Sherlock oneshots

Johnlock Part 1: Bi Milk

*AUTHOR'S NOTE*
*THE CHARACTERS DO NOT BELONG TO ME, THEY BELONG TO BBC SHERLOCK  AND SIR ARTHUR CONAN-DOYLE.*
*THIS IS JUST A FANFICTION*
*THIS STORY IS SET DURING THE FIRST TWO EPISODES OF SEASON 2*
*PLEASE NOTIFY ME OF ANY INCONSISTENCIES. MANY THANKS*

For five months now, John had tried dating; unsuccessfully. He did not understand what was wrong with him. His dates were took to fancy restaurants, given delightful conversation, and were all treated as if they were royalty. So why did the majority of them not come back for second dates? And why did the ones who did come back think he was disinterested in them? Was it him or them?

John had been replaying these thoughts in head for two days now, and had spent the whole time sulking at 221B Baker Street. Even Sherlock had noticed his friend's moody and adolescent behaviour: refusing to go outdoors, buy the groceries, and making more sarcastic comments than per usual. Unbeknownst to John, he had worried the sociopath he was living with, and Sherlock had decided to help him.

By buying the milk.

This was a milestone for Sherlock as he had never actually bought milk before. Never before had he the need to buy milk, so he had let other people do it. When he was a child, his parents bought it. When he was a teenager, Mycroft bought it. When he was a student, his drug dealer or Mike Stamford bought it. When he was an adult, Mrs Hudson or John bought it. However, he decided to put aside his inexperience for his distressed army doctor.

Out of the comfort of his apartment, Sherlock stepped out confidently and speed walked to the corner shop. He later would regret this decision, as thirty seconds later, it started to rain quite heavily. Sprinting, he was able to cover the last few kilometres to the shop relatively dry. Instantly, a swarm of deductions hit Sherlock, but he decided to push them aside for John. John needed comfort; Sherlock needed milk; Milk makes Sherlock happy; John needs Sherlock; happy Sherlock makes John happy. After 3 minutes and 27 seconds in that stuffy little shop, Sherlock had bought milk, a newspaper, and an umbrella. The umbrella was leopard print- which made Sherlock uncomfortable- but it was better than nothing at all.

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He hastily opened the door to the flat, and rushed up the stairs like a child excited to show off an achievement to its parent.

"John! John, look! I was able to actually buy the milk!" he shouted ecstactically to the miserable blogger who sat slumped in a jumper on his armchair.

"Good for you, Sherlock." John murmured not realising what his friend had just said. Then it dawned on him.
"You bought milk?"

"Yes, John. I thought I had made that quite clear."

"B-b-but y-you never b-buy the m-m-milk! I always h-have t-to d-d-do it!" he stuttered due to his confusion.

"Well, you were upset." Sherlock stated this as if his friend was meant to understand, but John just looked at him as if he had just spoke a foreign language, "And I thought if I bought the the milk, it might make you feel better."

A wave of emotions hit John who ran out of the living room sobbing. The detective was left standing in the middle of the room wondering why exactly he had just done that. All he had done is bought milk. He decided to reevaluate the facts and look at the doctor's body language to indicate why he had ran out for no apparent reason.

Then he realised why he had had an elevated pulse and dilated pupils.

John loved him back.

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He had figured out why his dates were unsuccessful. He did not want to love them.

He loved his best friend: Sherlock Holmes.