(A Sociopath's Guide to Flirting with your Flatmate)
Whale hai dere. This is my first Sherlock fic so you wanna let me know what you think? ;)
Anyways, this one-shot is dedicated to my bestie Kort. this is some cute and short Johnlock fluff for you! Love you dear and I hope you feel better soon! xx Alyssa
Gay ships are yay ships. So don't be raining on my OTP (Obsessive Teen Parade!)
DISCLAIMER- If I owned Sherlock, Johnlock would've been official in the first episode. Hmm, maybe that's why I DON'T own it...
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Sherlock awoke to the sound of a loud, raspy cough.
"John?" No answer except for another bout of coughs. A sigh. "John!" Louder this time. Even more coughing, and then a hoarse voice no louder than a whisper.
"Yes?" Another sigh. He was going to have to get up, wasn't he? A groan and then Sherlock Holmes was up and headed down to see John. Several short seconds later, there was a hesitant knock on his bedroom door.
"Go away, Sherlock." John croaked wearily, and of course Sherlock came inside. He didn't know what he expected to see-but it wasn't John lying down snuggled in his covers with a sickly pale complexion and a bright red nose.
Despite his claim of having no feelings, he felt something flutter in his heart. Sick John was just so...adorable. An abomination of a word, and yet it was the only one he could think of to describe his blogger. Just so long as John didn't know that.
Slowly, he sat on the edge of his bed, calculating blue eyes for once a gaze of compassion. "Is there anything I can get for you?" he asked, a soft note in his deep baritone.
Surprise registered on the doctor's features. Since when was Sherlock compassionate and caring about others? "Erm. Well, I would like some tea...?" He let his voice trail off uncertainly, unsure of how the consulting detective would respond.
"Right. Um, I'll go use the kettle. Would you like some biscuits with it?" John started, his eyes wide, expression one of utter shock. "Erm..did I say something wrong?" Now Sherlock was as confused as John. Was he doing this compassion thing right? Why did he care if he was or not?
John shook his head, quickly. "No. Not at all, Sherlock. I'm just thankful, and quite frankly, surprised at your compassion. For a self-proclaimed sociopath, you're doing an awful job of not showing feelings." There was a hint of teasing in his voice that made Sherlock's stomach swell.
"Oh really? So this must be how you normally feel around others then? 'Oh look, a person! I must show compassion for them now!'" His voice went high in a mock imitation of John, and he was proud of the blush on the doctor's cheeks. Wait...what? Was he just...flirting?
Sherlock supposed that in his own, twisted mocking way that yes, he was. He, Sherlock Holmes was flirting with another man. And the strangest part? He liked it.
JXSJXSJXSJXSJXSJXS
It was past noon, Sherlock having just asked Mrs. Hudson to make John some chicken noodle soup. Was it cliche? Perhaps, Sherlock mused, but whatever could help his doctor get healthy quicker was worth it to him.
"Erm...Sherlock, I was-" John's voice was cut off by Sherlock whipping open the bedroom door.
"Whatever you need John, I'll get it for you. But this is important. Eat your soup and drink the orange juice. I hate seeing you sick." Sherlock fussed, puting a hand on John's temple to see if he had a temperature. John felt himsef leaning into the touch...what? He shook himself just as his Consulting Detective shook his head.
"John. Jawwwwnn! You have a fever! Let me get a thermometer."
Sherlock left the room hurriedly, and John stretched his aching limbs. A shiver wracked his body, and he felt his teeth chatter. He would've liked to pretend that Sherlock taking care of him like this didn't faze him. But it did. The tender, gentle way he treated John was a sign of the side of Sherlock that he usually kept hidden. And that side appealed to him in more ways than one. What he didn't understand was, why him? What made him so special that he was the only one to see Sherlock Holmes' emotional side?
His musings were cut short by the returning detective with a thermometer and a steaming bowl of soup. John looked at it hungrily, eyeing the man-er, soup. What?
Setting the bowl down, Sherlock glanced down at John, his chiseled face impossible to read, as usual. John found himself gazing into those blue-green eyes, getting lost in their oceany depths. He snapped back quickly. Since when were his flatmate's eyes dreamy like the ocean?
It suddenly clicked. John liked Sherlock. In that way. It seemed that all his claims of being 'not gay' were futile. He may be 'not gay' but it definitely didn't apply with Sherlock.
Reaching to grab the bowl, he was aware of the shaking of his hand. He suddenly felt I possibly hot, and he had a feeling that it wasn't all caused by the fever. Sherlock had noticed his shaking hand too, and had reached out to ladle some soup on the spoon. Sherlock slowly brought the spoon to John's lips. He was literally spoon-feeding him!
John felt color flare upon his cheeks, and was so preoccupied with his embarrassment that he almost missed Sherlock's muttered comment.
"He's even cuter with a blush." Wait. What?
"What...what did you just say, Sherlock?"
The reply came with a small embarrassed smile and a hint of blush dusting his cheeks too. "You heard me, John."
What happened next may have been slightly fever-induced, but John would never know or care the reasons behind it. The only thing he was aware of was Sherlock's soft lips on his own, and he fell this eyes flutter closed. Sherlock's hand was cupping his face, and stroking his cheek gently. John's arms were wound around Sherlock's neck and he smiled into the kiss because oh, this was perfect. This had to be the best sick-day John had ever had.
There. Done. Cute fluff galore. Whoever reviews gets their choice of a sick!John or sick!Sherlock to take care of! xxx