Human Error_404 [Johnlock]

3

[673 words]

         John woke up in the middle of the night, hearing shuffling downstairs and then a muffled crash. He stood up quickly and ran down to see Sherlock's door still closed. But he could hear Sherlock moving and whining in his sleep. He opened Sherlock's door, seeing him on the floor shaking. John gasped and was on his knees slowly helping Sherlock up.

"Sherlock.." John whispered. Sherlock didn't answer instead fell back into his bed with the help of John. John was also half asleep, and falling spawled out at the foot of Sherlock's bed.

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John woke up next to Sherlock somehow, their faces inches apart. John sucked in a breath and slowly moved out of the bed.

"John are you awake?" Sherlock's voice somehow deeper with the morning grogginess. John shivered at the sudden cold air that hit his skin.

"I am." John stood awkwardly, not sure what to do. Sherlock opened his arms, the blanket falling off his shoulders to his lower abdomen.

"Come back to bed, John." Sherlock frowned and motioned his fingers for John to go to him.

John grew red and scratched the back of his neck, Sherlock was lying there shirtless, his arms out for John to slip into. He wanted to, so why couldn't he do it?

John woke up again, on the floor of Sherlocks room, his arm folded under him as he groaned. Sherlock was still asleep when john checked the time. "5:16 am." He spoke to himself. Recalling his short lived dream, he flushed a soft red. He hadnt yet come to terms with his feelings toward the detective.

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Sherlock out Johns tea next to his chair and hummed, practically dancing around.

"Theres a case." He suddenly stopped dancing and swiftly faced John with a wide smile. John nodded and looked back to his new laptop, fixing the preferences and uploading his photos back into it. "Will you go with me?" Sherlock looked at John with an intense stare but then turned away frolicking around the living space of the flat.

They arrived at the crime scene, serveral bodies lay in the bushes below a small window on the second floor. Sherlock took the lead and weaved through the people inside the house up to the room the murders took place in.

When John stepped inside, he saw the blood and the scratches on the walls. He saw the footprints and the
broken window lock. Sherlock began deducing the crime, taking in small details and connecting the dots to solve it. But he still wasnt sure, and since it was dark out they decided to continue in the morning with Lestrade.

Sherlock and John arrived home and Sherlock sat in his chair, deep in his mind palace. John made tea and sipped it, looking over Sherlocks concentrated form. He glanced down to Sherlock's loosely tied shoes. A devious smirk appeared on johns face as he bent down to tie the two shoes together.

After a few minutes, Sherlocks eyes flipped open and he jumped up, not yet aware of his shoes. "John! I know who the murdeRE-" Sherlock tripped and landed face first into the floor of their shared flat, making a loud thump. John stood laughing hysterically. Smiling widely as Sherlock slowly resurfaced from his fast decent. "John was this you." Sherlock looked at his friend with an emotionless glare, to which John replied with an innocent smile.

"I dont know what youre talking about, Sherlock." He started laughing again as Sherlock kneeled to untie his shoes. Within a second, John was on the floor beneath Sherlock's smaller frame. As he straddled Johns hips he sat on his lower abdomen.

"John." Sherlock gave him a stern look. John's face flushed and he mentally tried to stop himself from getting hard. He wasn't laughing now, instead he was flustered and his mouth dried.

"Sherlock." John tried to match Sherlock's intensity but failed, letting a small whimper escape on accident. "Um, er." John quickly pushed Sherlock off him and headed up to his room.