Loyal (Johnlock)

Secrets Revealed (John's POV)

We had been having the world's laziest of lazy days. I was snuggled deeply into Sherlock's chest, his hand rubbing up and down my back as he lazily and idly stared down at me. I tried to focus on just the news, or whatever show was on, but Sherlock was very distracting.

"S'lock," I mumbled, yawning slightly.

"Yes, love?" Sherlock kissed my forehead and my eyes closed in pleasure, a soft huff puffing from my mouth. Sherlock had quickly took hold of the pet names- constantly jokingly calling me his little love hound, puppy pet, or anything else dog related. I started giving him kitty nicknames, it became our thing.

"We should go do something, kitten." I smirked as he chuckled. He had a liking of the cat nicknames I had dubbed upon him.

"Like what, my little hound?" He stretched a minuscule amount under me.

"I'v been low on books lately...and I haven't seen London in seemingly years." I laughed nervously.

"Speaking of books, I did find this small bookshop you'd love. It even has a small cafe inside, however, the bookshop keeper seemed to know much more than I did...I would like to pull on that string a little bit more," he hummed thoughtfully as I stood up, smirking.

"The world is your ball of yarn, isn't it, kitten?" I patted his head and gingerly made my way to the door. My feet were either getting better or I was becoming used to the stabbing pain I had endured all during my run back home. My hands, however, stung at even the thought of picking something up.

"Yes, it is." He hugged me from behind, hands wrapping around my waist and his head burrowing into my hair. I felt warm and happy and loved. Best of all, I felt wanted instead of needed.

"Let's go to the bookshop, then." I turned around and kissed his lips before grabbing my coat. I looked down at my too big and borrowed striped pajama pants and shrugged- I had already impressed the only person I was worried about impressing.

"You're going in pajamas?" Sherlock pulled on his trench coat and grabbed his blue scarf.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because I might not be able to keep my hands off of you," he was suddenly pressed up against me, lips touching my ear, "you look nice in my pajama pants, though you'd look better without them." He abruptly stood and opened the door as I yipped in surprise and blushed from my toes to the roots of my hair. I knew I had a suggestive smile on my face that probably matched Sherlock's. I could only chuckle as I walked out of our flat, Sherlock tagging along behind me. He grabbed my hand, swinging the connected appendages between us. Mrs. Hudson was just climbing up the stairs with a tray of tea as we were going down. She squealed when she say us.

"Finally!" She cried gleefully, easily bustling past us and into our room. Sherlock grinned and kissed the top of my head. I smiled, stood on tip toes and kissed his cheek.

It was a long and cheery walk to the bookshop. Sherlock only forced me to stop once on our trip, just so that he could buy me a colorful flower.

"Thank you, kitten, what is it?" I pecked him on the lips and then brought the flower up to my face, smelling the muted, earthy scent of the plant.

"I honestly have no clue, I think a daisy," Sherlock purred, tugging me along beside him. When we did finally make it to the bookshop, Sherlock was greeted excitedly by a large, fat, and oddly lively old man. He wore a white button up shirt with a blue bow tie with red polka dots and sagging sweat pants. He had gray hair which formed a pointed beard that sharply jutted off his chin. One of his eyes was sealed shut, most likely due to the long white scar that cut across it. His other eye was zipping about, a dull and muddied blue color.