I don't own BBC, Sherlock, John, or Gattiss or Moffat. Darn.
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The latest case had taken them to a high mountainous region. They had spent almost a week following a rumor and tracking a serial killer, when they finally came to a dead end. Literally. Said murderer had forgotten is setting, and had been mauled to death by a starved mother bear. Sherlock was rather disappointed. John was rather pleased. He enjoyed nature, and enjoyed being somewhere that wasn't nearly as treacherous as Afghanistan. As a direct result of the time in the mountains, both men were more than a little pink in the skin.
John, having had this experience when he served, took to the burn with little complaint or complications. To say this of Sherlock though, well, that wasn't possible.
''Sherlock, will you just hold still so I can apply the aloe to your arm. You're liable to lose a lot of skin otherwise.'' John stated, his doctoring side coming out in full force. Sherlock was ever the childish patient, cranky and moody about the entire situation.
''No I will NOT, JOHN! What on earth makes you think I'd allow you to touch me, when I don't even want to be in my skin at present!" Sherlock brooded, inching away from John's hand. John rolled his eyes, following Sherlock's movement. Sherlock glared at his flatmate, practically growling as John pinned him down in his chair.
''Damn it, John! Leave me alone! I don't care about my skin falling off! It happens! Now for God's sake, leave me- AAAAAAHHHHH!" Sherlock was cut off by a cold gel being slathered across his red forearm. John laughed as he smoothed it over the detective's blotched skin. Sherlock squirmed uncomfortably underneath the weight of the doctor, before finally settling down and taking a pouting position in the chair.
''You are such a bloody baby, mate.'' John chuckled as he finished applying the green solution to Sherlock's arms. After he finished, John had turned to sit in his chair, readying his arms to do the same. Sherlock stood suddenly, and stomped to John's side of the room. John sat up a bit. With a swift motion, Sherlock's arm swung down to John's, his fist connecting with the raw flesh on the doctor's arm.
''BLOODY HELL, SHERLOCK! What is the matter with you!" John howled in pain, shooting his friend a deadly glare. Sherlock merely smirked, before heading into the kitchen to tinker with his experiments. John heard him mutter as he passed his chair.
''There, now we're even.''
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Yes, this actually happened between myself and my own personal Watson. Lol. I hope you found it as funny as I do in hindsight. Review! Please? Also, check out my other stuff! Please? Lol.