Sherlock took a few sips of tea before John set the cup down and brought Sherlock's hands in his own and hiding them from the cold claws that scratched at the soft skin.

John took the cup again and let him drink some more, all while keeping Sherlock's hands warm either by running them in his own palms or wrapping them around the cup as John supported it.

Eventually the tea was also finished and an empty cup lay on the coffee table. John guided Sherlock's hands to under Sherlock's arms where blood rushed to major arteries and was warmest. He then pulled the shock blanket tighter over Sherlock's shoulders before heading quickly off and fetching the duvet from his own bed.

Thin white sheets may look nice but they were nothing against the cold, no matter what Sherlock and the fashion police believed.

John pulled the duvet over Sherlock's shoulders and wrapped him up tightly and Sherlock melted into the every increasing warmth that enveloped him.

"Better?" John asked and wrapped his arm around Sherlock's shoulders so he could also take advantage of his body heat. Sherlock shivered from the warmth that made the goosebumps prickle and slowly disappear. His skin feeling like his own again.

"Get some sleep now Sherlock, I'll be here if you need me" John whispered to Sherlock who was not hanging between sleep and wake. When had he shut his eyes?

"Why--why would I need you?"

"No reason at all" John chuckled and Sherlock smiled to himself, a lazy smile, a warm smile. And then let the darkness take him by the hand.