One shots (johnlock fluff mostly)

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A/N: as promised...

"John I have to leave for a month. Some mission from Mycroft" Sherlock explained to his friend. His blogger.

What if this time, he didn't come back, sure, Sherlock seemed to always skin death but whenever it was one of Mycroft's missions he always came back injured. What if he left and he still didn't know people in the world cared for him, loved him even.

"So you'll be back in a month at most?" John asked.

"At least" Sherlock decided sadly. In all honesty he didn't want to leave.

He packed a small suitcase with what he deemed necessary, suits, shoes, pyjamas, attempted fitting his lock picking set and microscope into the case but opted to leave the microscope as it most certainly didn't fit.

He was about to leave when John emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a warm blue jumper that brought out his eyes, deep blue jeans, a white shirt and worn shoes. He held something in his hand and went right up to Sherlock, taking the suitcase from him.

Sherlock was about to object when John set the suitcase on the table and opened it, but stopped short when he realised John was just packing his toothbrush for him because he clearly had forgotten it when he was caught up in other thoughts.

"Thankyou John" he said quietly.

"So what are you dealing with this time?" John asked.

"Shcokovitch, suspected from the Russian mafia but it's yet uncertified. He's been suspected of having taken part in the murder of several men in their thirties. No evidence, so I've been called in to prove either way" Sherlock explained simply.

Russian mafia? What if it went wrong and John never told him.

Sherlock has picked up his suitcase and was holding it by the side handle, his coat on and scarf hanging round his neck not yet tied.

"Sherlock, don't hate me, it's just there's something I need to do" John explained slowly as he wring his hands together as though nervous.

Sherlock nodded with a frown and John nodded to himself before stepping closer to Sherlock so they were almost touching.

"John?" Sherlock questioned.

"Just don't say anything" John said softly and before Sherlock truly understood what was happening, John had lifted his hand to Sherlock's cheek and then guided his head down and closer to Johns as John met him in the middle.

Sherlock's breath caught when Johns lips touched his, gentle and testing the waters, his hand carding through into Sherlock's hair and scrunching his hand lightly in the curls.

He gently let his tongue run along the seam of Sherlock's mouth and Sherlock's mouth parted in a gasp as Johns tongue brushed inside. Tasting him. Taking him apart on the doorstep.

After maybe a minute Sherlock got braver and did the same back, trying to reciprocate the actions, the suitcase clattered to the floor and the latch burst so that clothes fell out onto the floor and silk pooled at their feet.

Sherlock's hands cradled Johns face but also holding on as though afraid of letting go. John pulled back, Sherlock chasing him slightly before realising what he was doing and blushing.

"Take me with you?" John asked quietly, his breath sift against Sherlock's damp lips, Cooling  but warm.

Sherlock could only nod, not trusting his voice. He'd never been kissed before. Maybe he was starting to understand why people did it now.

"I love you, you brilliant gorgeous man" John breathed, said with such admiration that Sherlock's breath caught and he felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

"I love you too John" Sherlock whispered as though said to loudly and he'd shatter like glass.

"Right I should probably pack some bits" John said gently with a small chuckle. He went to fetch his stuff but noticed Sherlock looking uncertain of himself so he grabbed his hand and brought Sherlock with him so he wouldn't be afraid.

He packed his things and then they headed to the living room and repackage Sherlock's items before closing both suitcases securely and then licking the flat. John hugged Sherlock close to him, a silent promise to protect and care. Sherlock pressed his face into the showing skin of Johns neck, breathing in his warmth and scent.

They began their journey with Sherlock half in Johns lap in a first class carriage on a train up to Scotland. They stayed like that most of the way.