Drunk Confessions (Johnlock:)

Sooooo First attempt at FLUFF! I thought of this while I was at the dentist waiting to be tortured.

Thank you Twosugars16 on DeviantArt for making the pic for the cover!! :D

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John Watson was sitting in his armchair in 221B Baker street. His flatmate was in the kitchen doing only God knows what. He was conducting an experiment with, what he thought, was a human head.  

Suddenly, there was a loud noise, almost like an explosion. John only blinked and sighed. What was he going to do with that impossibly brilliant man?

"John! I-I got it!" He heard the consulting detective yell from the kitchen.

"Wonderful." John muttered under his breath.Then Sherlock stepped out of the kitchen with some blood and black soot all over his face and clothes. "John, theres no food here."

"When is there ever food here?" John asked sarcastically.

"I'll order in." He states flatly. About an hour later, after Sherlock cleans up of course, the doctor and detective are in the sitting room watching crap telly eating asian food. After a while of screaming at the TV, the consulting detective sighed angrily.

"I can't believe you watch this crap, Jo- " Suddenly, Sherlock gasped in pain.  

"Whats wrong?" John asks with a concern in voice. Ever since the incident with Moriarty and the pool, John's been more protective of Sherlock. Yes, he knew that it wasn't life or death in this case, but it could potentially become annoying for both his flatmate and himself.

"My tooth, it hurts." He mutters. "When was the last time you-"

"18." He states flatly.

"Sorry?"

"Last time I was at a tooth specialist, I was 18."

"Okay." John says. "Well I'll call up a colleague of mine who's good with teeth to take a look tomorrow."

"What? No John its fine, it'll pass."  

"No, no it won't." He states flatly as he pulls out his phone to tell his medical friend. "It'll only get worse."

"No it won't, John, stop over rea-" He gasps again. "Second thought-"  

"Eight o'clock alright?"

"Fine... Better to get it over with..."

"Okay."

A few moments later, the detective stired in his chair.

"Do I have to?" He says quietly.

The army doctor looked at Sherlock with a look of utter surprise. Was he afraid of the dentist?

"Yes, Sherlock, you do."

"But I-"

"Look, if you're too scared-" John began to say, but was cut off.

"I'm not afraid, its just I don't like it when people are prooding around my mouth with a sharp stick and a drill." He stats in his defenceive baratone voice.

"Ah." John says. He pauses then says, "So you are afraid of the dentist."

"Oh God yes."

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"This is ridiculous..." Sherlock pouts as he's being lowered on the chair. His arms are crossed over his chest. The dentist put the green paper over his chest. "Why have I got this paper? What does it do? If your so good at your job then nothing should get on my clothes, idiot!"