One shots (johnlock fluff mostly)

Battered and bruised

A/N: if you would like a part two comment and I'll fulfill your wishes!!

"Damn it John!" Sherlock muttered as he stumbled under Johns support.

"You can't blame me for this! You jumped out of a window into a skip, it's your own fault you miscalculated and twisted your ankle!" John pointed out as he secured Sherlock's lanky arm more firmly around his shoulders.

"I don't miscalculate John" Sherlock mumbled and then stumbled again.

John sighed irritatedly and turned to face Sherlock properly, they were a mile or so from the next main road and at this rate they'd probably be there by sunrise. John considered this as Sherlock studied him, brows furrowed in confusion, one leg straight the other bent slightly just on his tiptoes.

He looked miserable, the rain shower that had drenched his curls earlier on making his fringe plaster to his face, his eyes tired and a slight sheen of sweat from all the energy required when hobbling on one foot.

"You know what, fuck it, just, I don't effing care what people say!" John decided fiercely before stepping right up to Sherlock and bending down, looping Sherlock's arm back around his shoulders before slipping his own arms, one under Sherlock's knees and the other under his arms. Sherlock yelped in surprise and wiggled in embarrassment at being manhandled in this way.

"Sherlock, it would help to stop gittering like a animal caught in a net" John sighed tiredly as he secured his hold on Sherlock's wriggling form and began his trek to the main road, at least maybe they would find some civilisation that on this deserted country road.

"John, I am fine, I can walk you know" Sherlock pointed out with a huff, but when John jiggled him up higher across his forearms he instinctively tightened his hold around Johns neck.

"You can," John agreed "but it will take forever and it's late and I don't really want to die on a deserted road where a ratty car passes by every hour with smoke blaring out, because from what I can tell we still haven't caught one of the murderers as he did a runner when you injured yourself so yes, you can walk, but I'm not letting you"

John then continued his steady pace back to the main roads, where he hoped would at least have some street lighting instead of his current situation of trying to guide himself by the stars.

Naturally Sherlock became bored, as he always did, he pulled his phone out his pocket only to shove it angrily back in with a groan, John smiled at that, 'course the great Sherlock Holmes wouldn't be used to having no signal. Maybe that's why he avoided the tube?

Eventually, however, John did discover a main road, lit with rusty paint flecked street lamps and a car every two minutes, full beam on and making Sherlock hiss like a vampire in daylight-that would explain a lot to be fair- as they drove pass.

John tightened his grip on Sherlock, he wasn't really into the idea of hitching a ride, the study in pink had taught him enough about that. Hitch a ride when your vulnerable/desperate and found dead next morning, wasn't really something John wanted to happen. He could see the headlines now:

"Famous detectives of Baker Street, played at their own game found dead in abandoned warehouse in cornwalls countryside."

Yeah, that wasn't something ghost John wanted to ever see on a headline, a death by natural causes would be more acceptable but not until old...stop thinking about dying John! John cursed to himself as he began to walk towards what appeared to be a little town.

"Where are-" John was cut off.

"Marazion" Sherlock answered for him, his voice brisk and clear in the cold night air, it was summer, why was it cold? "We're near the sea, John, we just came out of a country lane, see look to your right, st michaels mount." Sherlock pointed out.