AN - Thank you again for prompts! I just thought I'd put it here that I never expected to receive any, let alone the amount I have. And thank you for your comments, they really pick me up and I'm so glad you like my ficlets. I have eleven more to write at the moment, and I'm trying to post them roughly in the order I get them, unless I get a lot of words at one point, in which case I post them in between other prompts so people aren't waiting too long. All the ficlets I've done so far are here, and I will update this as I write more. If you have a prompt, please send it to me, and I will get around to writing it. Thanks again, you're all lovely uwu
Here's a little bit of fluff for you, thank you xSommerRegen for reviewing and providing me with something I simply couldn't make angsty (everything I touch seems to turn to angst).
Blushing, John? ~ xSommerRegen
Sherlock lay across the sofa, his feet on John's lap. The doctor sipped his tea, vaguely watching Mock the Week. The heavy curtains were drawn, and the flat was warm and relatively quiet. The crime scene pictures were stuck up on the mirror with notes and pictures of evidence and the file was lying open on the coffee table. Sherlock's fingers were brought up to his lips in his usual prayer-style position that held a sign up to anyone who cared to see that read Do not disturb; genius at work. John looked across at the beautiful, insanely intelligent man next to him, a smile beginning to dance around his lips. He chuckled slightly and took another sip of tea.
"What?" Sherlock asked, his head flicking up, brow furrowed.
John chuckled again. "You," he grinned, running a finger along Sherlock's foot.
"What about me?" Sherlock insisted as he sat up a little.
John smiled fondly at his detective. "You being all clever," John replied. "With your thinking pose and your feet and your genius mind."
The smile tugged at the corner of Sherlock's mouth. "Why is that something to laugh at?" he inquired, pulling his feet from John's lap and tucking his legs under him, facing John.
"I'm laughing at the strange and entirely perfect circumstance I've found myself in," John explained, turning to face Sherlock a little more. "I'm laughing because I'm so insanely happy that I've found myself in the, what I once thought impossible, situation of being with you."
Sherlock fought back the smile, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Oh really?" he asked, shuffling forward slightly.
"Yes," John replied. Sherlock let the smile claim his mouth as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to John's lips. John rested a hand on Sherlock's face, pulling him a little closer, his fingers twirling a little through Sherlock's dark curls. He smiled, pulling away slightly and pressing their foreheads together. "You're wonderful, you know that?"
Sherlock chuckled. "You think?"
"I know." John pressed another soft kiss to Sherlock's lips. "Love you."
"Love you too."
John smiled at Sherlock for a moment before turning his eyes back to the telly. Sherlock lay back down again, his head on John's lap. He was wearing his red silk dressing gown over a white t-shirt and red velvet trousers, and was generally looking very cosy. John's hand automatically went to Sherlock's head, his fingers straying through the curls. Sherlock lay with his eyes closed, half buried in thought. The thoughts silently flashed around the room, moving too fast for John to see them, but just slow enough so that he could take note of the absolute genius they stored. He slipped a hand under Sherlock's head to his neck, the other hand lifting the detective's chin, and raised the detective's head to his own, pressing their lips together. Sherlock's eyes remained closed, letting John kiss him. The day was warm and comfortable and slow. John smiled as he lowered Sherlock's head, his hand straying through his detective's hair once more.
The telly continued blaring rubbish at them as Sherlock lay thinking. After some time John turned it off, his gaze travelling back to the detective. "Tea?"
Sherlock opened his eyes, smiling a little. "Love some." He lifted his head and John got up. He cast a glance over his shoulder as he wandered into the kitchen, offering his detective a smile.
"Any more thoughts on the case?" he asked as he filled up the kettle and flicked it on.
"A few. Nothing that important," Sherlock replied, turning onto his stomach to look at John better.
"That's okay." John poured the boiling water over the teabags and stirred them.
"I know. Case isn't that pressing," the detective shrugged.
"Lestrade thinks it is," John pointed out.
"Letstrade's an idiot," Sherlock sighed.
"Everyone's an idiot to you," the doctor chuckled, turning and leaning against the counter. Sherlock smirked a little. After a couple of minutes, John took the teabags out of the mugs and stirred in the milk, before coming back over to the sofa.
"Here we go," he sighed as he sat down.
Sherlock sat up and took his mug. "Thanks," he murmured, taking a sip.
