Just Some Johnlock Oneshots

Baby Sherlock

"Damn it, Sherlock! You can't just run around like that, someday you'll get hurt," John sighed as he turned the corner in the abandoned factory. "Sherlock?" He called after not hearing a response. Normally the detective is quick to throw some insult at John.

John stepped further into the dark room, once again pulling out his gun. He'd put it back into his jeans once they caught the murder. The retired soldier heard a shuffle and he raised his pistol.

"Jawn!" A high pitched voice wailed. John's eyebrows furrowed and he tucked his gun back into his waistband. It sounded like a little kid. But why would a kid be at a factory?

John scanned the long room with his blue eyes, until they finally caught on a mound against the wall. Cautiously he approached, and almost jumped out of his skin as the child called for him once again. The voice sounded strangely familiar although he knew no kids.

John finally reached the shape and bent down to its level. His eyes widened as took in the toddler before him.

"S-sherlock?"

The curly haired boy pouted up at him, rubbing his tear filled blue eyes with a tiny fist. He was swimming in a pile of the detective's clothes.

"Jawn!" Tiny Sherlock sobbed and leapt into his bloggers warm arms.

"Hey you're ok! I got you Sherlock." John ran his hand up and down the short length of the boy's shirt covered spine before scooping him up into his arms. He made sure the little boy was covered up by Sherlock's coat. "What happened?"

"I don't know!" Sherlock exclaimed, tears flowing faster down his pale chubby cheeks. "I don't like not knowing."

"We'll figure it out together," John smiled at the bundle in his arms. "But first let's go home." Sherlock relaxed into John's arms and sucked his thumb while falling asleep. John ducked out of the factory, avoiding Lestrade and the other officers. After calling a cab, he texted Greg that he and Sherlock had left because the detective was in an extremely foul mood.

John tried to gently close the door to 221B, but with a sleeping child in his arms, it ended up slamming shut. Sherlock blinked open his seafoam green eyes and peered up at John. A small smile graced his full lips and he reached up a tiny hand to touch John's cheek. The boy softly patted John's face as the doctor walked to the couch to set the kid down. Before doing so, he grabbed Sherlock's hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his palm, making the boy giggle. John's face flushed after he realized what he did. But he couldn't help it, Sherlock was so cute! And it was an excuse to kiss his long term crush. He set Sherlock on the couch and scrunched up his face. He had no idea what to do for clothes. Sherlock's button down was like a dress on the boy, but he didn't have any underwear. And John doubted he was potty trained.

His question was answered when a soft hissing sound ran through the living room and Sherlock's face turned bright red. The detective burst into tears of embarrassment and John rushed to comfort him.

"Hey buddy, it's alright. Let's get you cleaned up," He spoke softly before picking the boy up and into the bathroom. He glared at the soaked coach, wondering if Mrs. Hudson would be willing to help him clean it.

Getting the toddler clean and dry was an awkward experience for both parties included. After a lot of fussing and kicking legs, John managed to get a tea towel fastened with safety pins around Sherlock's waist. He set the boy down on Sherlock's bed before rummaging through the closet.

"I thought you shrunk one of your t-shirts the other day when you didn't read the wash instructions on the tag," John murmured to himself. Sherlock kept himself amused by jumping up and down on the super soft king sized bed, his curly hair bouncing up and down around his soft face. John finally found the shirt shoved into the corner and looked fondly at Sherlock's fun. The little boy was letting out constant high pitched giggles and John couldn't help but pick him up in his arms and lift Sherlock above his head. Sherlock shrieked in excitement and held his arms out like a plane. After a minute, Sherlock's adult brain must have kicked in because his face turned bright red. The blond noticed this, cleared his throat, and set the toddler back down on the bed. He got Sherlock out of his soiled shirt without any fuss.