Oneshots

A Johnlock christmas special

Two steps, key inserted, door unlocked, welcome home, John Watson.

I opened the door and closed it behind me, feeling my energy recharge in the presence of the familiar flat.

It was a bloody long day.

I was worried sick because Sherlock had disappeared. Again. Not even Lestrade could find him. He was gone for a whole week, and I had no idea where he was. I haven't gotten a wink of sleep for the last two days, so I was completely exhausted as well. The worst part was that it was early October, the start of the coldest time of year.

The only thing I could do was hope that, wherever Sherlock was hiding, he would be clever enough to try and not freeze to death.

I trudged upstairs and came into the living room, only to find a tall and slender figure somehow fitting his whole mass into a thinking position on the armchair, making him look one third of his actual size.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" I demanded, internally relieved to see him sitting there, but fuming on the outside.

"Looking for a case." Sherlock replied casually, still not moving a muscle.

"Looking for- you mean you weren't even on a case? You've just been wandering around London for the last seven days?"

"That about sums it up, yes."

I shook my head, striding over to where the other man was sitting. Dark circles ran around his eyes, indicating how exhausted he was. His nose and cheeks were red from the cold. I grabbed Sherlock's cold wrist and tugged up the sleeve, checking for needle marks.

"Oh for God's sake, John, I'm clean!" He declared in an irritable voice. I confirmed the loss of needle marks and nicotine patches to fit with Sherlock's honesty.

I suddenly felt a prick in my nose, and only then noticed the horrid smell coming from Sherlock.

"I think you should take a bath." I stated simply. I left Sherlock on the chair and went to prepare him one.

When the bath was full, I returned to the living room, seeing Sherlock in the exact same position I left him. "I'm going to get some chinese takeout. Meanwhile, you can go get yourself warm and cleaned up." I announced, already turning to leave.

"Why should I?" Sherlock challenged, and I didn't even bother turning back to answer him.

"One, because you smell like death, and two, I'm a doctor. I happen to understand and care a lot about personal hygiene." I retorted over my shoulder and left without another word.

Damn him.

Damn him and his clever antics.

I got three takeaway meals, two of which I was going to feed to Sherlock, because I could see he was as hungry as a homeless man.

I returned to the flat, and found that Sherlock was still in his chair.

I dropped the bag on the kitchen table, and went back towards him. "Well come on then. If you're not taking a bath now, we can just as well eat." I said and ushered him to the kitchen.

Sherlock hesitantly took a bite, then gradually started eating normally. He didn't touch the second meal, but I was happy that he finished the first.

"Alright, now go take a bath." I instructed him and started clearing away the plates. Sherlock again hesitated, but left without complaint.

Only minutes later, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket.

John, I require a duck.

-SH