This is a drabble based on some prompts on tumblr. I don't know yet if there will be more. (My tumblr is gallifreyan-detective if anyone is interested)
Disclaimer: The BBC owns Sherlock
Happy reading!
"You're lucky I'm here. I'm not sure you'd know how to deal with this."
John was carrying a first aid kit in his hands as he entered the living room of 221B, Baker Street.
When the ex-soldier had come back to his flat minutes earlier, he had found the younger Holmes' brother lying on the couch, a large burn on his right hand. John had been immediately worried, but it had turned out that the major problem was Sherlock's boredom. The gun he used to fire the wall with had suddenly backfired, and the result had been a bullet in another wall, along with this burn on Sherlock's hand. Sherlock was still on the couch now, looking absolutely annoyed with the whole situation.
"It was actually your fault, John," the detective said and rolled his eyes at his flatmate.
"Oh yes of course it was," the doctor replied sarcastically. He opened the kit and took the dressing he'd need to bandage Sherlock's hand. "Can you please explain to me how this is any of my doing?"
"Simple. If you hadn't left I wouldn't have been bored, and thus I wouldn't have had to use the gun."
John applied the dressing on Sherlock's hand, careful not to touch the wound in a wrong way, but kept a good grip on his wrist when Sherlock flinched at the contact with the dressing.
"You're just being ridiculous here, Sherlock," John shook his head. He finished his work on Sherlock's hand, turning it over to be sure the bandage would stay. When he was assured it was all good, he realeased his flatmate's hand. He got up, and as he walked out with the aid kit, he turned over and smiled, "But I, too, am glad to be back home."
Sherlock grumbled something as a response. And unknown to John, Sherlock's lips twitched upwards.