N/A: I have to get my wisdom teeth out in like a week ;~; sad inspiration for a funny story with Johnlock. And I'm drinking ale. random

"Jaawwwwn," the aforementioned man looked up from his computer and winced inwardly. Had this become a new nickname of his? If so, he didn't like it.

"Sherlock. If you need something, get your sodding butt up and get it yourself!" he yelled into the other room. There was a series of thudding footsteps, unlike his roommate's usual ones that were so soft he could sneak up on him.

"John...it hurts," he complained and instantly John was aware and paying full attention to his friend. If he was complaining about pain, it had to be bad since he had a very high pain threshold. Sherlock was in a suit and looking rather pitiful, rubbing his jaw and anxiously watching him.

"Let me see. Is it in your mouth?" John pulled his friend's cold pale hand away from his mouth.

"Yes...," he groaned.

"I can't see anything, but you should go to a dentist," he advised him, peering into his mouth. "Wait...what are these lumps?" he experimentally prodded a lump of gum far back in the detective's mouth.

"Owwww," he wailed and pulled away, but John had seen enough. There were four equal sized lumps on bottom and top corners of his jaw and he had done a quick count of his teeth.

"Your...wisdom teeth are impacted," he told Sherlock. "We're going to the orthodontist."

"But Jawwwn I don't like dentists..." came his muffled complaining.

"Too bad," he put on Sherlock's coat for him since he was still pressing his mouth with one hand. Pulling his scarf around his head, he tugged Sherlock along effectively.

At the dentist's office

John waited patiently in the waiting room. Sherlock had made several whining protests, but when the doctor had poked around in his mouth, he had decided that he needed them out right away. Nobody else was there and he fidgeted in the waiting room awhile.

Bored. Damnit he was becoming more like Sherlock...

A couple hours later

Dr. Brown came out of the door, took a look at John, and sighed. "Mr. Holmes is still under influence from the drugs needed to put him to sleep, so he will need careful watching."

"Of course," he nodded to him and the doctor went back into the room to get Sherlock. John looked at his friend and stifled a laugh. Sherlock's normally sharp eyes were bright as usual, but unfocused. He wavered a little in his step as he walked over to John, and looked positively loopy.

"Hey Jaaaaawn," he took off his scarf and wound it lazily around John's head.

"Mmmf, Sherlock. Home now," he pulled it off and took Sherlock by the hand, leading him out of the dentist office.

The ride in the taxi was surprisingly quiet. John turned to his companion to see if he was back to normal yet. Then he saw why Sherlock was so silent. Sherlock was looking under his seat for an abnornmally long period of time.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

"There's a kitty-cat. It's staring at meee," he hummed.

"Umm..." he wasn't sure if he liked Sherlock on drugs or was incredibly confused.

The cab stopped at their flat and he paid the cabbie before leading Sherlock back into the flat.

"Now just stay. In your room," he deposited the loopy Sherlock on his bed, where he sprawled and began making snow angels ont he covers.

Shutting the door, he sighed and went into the kitchen. He was going to make himself some tea. Crash! John turned around and yelped. "Sherlock!" His friend was draped over the couch and John couldn't control a fit of laughter as he realized Sherlock had tripped over the couch because of his height.

There was a loud knock on the door and he sighed. Now what?

"Sherlock! We have a problem," Lestrade's voice sounded outside the door and John opened the door. "Oh, hello John. Where's Sherlock?"

"Leeeeestrade, I have a pony," Sherlock called happily from his upside down position on a chair.

"Uh..." Lestrade just stared at him.

Anderson's head peered around Lestrade and he laughed. "Sherlock's finally gone crazy," he grinned and pulled out his phone, obviously intending to put video on youtube.

"He's just had his wisdom teeth out. Tomorrow would be a better time to-" John started before movement caught the corner of his eye and he saw Sherlock rushing at Anderson.

"What the-" Anderson began before Sherlock had thrown his lanky arms around Anderson and was hugging him tightly.

"Kitty!" he exclaimed happily and rubbed Anderson's hair back and forth mussily.

"I'm not a kitty!" the poor man yelled, struggling to escape the detective's grip. Sherlock though, John knew from experience, was stronger than he looked and managed to hang on.

Lestrade was howling with laughter and John laughed along with him. Poor Anderson's face was turning red.

"Okay Sherlock, let go of the kitty," John managed, taking hold of Sherlock's scarf and pulling him off the young man. Anderson stormed off in a huff as soon as he was freed, and Lestrade sobered up with a sigh.

"All right, he's clearly not fit to work yet. Good evening," he left, closing the door and laughing at Anderson's angry voice echoing down the stairway.

"Alright, time for bed," John dragged Sherlock back to his room, but midway, the detective stiffened himself, bringing them to a stop, and smiled.

"Jawwwwn, you smell like flowers," he poked him in the face.

"Ack!" John jerked back and they went tumbling to the ground. Sherlock sat on his chest and stared at his face. "Get off you great lump!"

"Harrrry potter ba dum bad dum bum ba doo dooo," he sang.

"Sherlock!"

His friend leaned down casually and kissed him on the nose. "Hush, my teddy is trying to sleep," he told him and curled up lankily on top of him, falling into sleep.

"Oh no you don't," John shoved the sleeping Sherlock off of him, who woke up with a whine of protest and sneezed.

Putting him back in bed and this time standing a chair in front of the door, he went and sat down in the armchair with a sigh. Sometimes taking care of Sherlock was so weird. Turning on his computer, he entered a blog.