Johnlock oneshots (2009, RDJ version)

London winters

Winters in 1890s London can be tough. And even with the fireplace blazing, a house can only get so warm.
Goosebumps crawled up Holmes' arms as he pulled his blanket tighter with numb fingers. He exhaled shakily and his breath steamed in the cold air. At least he was dry.
He only noticed the door open when a gust of wind blew through the room. "Shut the d-door," he groaned.
"Sorry, your highness," Watson said as he closed the door behind him. "God, it's freezing in here."
"N-no shit."
"Here." Watson shrugged off his coat, handing it to the shivering detective. Holmes pulled it on gratefully.
"Th-thank you."
Watson smiled. "Only problem is now I'm cold."
Holmes shot him an unsteady grin. "C'mere." He lifted his arm, gesturing for Watson to join him. The doctor flopped down next to him, shifting close enough for Holmes' body heat to start warming him up.
"Gimme your scarf." Holmes tugged at the blue and brown fabric around Watson's neck.
"Hey! Remember I'm cold too, idiot."
"At least give me the end?"
Watson sighed. "Fine." He unwrapped the scarf from his neck and slung it around both of them. Holmes pulled his end tight and buried his nose in it.
    Seeing Watson stare at him, Holmes blushed. "Smells like you." He mumbled. Watson shook him head and smiled.
    Holmes yawned and rested his head on Watson's shoulder. His eyes drifted shut.

    When Holmes awoke, his head was no longer on Watson's shoulder. Instead, he was nose to nose with the doctor, lying on their couch, his arms around Watson's waist. The scarf was still wrapped around them both. Watson was already awake, watching him sleep with a warmth that contradicted the blue of his eyes.
    "Hello, Watson." Holmes said, his voice scratchy from sleep.
    "Hello, Holmes." Watson's voice was gravelly in a way that light a spark in Holmes' stomach. He let his gaze drop to Watson's mouth. He leant forward very slowly, giving ample time for Watson to pull away. He didn't. Holmes let his lips fall on Watson's, kissing him gently. Watson's moustache tickling his upper lip, making him smile, and the doctor kissed him back, tender and a little apprehensive. Watson brought his hand up to touch Holmes' hair, twisting the dark locks around his fingers. Holmes tightened his grip around Watson's waist and pulled him closer. He slipped his hand under Watson's coat and shirt, his fingers brushing his lower back. Watson gasped at the touch, Holmes getting a lungful of the expelled air. His breath tasted of stale tea and alcohol. Holmes pressed his tongue to Watson's mouth, wanting to taste him more. Watson let the detective lick his tongue, warmth spreading through his body as Holmes' saliva mixed with his. Holmes ran his tongue along the doctor's teeth, eliciting a strangled sigh that sounded suspiciously like a moan.
Holmes pulled back, looking at the heavily-blushing Watson in pleasant surprise. "Beg your pardon?"
"Oh, shut up." Watson glared at him, embarrassed.
Holmes raised his eyebrows, grinning, mischief alight in his eyes. He pressed his knee between Watson's legs and Watson swallowed hard.
"Stop that." Watson told him, using the voice he reserved for the special occasions when he needed Holmes to listen. The detective obeyed, flashing him a flirty look.
"As you wish, my dear Watson." Holmes kissed him quickly, his lips barely brushing Watson's. He snuggled closer to the doctor, pressing his head to Watson's chest. Watson shifted onto his back, pulling Holmes on top of him.
Holmes sighed, his breath warm on Watson's chest. He inhaled Watson's heavy smell, burying his head further into his shirt.
"Good lord, you smell good Watson." His voice was muffled against Watson's chest, his words vibrating up Watson's neck. The doctor didn't respond, just smiled and kissed the top of the detective's head.