One shots (johnlock fluff mostly)

The poison is also the antidote

Sherlock was running hard, his feet slapping the rain soaked ground, dirty water splashing up his trouser legs as John chased as well, racing to catch the killer. Sherlocks coat flew behind him and his scarf blew over his shoulder, the rain had soaked through his many layers and his hair was drenched with single drips of water running down his face as he ran.

Sherlock felt himself yanked sideways by his upper arm into a wall with John just as a bullet whizzed by where he had been standing. Sherlock felt adrenaline race through him, a near death experience that would have been his end if his blogger hadn't been there. He grinned at John as they leapt from the wall and began to chase again, seeing that the killer had abandoned his gun.

The killer ended up blocked in a dead end alley way and the armed police soon pinned him down after knocking him out with the butt of a gun, he fell unconsciously to the floor in a heap and the case was quickly solved.

When they had finally managed to hail a cab they clambered in and told the address to the cabbie who then began to drive off towards 221b. Sherlock shuddered as he felt the cold soak through his skin, chilling him to the bone. He felt a pounding in his head and squeezed his eyes tight against the pain in an attempt to block it out.

He couldn't register what was going on around him so he never heard what John had just said, he soon felt a hand placed on his shoulder and opened his eyes turning to look at a worried John.

"Are you okay?" John asked carefully, holding his hand on sherlocks trembling shoulder.

Sherlock nodded and then leant his head backwards against the head rest, closing his eyes and letting out a pained sigh.

John looked at Sherlock and moved himself closer to the detective so he could study him closely. He tentatively rose a hand and gently rested it on Sherlocks forehead, Sherlock froze but then continued to try to relax into the chair, his cheekbone pressed against the window. John could feel that he was burning up and clearly wasn't all that well.

When they made it to 221b, John clambered out the cab, dashing round to the other side to help Sherlock out, he hooked his arm around the taller mans waist and pulled his arm around his shoulders, supporting his weight.
He hauled Sherlock up the stairs and then carried him to the sofa, Sherlock fell asleep as John laid him down.

John slipped off the taller mans coat and hung it up along with his scarf on the banister to dry off and then went to make tea for him and Sherlock.

When he came back to Sherlock he saw his blazer was also drenched and his shirt was clinging to his skin, see-through from the rain so that John could see his pale skin through it. John unbuttoned his jacket and shirt and slipped them off the detectives shoulders until he lay there with his torso bare.

John sighed as he looked for something to make him wear instead, he then resided to grabbing one of his jumpers from his wardrobe and heading back down to the sleeping Sherlock. He carefully guided Sherlocks arms through the sleeves so that he was wearing the jumper, John smiled at the way the detective looked. 

John sat down next to Sherlock after laying a blanket over him to warm him up, Sherlock woke and sat up, yawning widely as he began to open his eyes more. He began to feel cold through his layers and felt his skin sting as goose bumps covered it.

He began to feel sick but just as something was about to come up, John held a bowl under his chin. Whilst Sherlock was being sick John stroked his hair out the way and rubbed his back as Sherlock dry urged into the bowl, his stomach contents empty but his body still trying to empty itself.

Sherlock was shaking and felt weak, the illness taking over. John hugged him tightly trying to calm the shuddering Sherlock, he gently rubbed at Sherlocks jumper covered belly trying to make him feel more relaxed and take away the tenseness of his stomach.