Had this little blurb of Johnlock fluff stuck in my head all day. This isn't a specific episode, just a moment in a random case. Enjoy and review!
Sherlock furrowed his brows, staring intently at the white board in front of him. On the white board was a list of characteristics of a particularly vicious homicide that Lestrade had requested the genius' help with. In this case, "help" had consisted or Sherlock running around questionable back alleys for two days, then staring at a board for three hours while John sat in the corner quietly and watched. Lestrade entered the office, take away bag in hand.
"Sandwiches. Help yourselves." Lestrade offered, taking his seat behind his desk. John eagerly did just that, pulling a decent looking chicken sandwich and napkin out of the paper bag.
"Sherlock, there's chicken here, want one?" No response. John sighed, preparing for an argument, "Sherlock, I know you haven't eaten since the case started, and that was two days ago. You need to eat."
"Not hungry" Sherlock muttered, not looking up. John huffed, aggravated. How the hell the detective managed to focus on such a drastically empty stomach the doctor did not know. It didn't make sense, and sure as hell not healthy. Determined to get at least something on his stomach, John walked over and stood between Sherlock and the board. Sherlock looked up, startled and annoyed at being interrupted. John held out the sandwich.
"Take a bite."
"Get out of my way, I need to see."
"Not until you eat. Your brain needs fuel. " Sherlock made to get up, but John pushed him back down and sat on him.
"Let me up John, I need to focus."
"Not until you take a bite." Sherlock glared at the smaller man in his lap, then at the offending sandwich being offered to him.
"You know digestion distracts me."
"Passing out from malnutrition is pretty damn distracting too. Just take one bite, it will help you concentrate."
"I'm not hungry! Why would I eat when I'm not hungry?"
"To make your boyfriend feel better." Sherlock pouted.
"Oh, really? Is that what a relationship is, guilting one's partner into eating unneeded chicken sandwiches?"
"For fuck's sake, just eat the damn sandwich, Sherlock. He won't leave you alone until you do." Lestrade groaned irritably. The last thing he wanted to do while a killer was on the loose was listen to John nag his neurotic partner. His head was pounding already.
"Your input is not required, Lestrade." Sherlock commented irritably, eyeing the sandwich. Sensing he was about to get his way, John held the sandwich up to the detective's slim mouth.
"One bite. Please? Just one and I'll leave you alone." Sherlock sighed dramatically before giving in and allowing John to shove the sandwich into his mouth. He took a bite and sat petulantly with it in his mouth, a bit of lettuce poking out from between his lips. John smirked. "Chew and swallow." Sherlock complied, rolling his eyes, then stuck his tongue out when he was done.
"All done, Mummy. May I be excused?" He teased, exasperated, but not angry.
"Yes, thank you." John planted a chaste kiss on his forehead and made to get up, but Sherlock wrapped his arms around the smaller man's waist and held him there.
"Stay where you are, I think better when I'm comfortable. I memorized the list two hours and fifty seven minutes ago anyway. " John smiled and settled more comfortably into his lap, delving into the sandwich in his hand. Lestrade rolled his eyes and turned back to his computer. They really do suit each other he thought to himself fucking annoying as they are.