Oneshots

Hallucinations (Johnlock)

A/n: Okay, I'm a little more than obsessed.

JOHNLOCK IS MY LIFE, OKAY? DON'T LIKE DON'T READ.

Anywhoo...um.

Finished AoT. SIE SIND DAS ESSEN UND WIR SIND DIE JAGER!

Okay, well, um...bye humanoids.

I leave you this dog emoji to name in the comments.

So dog emoji didn't come up so name this star.

*

Sherlock studied at John. This was not the reaction he was expecting.

He had been expecting either a punch or a hug. Or both. But over time, things would go back to normal.

Except, now that he was thinking about it, he didn't know if he had expected that...or wanted it.

He'd even take a punch at this point.

It would be better than this.

When Sherlock revealed himself to John after 3 whole years of being dead, John just blinked at him, then went back to reading his book.

Sherlock had sat in his chair--which, surprisingly, was still across from John's--and began his studying. He had started deduced John a while ago, but stopped after the first two facts because it hurt too much.

Had he really had that much of an impact?

And why wasn't John reacting at all to him?

Sherlock decided he would get John's reaction out of him.

"John?"

John turned another page and ignored him.

"John. John. JAAAAWN."

John slammed his book shut and stood up. He shook his head and ran into...Sherlock's room? Why is he in there?

Sherlock followed him slowly. He opened the door just a crack.

"John?"

John groaned from under his duvet--Sherlock's duvet--and muttered, "Go away."

Sherlock walked into the room and sat down next to John on the bed. When he spoke, his baritone voice was soft.

"John."

John rolled over so he could face away from him. "Just disappear like you always do and leave me alone."

Sherlock was confused for a fraction of a second before realizing that John thought he was a hallucination. It hurt to see his blogger so sad.

"John, please," Sherlock said, his voice shaking slightly. He reached over and shook John lightly. John rolled back over and gazed at Sherlock's hand.

"How...?" John started, trailing off as he moved his gaze to Sherlock's face.

John sat up and poked him. "But...you're..."

Sherlock interrupted John's sputtering. "John, I am so sorry."

John met his gaze. "You...bastard."

"I had to."

"You had to?"

"You, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson were all going to die if I didn't."

John hugged him. "I missed you...so much."

Sherlock just rubbed John's back comfortingly (A/n: Did I spell that wrong?). This hug felt good.

John pulls away from the hug, smiling. "Sherlock Holmes, you were wrong!" John smiles wider. "Never thought I'd say that."

Sherlock frowns at him. "What?"

"A sociopath wouldn't care enough about me to come back. A sociopath wouldn't jump off the building in the first place. A high-functioning sociopath would care even less. So, you are not a sociopath. You just hadn't found the right people to care about." John explained.

Sherlock knew he was right, but he didn't really care. He sighed happily.

"Good to have you back," John added.

"Good to be back," Sherlock said truthfully.

Later that night, as he layed down in his bed--John had absolutely insisted that Sherlock get some sleep--he smiled at the ceiling. He smiled one of his rare,  honest-to-God smiles. Life is looking up, he thought.

They both slept soundly that night.