Johnlock all the way (Johnlock oneshots)

Morse code

Sherlock and John were sitting in a small office at the Scotland Yard. Across the table took place the one and only (thank God, it would've been too much) Lestrade, babbling about some paperwork he had to do, but didn't have time because he wanted to surprise a certain person, who, by the way, is very dear to him, but he can't tell his name and that's why he needed Holmes and Watson, to help him out with a few questions so he would finish soon, blablabla. 

Sherlock groaned in annoyance, while John was trying to focus on not closing his eyes. John Watson... If he would know how much Sherlock likes him... But he just can't confess simply, can he? That would be... Simple. He has to do something special, but what would impress a former army doctor, who had seen so many unusual things in his life?

Lestrade, when do you finish talking?

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and a young policeman entered. Sherlock hoped he had a case which would stop Lestrade from boring him to death, but he just brought coffee. Sherlock always wondered whether the freshmen's main duty was learning how to make the best coffee for the officers.

 And than it came to his mind as a lightning.

Sherlock softly tapped the table. And again. It was a morse coded message. He didn't get any replies, only a questioning glance from Lestrade. At least John's eyes shot awake and he seemed - surprised? Nah, he never mentioned that he would understand morse.

._.

The next time Sherlock tapped the message was a week later. 

They were stuck in a huge traffic as the rush hour had caught them sitting in a cab. Sherlock's mind was still in that basement where they had found the body of the murderer and a bloody knife. The blood was already dried so it couldn't belong to the murderer. In addition, there weren't any bruises or cuts on his body. But then there had to be someone else killed. Unless... Unless the knife didn't belong to the murderer and he really was killed with that. Lestrade made a grimace when Sherlock said that. Shortly after that, Sherlock explained everything: Someone knew where the murderer would be and wanted to end him. He couldn't afford the price of poisons and a gun would've been conspicuous, so he used the old method - a knife. There are many ways to kill someone with a knife, not just from the outside. According to the dissecting analysis, the murderer had a serious injury inside of his throat, which was deadly. And what about the dried blood? It's simple as two plus two. If the man could kill the murderer then he could easily get someone other's blood. Which leads to the identity of someone who works at the Scotland Yards dissecting laboratory, because he knew the whole case and was able to get blood. When Lestrade understood this he made an ugly grimace and said that if Sherlock was the bad guy they would be in serious trouble.

Sherlock smiled at the memory of the officer's funny face expression. 

He didn't even sense that he was tapping the message on the seat. John just smiled and looked out the window, but immediately changed his expression to an angry one. There were just too many cars. 

._.

Later that night, John was sitting in an armchair with a book on his lap. The flat was very quiet. It was that kind of silence you don't want to desecrate with speaking. Outside the wind blew, but inside the fire kept warm. By the way, maybe it was a little too hot in there... John put the book on the floor and took down his yellow-white striped sweater. 

Sherlock watched him from the table. He felt his fingers itching to tap that message again. But this time louder. 

He tapped the table.

I love you.

And suddenly John tapped back. 

I love you too, you stupid otter.

This completely shocked Sherlock. Not the insult or the fact that John knew morse code as well. Before he managed to speak, John stood up a little aggressively and sat next to him.

"On what idiotic site did you read that using morse code is the best way to finally admit that you like me?"
"John, I didn't read it anywhere. I just... You know how awful I am with all the emotions and stuff. I thought that maybe this is the best way to get it off my chest."

"Get it off your chest? Sherlock Holmes, you can't just get this off you chest!"

"Oh, what do you suggest, doc?"

"You really wanna know?"
The answer was a morse "yes".

~*~ ^._.^ ~*~

Author's Note: Yeeey and other happy noises. First Johnlock oneshot I ever wrote and published.  🎉 Maybe the end is a bit rushed, but I know you all have a rich imagination, so use it. 😼 If you have any requests, you can write them down, I'd be delighted to read and write them (except cheesy, smutty ideas, sorry not sorry) 

🔎🧡🩺 

Adios amigos!