John smiled in response as he sipped his own tea. Sherlock set his mug down on the coffee table, shuffled up to John and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. John's smile grew. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's soft, full lips, before sipping his tea again. Sherlock sighed and took up his own mug again, his gaze fixed on John. "You okay?" John asked at length.
"Shouldn't I be?" Sherlock asked, drinking the last few drops of tea in his mug.
"No," John replied, shrugging slightly. "I just wondered."
"I'm fine."
"Good." John set down his mug, his hand straying to Sherlock's. Sherlock smiled a little, moving to John again and pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. John turned his head and Sherlock pressed soft, sweet kisses to his John's lips. John slipped his arms around Sherlock's waist, smiling against his lips, pulling the detective a little closer. "You really are wonderful," he murmured between kisses.
"So are you," Sherlock replied as he leaned forward to John, pushing him back against the sofa. John hummed happily, pulling Sherlock on top of him as he lay back. He brought his legs onto the sofa, Sherlock slitting perfectly between them as he kissed his doctor. "You… are absolutely… wonderful," Sherlock mumbled, kissing John's lips and cheeks and chin, his warm, soft lips curved into a smile. "I love you."
"I love you, too," John hummed. Sherlock moved his lips to press more sweet kisses to John's slightly tanned neck. John sighed contentedly, a sudden drowsiness stealing over him. Sherlock brought his lips back to John's and gave him a long, gentle kiss. John opened his eyes and gazed at Sherlock, exploring his every feature before he found himself lost in Sherlock's beautiful, indescribable eyes. Sherlock held his gaze for a long moment, his fingers toying with the hem of John's jumper. The only light was that of the dim lamp on the other side of the room, which cast long shadows across Sherlock's perfectly formed face. John pulled a hand up to Sherlock's head and ran his fingers through his soft, dark curls. Sherlock laid his head down against John, one hand on his chest, the other still fingering the hem of his cable knit jumper. John's eyes slipped closed as he lay, entwined with Sherlock, and perfectly happy.
Sherlock's eyes flickered open. The soft, dim light of morning filtered through the gap in the curtains, and the lamp still cast its light upon the pair. John lay with his eyes closed, breathing deeply. Sherlock smiled, gazing at his John, taking in every minute detail of the sleeping figure, before leaning up and pressing the softest of kisses to his cheek. He could have sworn he saw a smile play about the corners of his lips.
Sherlock eased himself out of John's arms, leaving the doctor to sleep for a few minutes longer as he went to the kitchen to make two cups of tea. As it was brewing, he wandered back into the living room and sat on the coffee table, his attention completely fixed on his wonderful John as he lay sleeping on the sofa. Neither had stirred that night, and John still lay, serene and quiet, lost in his land of dreams and darkness. No nightmares had come that night. Sherlock smiled a little at the thought, and pulled himself up to finish the teas. He was just pouring in the milk when he felt a pair of arms slip around his waist.
"Morning," John murmured, pressing a small kiss to Sherlock's neck.
Sherlock turned and brought his lips to John's, kissing him gently. "Good morning." The exchanged slightly sleepy smiles, then Sherlock took up the mugs and placed one in John's hand. "Tea."
"So it is," John noted, looking down at his mug. Sherlock sighed and took a sip of his own tea. There was a soft buzzing, and John dug his phone out of his pocket. "Lestrade," he announced after a moment. "They're coming over in an hour."
"Why?" Sherlock asked, sighing as he slipped his free arm around John's waist.
"Fake drugs bust," John replied, the annoyance rather obvious in his voice. "Something about you withholding evidence ag-"
"No, I meant why must they be so idiotic?" Sherlock chuckled, gazing down at John.
The doctor smiled and pressed another kiss to Sherlock's lips. "I'm going to go have a shower." He finished his tea and set the mug down, walking towards the bathroom. Sherlock sighed again as he wandered over to the windows. He pulled open the curtains and the flat was flooded with the shine of the summer morning. Sherlock gazed out onto London and took another sip of tea.
"It's not that big of a deal," Sherlock sighed, rolling his eyes a little.
"Withholding evidence again, Sherlock," Lestrade replied, raising his eyebrows. "You can't keep going off on your own."
"It was one small piece that you lot missed," retorted Sherlock. "You didn't think it was of importance, you didn't really mind that I had it."
"That was before we found out it was a key piece of evidence."
"I found out it was a key piece of evidence and texted you."
"You should have given it to us."
