Oneshots of John lock<3

Train trips, (bbc)

A long train ride awaited them, their carriage was cramped even though Mycroft claimed he'd reserve them the best of the best. (Sherlock reckoned it was to get back at him for passing out on his sofa).

"I'm shattered." John grumbled, closing his laptop and securing it in his bag. He hated long journeys with a passion, although his attention span was longer than Sherlocks he could switch off in seconds.
"Then get some shut eye." The brunette uttered, transferring one of his hands from his keyboard to johns thigh, though his eyes didn't leave the screen.
"You should too, y'know. It's been a heck of a case to get this far." The doctor placed his hand over his partners, massaging it gently hoping it would made him relax.
"I will later, I really need to finish these responses. I haven't been in contact with the investigation team, not like I give two shits but apparently it's important if I want to remain involved." His eyes squinted at the screen, analysing what he had previously typed.
"Sherl, promise me you'll get some sleep soon? It's almost late, even for you." The shorter man placed a kiss on his lovers jaw before resting his head against his headrest.
"Promise." A gentle squeeze to johns thigh as a little confirmation was all he needed to feel confident that sherlock would get some sleep. His eyes closed, as he eventually drifted off into a slumber.

The train was close to silent, possibly another hour had passed. The only audible sound was johns light snores, and the train track. The detectives eyelids were beginning to feel heavy, as his fingers glided across the keys. He knew he could send it off now, but it wasn't all he knew. He knew so much more. But they wouldn't be able to piece it together if it hit them in the face.
The detective jumped at the sudden weight applied to his shoulder, he turned his head to see John, fast asleep while using Sherlocks shoulder as a headrest. He couldn't help but smile at the sight, John looked so relaxed, so content when he was sleeping. There was no frown, or fear, just sweetness. Sherlock pushed his laptop into his bag, carful not to move his right arm too much. He threw his coat over the two of them, pressing himself against his lover for dear warmth. His head rested on top of Johns, as his eyelids fluttered closed and fell into a slumber.

John were awoken by young ladies knocking on the door of their cabin, offering tea. John gave them a tired thumbs up as he lifted his head, seeing the oblivious Sherlock Holmes beside him, (which was still in a deep slumber). He wasn't going to dare disturb him, just tuck himself back against him.