The first time it happened, John didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. He had purchased a sack full of apples the previous day from the Tesco's down the street, so he fully expected there to be at least one when he opened the refrigerator the next morning. He should have remembered that nothing should ever be expected out of the refrigerator in 221B, and to believe something as innocuous as an apple to be left unmolested was really too much to ask for. The apples were, of course, completely gone. Upon further inspection, John discovered that Sherlock hadn't even left the cores.
Overall, it wasn't the strangest thing Sherlock had done, however frustrating it may be. John gave the whole thing up as a bad job, making sure he closed the refrigerator before leaving the flat for work. He would, John decided, talk to Sherlock about using perfectly good apples as experiments after work, especially perfectly good ones that he had bought with his own money.
The next time it had happened, John had been kicked out of the flat by a tetchy Sherlock who complained that John was 'thinking too loud, and why doesn't he just go think loudly with Mrs Hudson and stop bothering him?'
John rolled his eyes, childishly stomping down the stairs as he left, hoping to further interrupt Sherlock's thought process. He felt slightly guilty when he saw Mrs Hudson poke her head out to see what the ruckus was, a fleeting emotion that vanished as he heard Sherlock shout that he should shut up.
"Having a little domestic?" Mrs Hudson asked, a knowing smile on get face.
"No, Mrs Hudson, we're not-" John began, interrupted almost immediately.
"Don't worry, you don't have to explain anything to me." Mrs Hudson waved a hand at John. "Sherlock does like to make things difficult. Come inside, I just baked an apple pie."
She held open her door, ushering John inside quickly. They made their way to Mrs Hudson's kitchen, conversing about Mrs Hudson's book club, and the married ones next door. The chatting stopped immediately when they entered the kitchen, and Mrs Hudson looked around in confusion.
"I could have sworn I left the pie right here." She gestured to the table. John walked over, placing his hand on the wood. A small patch of the wood was still warm, as if a pie had been sitting there only moments ago. John looked around, unsure of where the pie could have disappeared.
"Perhaps Sherlock can figure out where it vanished to." John joked after a second, causing Mrs Hudson to giggle. They spent around an hour chatting, albeit with no apple pie, and when John found himself ascending the stairs to his flat, he was in a much better mood.
"How was Mrs Hudson?" Sherlock asked from his position on the sofa. The brunet was still lying prone, though his eyes were open and fixed on John.
"She was well. The oddest thing happened though..."
"Oh?" Sherlock asked, his voice filled with interest.
"Mrs Hudson baked a pie, but it was gone before we got into her flat." John said.
"Perhaps she put it in her refrigerator?" Sherlock suggested.
"No, it was completely gone." John argued. "The funny thing is that her table was still warm where it had been, like it only vanished moments before."
"That sounds very interesting, John." Sherlock said, looking far too innocent. "Perhaps, when I'm not so dreadfully busy, we can help her discover what became of her apple pie."
John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock, who had resumed his 'thinking' pose. John hadn't told Sherlock what kind of pie Mrs Hudson had made, but he decided to brush it off. After all, if anyone could deduce what sort of pie was missing without seeing it, it would be Sherlock.
The third time it happened, however, John was at his wits end. He and Sherlock had finished an arduous case, and were just settling down to fill out some paperwork when he noticed that Sherlock was looking a bit peckish.
"Sherlock, you need to eat something." John said, earning himself a withering glare from the other man. John sighed, turning to Lestrade, a pleading look on his face.
"Be right back." Lestrade said, a sigh permeating his tone. He quickly left the room, returning after a few minutes of companionable silence, two Golden Delicious apples in his grip. Before John had time to reach for one, Sherlock had ripped them away from Lestrade, throwing them in the garbage bin.
"Sherlock, what the hell?" John asked, shock clear in his voice. The surprise only grew when Sherlock turned to him, panic and annoyance clear on his face.
"If you insist on feeding us poison, we're going to have to leave." Sherlock's words were directed to Lestrade, but he continued to watch John, as if he feared the good doctor would vanish if he looked away.
