One shots (johnlock fluff mostly)

Protective army doctor (part 3)

They decided to walk to the pub considering it was only a few blocks away. John swung his arms in his usual soldier way and soon Sherlock was doing the same, mimicking John like a stretched shadow.

"Your to stay with me this time, okay?" John asked sternly, and Sherlock nodded.

"Yes John" Sherlock agreed, still nodding his head.

"J-Watson, you can say your my husband because the numbers are different, what names begin with j?" John thought aloud and Sherlock began to scan through his mind.

"James?"

"Too much like Moriarty" John pointed out, "jack?"

"Jacques?" Sherlock offered.

"Peculiar like you, and you could do a French accent to match the name!" John said excitedly, and Sherlock nodded too.

"Iz zis any gud?" Sherlock asked, looking at John sternly and John couldn't help but smile and lean up, kissing him on the cheek.

"Come on, just down here isn't it?" John asked, as he sped up his pace and Sherlock had to jog to catch up.

They were soon in the bar, John having purchased them both a beer to keep to the act. He handed Sherlock a glass who looked at his with distaste before taking a sip and grimacing.

John just chuckled and they sat down at the stalls to watch carefully and listen with attentive ears.

"John, him over there, that's the man!" Sherlock whispered into John's ear, John turned and caught sight of the man himself, walking around like he owned the place.

"He's heading out, he's leaving Sherlock, do you have proof before we go after him?" John asked, putting his glass down that was now half empty and Sherlock followed, his still full.

"Of course I have proof, he murdered the wife, we just need to catch him" Sherlock pointed out.

"Okay, act drunk, and if anyone talks to you just speak to them in French, or something like it" John insisted, before sliding out of the stall and dragging Sherlock along.

"Need any help gorgeous?" A random man asked them with slick brown hair.

"No, he doesn't!" John bit out, snarling at the other man.

"I never asked you" the man hissed, turning back to Sherlock and raising an eyebrow with a coy grin.

"c'est mon petit copain" Sherlock slurred in a French drawl.

"What?!" The man asked irritatedly.

"Foutre le camp!" Sherlock growled and the man looked at him in annoyance before finally disappearing into the crowd.

"Do I even want to know what you just said?" John chuckled, squeezing Sherlocks hip from where his arm was wrapped around the taller mans waist.

"Probably not" Sherlock replied with a mischievous smile.

"Okay, follow my lead, no one is to touch you okay?" John said softly, he then proceeded to drag Sherlocks 'drunk' body out of the pub before they were back out on the curb.

"Any ideas where he's gone?" John asked.

"Plenty" Sherlock said before running off at a sprint, John following close behind. They soon caught sight of he murderer and ran after him, the man was agile but surprisingly not as agile as Sherlock who leaped over fences and scrambled over gates.

John eventually caught up after a particularly high wall and found Sherlock pinning the man to the floor who indeed appeared to closely resemble Jake but he had a large scar across his eye.

"Your a twin?" Sherlock asked in disbelief and John just smirked to himself. "It's never twins!"

"I beg to differ" John muttered as Sherlock pulled out handcuffs from his back pocket, carefully locking the man to a solid pipe before turning happily back to John.

"Okay, maybe I won't always rule out twins" Sherlock said decidedly, a warm smile sent down at John.

"Come on, let's call Lestrade" John said decidedly, handing Sherlock his phone.

"Ah Gavin!--no that is your name-- anyway we're near oxford street--yes, the pub--we've got the murderer from yesterday's case---okay--see you in a bit" Sherlock ended the call with a decisive snap and slipped it back into John's hand.

Lestrade soon turned up in a private police car, a BMW m5, which he then put the murderer into the back; locking it and then turning to Sherlock and John.

"John, is he wearing--"

"Yes, army uniform" John interrupted.

"Is it yours?" Greg asked.

"Of course it's John's Graham, stop being so grey" Sherlock snapped.

"Okay okay, why are you wearing it?"

"It was a disguise"

"Okay; guess that makes sense, send me details and get home, you look knackered."

"Okay, Thankyou Greg, we'll see you at the yard, if you need us call" John finished with a smile before grabbing Sherlocks elbow and dragging him away.

John continued to march home I with Sherlock in his grasp, it was only when they were away from the crime scene that Sherlock spoke.

"John you can let go now" he insisted as he twisted his arm to try to escape John's iron grip.

"Sorry Sherlock" John sighed, having forgotten before sliding his hand down to Sherlocks own and entwining their fingers.

They continued to walk home hand in hand, swinging their arms slightly as night had fallen completely, stars burning in the sky like embers in a fire.