Oneshots of John lock<3

Cigarettes (bbc)

"John!" Sherlock pouted, slamming the bedroom door open. John was sat in bed sending off his blog, he was confused why sherlock was being so loud since it was merely 8am.
"Yes?" His voice was scratchy from the lack of verbal communication.
"Where the hell, did you put my cigarettes?!" Sherlocks voice raised, his hands were by his side as he glared at John. But all John could do was sigh, he cleared his throat staring up at his partner.
"We talked about this." Their voice comparison was large, one who talked very modestly, and the other who was off in a rage.
"They're my cigarettes! I don't give a crap what we talk about, I need them." Sherlock was practically hissing at John, his eyes narrowed as if they were about to have a showdown.
"If you want to go fishing in the sewers, be my guest."
"You flushed my cigarettes?!" Sherlock gasped, "John that's not- John!"
"It's for your own good, and you know it." Sherlock was about to storm off but instead he flopped himself along the bed groaning into the blanket.
"Jawwwwn!" He groaned into the blanket, though his words were muffled,
"Yes sherlock?"
"Can you buy me a knife?"
"Why do you need a knife?" John was taking no actual consideration into this conversation.
"So I can stab myself in the back like you did to me!!" Sherlock growled, flipping himself over to face the ceiling.
"Love you too Sherlock." John laughed, placing his hand in Sherlocks curls.
"It's not funny, I need them for work."
"You have a intelligent mind, I'm sure you'll manage. Besides, I bought some more nicotine patches." The shorter mans fingers massaged the top of his lovers head.
"They're shit!" The younger one grumbled, crawling his way up to John and burying his face into his chest.
"Maybe if you used them for a change they wouldn't be." Sherlock fell silent, only a few huffs were audible.
John hadn't stopped massaging his head, just in hope that it would keep sherlock satisfied. After a few minutes Sherlocks legs were tightly wrapped around johns, his arms hung over his shoulders, while John held ahold of Sherlocks lower back, their fingers drew small shapes on each other's skin, sherlock seemed to be mapping out some major plan while John was drawing simple things like flowers.
"We should go on a date tonig-"
"Sherl, I got work."
"Urgh!"