"They were just apples!" Lestrade was obviously bewildered, which only served to annoy Sherlock further.
"Then we're leaving. Contact me when you wish to apologise." Sherlock huffed, standing from his chair to storm from the room. John and Lestrade exchanged glances before John stood as well, giving the silver haired man a half shrug. He walked the familiar path from Lestrade's office to the front doors, hardly surprised to find out that Sherlock had taken off without him.
Sherlock was exactly where John expected to find him: lying on the sofa in 221B Baker Street. The man stubbornly refused to look at the ex-army doctor as he entered the room, and John grew more exasperated by the minute.
"What was all that back there?" John asked, his eyebrow raised.
"I have no idea what you're talking about John." Sherlock said, his voice flat.
"You yelled at Lestrade for giving us apples." John ground out, his left hand clenching and unclenching rhythmically. "In fact, for the past couple of weeks, you've been acting odd...well, odder than normal."
"You're being ridiculous." Sherlock insisted, one eye opening to glare at John.
"No, I'm not. You got rid of all the apples I purchased from Tesco's, that apple pie of Mrs Hudson's just magically vanished, and now the apples at the Met. What is going on?"
Sherlock stayed stubbornly silent, and John ran a hand through his short, blond hair.
"Fine. Don't tell me why you're being completely ridiculous." John snapped, turning on his heel to go to his bedroom.
"You'll leave if I don't get rid of them!" Sherlock said, sitting up, worry on his face.
"Sorry...what?" John asked, stopping in his tracks and turning to face Sherlock, all annoyance forgotten.
"A few weeks ago I was on a case." Sherlock began. "I hadn't eaten anything, so one of the idiots at the Yard brought me an apple even though I didn't ask for one. You had already gone home, so it was probably Lestrades doing. When I refused, they told me I was looking ill, then they told me 'an apple a day keeps the doctor away'. I didn't want to take any chances."
John burst into a fit of giggles, which only served to anger Sherlock further.
"It's hardly funny!" He hissed, and John had to bite his lip to keep his laughter in.
"You're right, it's not funny." John said, walking over to Sherlock and sitting down next to him. "And not true. Nothing could keep me away from you, you berk."
"John, while the sentiment-"
"No, shut up." John cut him off. "You obviously don't seem to get it. You've done a lot of shite things to me, including faking your suicide, and I'm still here, correct?"
Sherlock gave John a dubious look, but he nodded. "Yes, you are."
"Now, do you really think some measly apples could keep us apart?" John teased.
"Why, though?" Sherlock asked, looking conflicted.
"Why what?"
"Why do you stay?" The brunet looked at him, an eyebrow raised.
"Isn't it obvious?" John asked, mirroring Sherlock. When the detective shook his head, John did something he promised himself he would never do. Leaning forward, the doctor captured the taller man's lips in a kiss. It was soft and sweet, lasting only a few seconds before the blond pulled away.
"Does that explain it?" John asked softly, watching Sherlock's face for any signs of disgust. All he could see was surprise and wonderment, however.
"I…yes. Yes it does."
And to John's delight, Sherlock leaned forward to kiss him once more.
Later that night, John found himself curled up on the sofa with Sherlock, his head on the taller man's chest, violinist fingers carding through his hair. John shifted so he could look at him, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"I can't believe you got rid of all the apples to keep me around." He said, Sherlock's lips twitching in a small smile.
"It was an important endeavour, John. I must keep you around as long as I can." Sherlock said, looking down at John.
"An apple a day keeps the doctor away…" John mused aloud.
"But if the doctor is cute." Sherlock cut through John's thoughts. "Screw the fruit."
A/N: This was originally posted to tumblr. Based on an ask box prompt from an anon saying:
"Could you please write a Johnlock fanfiction where it's just really cute and fluffy and John is just lying on Sherlock with his head on Sherlock's chest and talking about how Sherlock threw away all of their apples because 'an apple a day keeps the doctor away' and Sherlock doesn't want John to ever leave. :3"
It was just way too cute not to write! I hope you enjoyed it!
Robottko