Johnlock Oneshots

8 - The Blanket

Sherlock's cold and John has a blanket.

WARNINGS: None, just something fluffy I came up with :)

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Sherlock was bored and cold and lonely and coffeeless and caseless- and John wasn't paying any attention to him. He was laying on the sofa watching the stupid TV and grinning, laughing, smiling even when Sherlock glared at him from across the room. Nothing was working to divert his eyes from the screen and it was getting to the point where Sherlock seriously considered searching for Johns handgun and shooting the wall just to get attention. Not that he was an attention seeker... he just didn't like it when John wasn't paying attention to him. Strictly speaking.

Sighing Sherlock curled himself up into his chair, somehow slotting his whole body onto the small seat. His legs were pressed flat against his chest but he didn't care, it was cold in the flat and his partner wasn't bothered enough to warm him up. He could go and get a blanket but it wasn't worth having to stand up, not when the airing cupboard was upstairs in John's room. He wasn't sure why it was up there exactly, but it was and it was unpractical and completely unnecessarily rude. Sherlock sighed again and looked back over at John who was mocking him with his blanket thrown across his legs, not entirely covering him but enough to boast that he did indeed have a blanket and it was so warm that he didn't even need the whole of it to keep his warmth. Just plain rude.

Not only did Sherlock have no blanket but he'd also spilt sodium hydroxide over his only clean dressing gown mid-experiment today, so it was laying on the kitchen table ready for Mrs Hudson to notice it and hopefully wash it for him. John had refused to wash any of his experiment mishaps after he'd had a bad reaction when picking up one of his shirts, so now all Sherlock could do was obnoxiously leave his clothes lying around in hope someone would take pity on him. So far no one had, so he was left to fend off the cold with no blanket and no dressing gown.

He had to do something before his feet literally turned blue.

Sherlock stood up but didn't move from that spot, not sure what his intentions were and questioning his brain for thinking it was a good idea to uncurl himself in the first place. Then he remembered John wasn't taking full advantage of his own blanket and decided if he wouldn't, Sherlock would. He  walked over without saying a word and climbed almost on top of his blogger, wrapping his arms around his stomach and curling their legs together.

"Christ Sherlock, your feet are freezing." John hissed, not even questioning Sherlock's sudden urge to cuddle with him.

"That's because it's -5 in here and you're hogging this blanket." Sherlock mumbled, pressing his face into Johns neck and smiling when John flinched at his cold nose.

"Why didn't you just go and get another one?"

"Too far."

"Lazy sod." John replied, wrapping his arms around Sherlock and pulling the blanket over them both. Johns heat surrounded him and he shivered involuntarily as waves of warmth shot down his spine, his cold feet pressing against John's leg to warm them up quicker.

"Besides, you're warmer." Sherlock commented.

"Not anymore, you're making me cold." John said quietly, his fingers threading into Sherlock's hair and gently playing with the curls. He had always had an obsession with his hair but Sherlock wasn't complaining, he loved the soft touches and the calmness that swept over him.

"Your fault for letting me get cold in the first place." He said, closing his eyes and focusing on the hand in his hair.

"How'd you work that one out?"