Johnlock Oneshots

1-Cab

John and Sherlock's last case was an hour away from Baker Street. Five men, all under 25, were dismembered, their bodies dumped in a river. After examining the bodies for a few minutes, Sherlock deduced that all of the men had attended AA programs. All of them at different times. Sherlock quickly figured out that only one person was there during all five of the men's separate programs, Arnold Walsh. He was their sponsor. Three days before the bodies were discovered, Walsh had a relapse and murdered the five young men. He blamed them for his relapse. Sherlock managed to figure all of this out within 15 minutes of examining the corpses. John would never cease to be amazed by the taller man's skills, mind, eyes.
On cab rides back from cases, John usually just gushed about how brilliant he found Sherlock, but after half an hour in the taxi, he had run out of things to compliment his best friend on. That is, he'd run out of things to compliment without giving away the fact that John was in love with him.
John knew there was no way Sherlock loved him back. Sherlock Holmes, self proclaimed sociopath, doesn't feel that way about people. Still, John couldn't stop thinking about Sherlock's perfectly quaffed curls, his grey-blue eyes focused on something in the distance, his Cupid's bow lips.
"You've been staring." Sherlock says, not turning away from the window.
"What?"
"You heard me."
John looks down at his feet. "Sorry."
Slowly, Johns eyes make their way back to the consulting detective's lips.
Sherlock smirks. "Staring." He locks eyes with John, placing a hand on the smaller man's knee. The hand slowly creeps up John's leg until he lets it rest on the blonde's thigh.
John can't tell whether Sherlock is teasing or if he actually is making a move. His train of thought was interrupted by a pair of soft lips crashing against his own.
John was caught off guard by the kiss. A few seconds later, he started kissing back. Sherlock pulled away. For the first time John had ever seen, the detective looked flustered.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have done tha-" John cuts him off by grabbing a handful of his shirt and pulling him into a kiss.
The stiffness of the first one was replaced by passion. John moved the hand not grasping Sherlock's shirt to the taller man's hair. The other went lax and gently rested on his chest. Sherlock undid his seatbelt and moved closer to the other man. One hand found the small of John's back while the other pressed against the window behind his head. He ran his tongue against the smaller man's bottom lip, remembering that that was how you asked for entry into someone's mouth. John's lips parted. Sherlock accurately took that as an invitation to deepen the kiss, causing the other to let out a small moan. Only then did he realize how out of breath he was, so John slowly pulled away. The two sat eyes locked and panting. Sherlock broke the silence.
"I don't necessarily mind you staring."

This one's short, I'll try to make the next one longer. Thanks for reading!