"So you're pulling a drugs bust on me again?" Sherlock spat, glaring at Lestrade. John folded his arms across his chest, his lips pressed together to stop him from yelling at them all to bloody well get out of their flat. It was meant to be a reasonably relaxed weekend. He rolled his eyes at himself – he should have learned by now that that is almost an impossibility.
"Yes," Lestrade answered simply, shrugging. "Where is it?"
"Where's what?" Sherlock asked innocently.
"The bloody watch, Sherlock," Lestrade replied, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "Where did you put the watch?"
Sherlock just shrugged, turning to John. John sighed and raised his eyebrows at his detective – he was very annoying sometimes, but in such a way that it was impossible for John not to love him for it.
"Oo-oo!" Mrs Hudson appeared at the door, knocking slightly before opening it. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene before her. "What's all this?" she asked, hovering in the doorway.
"Drugs bust," Anderson replied as he emptied the contents of one of the kitchen cupboards. He had to admit he was slightly disappointed that he didn't find any body parts in there.
"Here? Sherlock, you'll have to explain what's going on here," she sighed, shaking her head.
"They're just searching for something Sherlock has, Mrs Hudson," John replied, offering her a warm smile.
Mrs Hudson turned her gaze to John, confusion creasing her forehead. "He said it's a drugs bust."
"No, it's not drugs," John reassured her. "They're just trying to get Sherlock to find what they need for them." Mrs Hudson nodded, her eyes flicking to Sherlock.
"Sherlock, dear, is your neck okay today?" she asked.
"Yes, why shouldn't it be?" Sherlock replied, his attention now fixed on his landlady.
"I was just thinking last night," she explained, glancing between John and Sherlock. "You looked comfortable enough, but when I used to do that, my neck got awfully stiff."
"Do what?" Anderson asked, coming out of the kitchen with a jar of jam in one hand.
John gaped at Mrs Hudson. "How did you-?"
"Oh, I just popped in last night," she smiled, glancing around the flat before resting her gaze on the rather nervous John. "Just to see if you were still up, or if those fireworks had woken you."
"Sorry, what were they doing?" Sally Donovan cut in, her eyes gleaming with mischief, a grin forming on her mouth.
Mrs Hudson turned her attention to Donovan, ignoring John's mumbled protests. "It was nothing, really," she sighed, smiling. "They were just… comfortably wrapped up in each other."
"They were what?" Anderson exclaimed, the grin crawling over his own face.
"They were only sleeping," Mrs Hudson shrugged, glancing around at the clearly enticed group of officers. "It was sweet."
"What, like… cuddling?" Lestrade asked.
"Lestrade!" John hissed, glaring at the detective inspector. John's cheeks were flaming and he turned his eyes to the floor.
"Yes, I guess so," Mrs Hudson replied. "I don't see why there's a big fuss about it."
Sherlock eyed everyone assembled, his gaze resting on John for a little while longer than everyone else, then he walked over to the bookshelf, pulled out a volume about beekeeping and took out the watch which had been hidden behind it. "This what you were looking for?" he asked, his voice teasing.
"Yes," Lestrade sighed, taking it and putting it in an evidence bag. "Right. Everyone clear out, we have what we need." A little reluctantly, the group began to file out of the flat, Anderson and Donovan still with wide grins branded on their faces. Lestrade left last, pausing in the doorway to whisper to Mrs Hudson "Did you happen to get a snap of that?" She winked at him, still smiling, and he left looking even happier than Anderson and Donovan.
"I hope I didn't embarrass you," Mrs Hudson sighed, the thought that she might apparently just occurring to her.
Sherlock smiled at her. "No, it's fine," he replied, his gaze turning to the still fuming John. Mrs Hudson glanced at him and disappeared without another word. Sherlock walked behind John and slipped his arms around the shorter man's waist, a grin to match Lestrade's beginning to creep across his face. "Are you… blushing, John?" he teased. John said nothing, his eyes still fixed on the floor. Sherlock dipped down and pressed a kiss to John's fiery cheek. "Problem?"
John reluctantly smiled, and turned around into the detective's embrace. "No problem at all," he sighed, leaning up and kissing Sherlock's lips.
"Good," Sherlock smiled. "Although you do look so cute when you blush."
John glared at Sherlock, but said nothing. Instead he slipped his arms around the detective's white neck and they shared soft, sweet kisses, relaxing into the now peaceful Sunday afternoon.
Send me Johnlock prompt word, scenarios OR SONGS NOW I WILL LISTEN TO THE SONG AND WRITE SOMETHING FROM IT and I will write a ficlet