The Doctor And The Detective (Johnlock)

One

John looked up from his computer when Sherlock came pacing into the room. "You eaten yet?" He kept typing even while his eyes were on his flatmate. Sherlock made a face. 

"I thought you knew me by now, John." He flicked his eyes down to John's hands dancing across the keyboard, then back up at John. Breaking his gaze away, he flopped onto the couch. 

"You promised you'd eat." Now the sound of keys clicking stopped and John twisted around in his seat. "Come on Sherlock. This is ridiculous." He crossed his arms. Sherlock didn't say anything. John sighed. "Fine, but you have to eat later." He went back to whatever he had been doing on his computer. Sherlock almost let out a sigh. Thank god, John wasn't going to press on with his request for Sherlock to eat.

I should stop putting it off. Sherlock thought. He had told himself the whole day to eat. Oh, I'll do it in an hour. Just a bit longer, then I'll eat. He knew he should eat at some point. It wouldn't do very good to have him dead. John was a doctor, not a detective. There was a bang as said John slammed down his computer lid. Sherlock jumped a little.

"For heaven's sake, this is stupid!" John stood and glared at Sherlock. "Come on. We're going out for dinner." Before Sherlock could react, John strode over and grabbed his arm, pulling him up. Sherlock only just had enough time to grab his coat before being whisked out the door. 

"John! Let go of me! I'll eat later!"

"Stop procrastinating!" John kept a firm grip on Sherlock's arm as he attempted to hail a cab. Sherlock moaned and made excuses, probably sounding like a little kid. After standing in the cold night air for approximately a minute, John grumbled something about never being able to get a cab at this time of night, and how stupid the transport system was. He turned and pulled Sherlock away. 

Sherlock resisted at first, but then let John pull him along. The place on his arm where John was gripping him started to ache. "Let go of my arm? Hurts," Sherlock muttered. John glared at him suspiciously, as if he was to loosen his grip even a tiny bit Sherlock would run away. He sighed and let go. 

"Don't even think about running back, William Sherlock Scott Holmes."

Sherlock winced. He hated hearing his full name. He tagged along after John, sulking behind him like a moody teenager. He didn't really pay attention to where they were going until John grabbed his arm again and pulled him into an almost deserted small shop. Aside from a girl reading a newspaper in the corner and the sleepy looking employee behind the counter, there was no one there. 

John pushed Sherlock into a seat. "Stay here. I'll get something." He made his way to the counter and spoke to the employee. After a while he came back. Sherlock looked around. "What is this place?"

"Just somewhere I come to occasionally. They have great pizza." John sat opposite to Sherlock. Sherlock made a face. 

"Pizza?" 

"You will eat it," John frowned. Sherlock sighed. 

"Fine. One piece."

"Four."

"One."

"Four."

"Two?"

"Three. And that's final." John crossed his arms again. Sherlock sighed. 

"Why do I let you do this to me, John?"

"Well it wouldn't do if you were dead. I'm a doctor, not a detective. I can't replace you," John shrugged. Sherlock smiled slightly.

 "Funny, I was thinking exactly that before. I guess great minds do think alike."

"You think my mind is great?" John snorted. "Hardly."

Now it was Sherlock's time to frown. "You're actually pretty smart, John. Stop doubting yourself."

John blushed. Sherlock looked down. They didn't speak again until the pizza was brought over. John divided it up, pushing three slices in Sherlock's direction. "Eat. All of it."

Sherlock tried not to gag as he brought the pizza to his mouth. Pizza was probably his least favourite food. He choked his way through two pieces, but couldn't eat the third. John looked up. He must have realised Sherlock's trouble, as he reached out and took the slice from the detective. "That's fine, two will do." He sighed. "Sorry."

"For what?" Sherlock asked. John gestured to the pizza. 

"For this. I should have just made a sandwich for you or something."

Sherlock shrugged. "I'm willing to forgive you if we can get out of this place." He glanced around the room again. The girl had fallen asleep in the corner, and the cashier looked like he was about to fall asleep too. John rose, and Sherlock followed.

They walked back in silence.