Sherlock oneshots

Johnlock~ take a slice

AGHH IM SO GLAD TO BE WRITING JOHNLOCK AGAINNNNN!!! I've been meaning to rewatch some Sherlock as I've falling out of the loop, I keep genuinely forgetting who and what happens to some characters and it's making it hard to get back into writing oneshots. BUT it's never beyond me to write some cute fluffy Johnlock!

Obviously my life isn't fantastic atm due to my mental health and shit, so having comfort characters like Sherlock and John really help! I feel I can express my emotions through writing, and I hope u guys r all still around to read some!! I've just had pizza which is a MASSIVE recovery win, so I thought instead of overthinking and stressing about it, I'd write some Johnlock pizza action- coz normal people eat pizza and we shouldn't be scared of it :>

(Not that Sherlock and John r Traditionally very normal lmao)

John sat tapping his finger against the chair arm, leaning his head on his other hand and staring passively at the corner of the room. He couldn't explain how he felt, frustrated, bored, excited, panicked. Well, he knew how he felt- starving.

He'd ordered pizza over an hour and a half ago, only expecting it to take 20 minutes to arrive given the shop was just down the road. Given that he'd turned down the biscuits Mrs Hudson had offered him, thinking he'd be eating a delicious ham and pineapple pizza in less than an hour, he was very regretful. He rolled his head on the back of the chair and sighed out, trying not to get unreasonably angry. He always struggled to control his temper when he was hungry.

He checked his phone for a notification to tell him where his food was, one normally appeared when they were on route or soon to arrive, but much to his dismay there was none. He groaned and kicked his legs childishly against the table, catching the attention of the detective in the kitchen behind him. Upon hearing his flat mates squabble from across the room, Sherlock lifted his head up from his microscope to peer over.

He couldn't help grin at the sight of John Watson, army man, highly respected doctor and fully grown man, whining about the wait for his din din. It was funny, and quite honestly adorable to Sherlock- though he wouldn't admit that, he'd never live it down. He got to his feet and approached the chair that John was in, smiling innocently as the shorter man lied his head back to face upwards at him. He put his hands either side of his friends head, feeling a hint of nerve in his chest as he instinctively leaned closer.

"You alright?" He asked with an insultingly innocent tone. John huffed, blowing a breeze of his minty breath into the taller mans face. Before he could answer his stomach growled monstrously, practically forming waves under John's jumper in rage for being forced to wait. The doctor blushed, but didn't break his eye contact with Sherlock as he chuckled. He glanced away and desperately shuffled in his chair to prevent it rumbling again.

"I ordered pizza, but it's taking hours and I'm starving!" Sherlock Rolled his eyes and slinked across the room to his own chair, sitting down and picking up the paper from that day. He didn't want to read it, but he knew his pupils must've been so dilated looking at John for so long. He doubted he'd notice, normal people didn't, but he couldn't risk it. It'd hurt too much. "You normal people and your obsessions with food and hunger." He shook his head lightly, making John giggle.

"Normal people don't choose to be hungry, it just happens and we just, listen." He shuffled to hang his legs over the arm of his chair, leaning his head on the other. He always worried about Sherlock's eating habits, he could go days without food and would only break that fast when John would force him to have a biscuit. He didn't know how he'd survived without him living at Bakersstreet. He'd wondered if it was an eating disorder, but he realised that Sherlock was 'too good' for an eating disorder. He'd outsmart one.

The detective hummed in response, almost like he expected such a response. "You're telling me you're never hungry? Like at all?" John chuckled, moving his gaze to the ceiling. "I wouldn't know the feeling." He wrapped his arms around his stomach, closing his eyes and daydreaming about his pizza that he hoped was nearly here. Sherlock tutted. "Nope." He popped the P. "Waste of time and energy, digestion slows my thoughts. Not worth it."

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, sending John practically rolling off the chair. He got up and sprinted at the flat door, yanking it open and sprinting down the stairs two at a time. Sherlock sniggered, not having seen John move so fast in months. He sighed and looked back down at the paper, even though he couldn't focus on the words in the slightest. His brain would lock onto John, his loving smile, his bright eyes, his sarcastic manner, he loved everything about him. He'd always said live was a weakness, he never expected to have to prove it.

A few moments later the army doctor reappeared, flat box in hand and a huge grin on his face. He placed the box down in the table and opened it, instantly pulling out a slice and biting into it frantically, hot melted cheese still attached. His eyes rolled back and he fell into the chair, all while Sherlock stared at him with wide eyes. John's amusement by food astounded him. Though, despite the relationship he had with food and how he preached it, that pizza did look good...

His stomach seemed to agree with him, lurching forwards suddenly as if to reach for a slice itself. Sherlock squeaked as a grumble escaped, making John smirk through his mouthful of pizza. He knew not even Sherlock could resist a warm slice of pizza. He pushed the box slowly in his direction, though he could see his hesitation. He offered a small encouraging smile, nodding towards the cheesy goodness as he took another bite of his own slice.

Sherlock sighed out of his nose and reluctantly took a slice, his mind racing with information he probably didn't want to know before eating. He took a deep breath and took a bite. Suddenly his head went quiet, his eyes went wide, his tongue fizzed. The taste was amazing, it was like he hadn't ever tasted anything before. Well, he'd never appreciated taste like this before. John couldn't help laugh at his completely mesmerised face, all over a slice of pizza he'd completely torn down 10 minutes ago.

Sherlock felt his brain sizzle and shut down, suddenly he had no control or idea what he was doing. The next 20 minutes were an utter blur.

The detective opened his eyes, cringing at the light. He put his hands on his face and rubbed his mouth, drawing it away in confusion at the greasy slime around it. He went to sit up, groaning at the sudden tightness of his abdomen. He looked to his side at the empty box of pizza, John in the kitchen at the microwave. "John? John what happened? What's all-" he waved his hand at the disarray beside him, meeting eyes with his flat mate.

John wiped his eyes on his jumper sleeve, he'd been laughing obviously. He lent on the doorframe, sipping at a can of something fizzy. "There you are, there's my Sherlock. Welcome back mate!" He chuckled, Sherlock tilting his head. He pushed himself up, cringing at how full he felt. His brain caught up in a heartbeat, sending waves of embarrassment through him. He must've eaten the entire thing, lost control. God forsaken bodily functions.

"Look John I'm sorry, i don't know-"
"It's Fine, Sherlock, please don't worry."
"But it was your piz-"
"Sherlock it's fine! It's just a pizza! I'd much rather you ate it than me, you never eat enough."
"But there was no need for the entire thing."
"You must've needed it, your body took a stand against your mind. It's nice to see."

Sherlock smiled sheepishly, laying down on the sofa. John couldn't help look fondly at his flat mate, watching him gently fall asleep. His body must've been so deprived of food and sleep, at the first sight it took charge. Even if the detective wasn't happy about it, John had to admit he was glad. He walked over and ran his hand through the mass of curly locks that'd conked out on the sofa. Just as he considered giving him some kind of kiss goodnight, the microwave dinged.

He jumped back, and giving one more look to Sherlock he headed into the kitchen to retrieve his microwave lasagne. Sherlock opened his eye a crack, smiling and bliss. God he loved that man.