Superwholock one-shots

John

Screech! The car halts to an alarming stop. Your head bangs to the seat in front of you, causing to earn a glare from Sherlock, who sat in the seat next to you. "That's what you get for not wearing a seatbelt," he mutters under his breath.

A glare that could kill shoots in his direction. It is a very complicated friendship with you and the detective. The two of you would protect each other to the end of everything, but, man, he got under your skin quite often. "I bet John would've worn a seatbelt, hmm?" Only a shocked and hurt look is all he musters. You regret the words as soon as you say them. John's a touchy subject for Sherlock.

"I'm sorry," fills the silence of the moving taxi. This happens often. You get mad at him for a brief amount of time, then you say something that you know will hurt him and instantly regret it.

His quietness lets you know that you are forgiven for the most part. Blurs of city pass by. "What do you know about Casey Williams?" his deep voice wavers in the awkward air.

"Nothing, except that he's dead, 26 years old, and was found today in a parking lot in his own car." The words spill out of your tongue like wet paint ready to be used.

"That's a lot of knowledge of a person for someone that knows nothing about him." The smirk is visible in his words. You don't have to look at him for you to know that he's giving you that smirk. "John would've never known that much." There he goes again, comparing you to John. Even when you've done something outstanding, he compares you to John.

All you can do is turn to the window. The taxi cab comes to a stop in front of a parking lot filled with people and police tape. You throw the amount of money at the cabbie out of a tiny bit of anger. Sherlock holds up the tape for you. He can't tell you're angry.

"Casey Williams. 26 years old as you have already told me, and he has been dead for an estimated three day," he states before you come to the body. What lays before you is a gray car with people surrounding it. All the investigators and police move for you and Sherlock. Inside the car, a man who has black hair and a nose piercing lays in a pool of his own blood.

"His girlfriend said he was going out and then never returned," a man says.

"Yes, thank you," you stammer. Never in all of your career have you seen that look on horror imprinted on someone's face. It bothered you to say the least.

Sherlock doesn't care though, he bends down to get a closer look.His hand slides down the steering wheel. His eyes roam the open glovebox. "John, fetch me a pen."

Your blood boils and your teeth grind together. "What did you just call me?" It's obvious what he said, but you just need to hear it again. He's done so many things, but this is a new low.

"Okay, (y/n). Fetch me a pen." His voice is so monotone. So unforgiving.

"My name isn't John, it's far from it. You've been doing this for months and you need to get your head out of your ass. I am (y/n). Not John." He looks at you unfazed. No emotion is on his face.

"Don't be so emotional over this. It was a simple mistake." Everyone is staring now.

"I will be emotional if I damn well want to. This isn't a simple mistake, this is disrespecting me! You always do this. if I achieve something, you compare it to john, good or bad. You see me, and then you think of John!

I am not John, I am for from it! " He still stares down at you. "Don't act like you can't hear me! I know you can! This dead guy can hear me! Because you can hear me, I'm going to say this, John doesn't know you're alive! He thinks you're lying in your grave. Dead. He thinks that you jumped off a building to kill yourself. What a shame he doesn't know the truth."

The last lines hit him and you can tell. "Sherlock, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to."

"We don't mean to do a lot of things, yet that doesn't stop us from doing just that. I know you aren't John. I am very aware of that. I know he thinks I'm dead. Thank you for pulling me back into reality." A soft chuckle escapes his lips. Silence would be best right now. You hate confrontation. "I was thinking about a case that we were on before the fall. I'm sorry I called you John."

His apology echoes in your ears. That's the first time he's apologize for anything. "Now, (y/n), that pen I asked for?"