Johnlock Oneshots

Breathe

Big trigger warning! I tried to represent John's PTSD. I used mine for an example, things like sensory overload and agitation are a lot of things I experience during my anxiety attacks. The most minuscule thing can piss me off, which I feel like could happen to John a lot.

If you have anxiety, I'm here for you! You go my anxiety babes! Also anyone with depression or any other thing that makes them miserable! Enjoy!

-

John just wanted to breathe, needed to breathe, but he couldn't...

His eyes watered and his throat tightened, hoping that he could get out his head.

What's wrong with you!? Huh? It's was just a war!

Just a war? Just a war, it says! John hated his head sometimes, it was more of an insensitive prick than he was. People died. His friends died. Every day he felt like he was on his last word, his last breath. He hoped he hadn't wasted his life, that his sister and Mom were going to be ok.

"John! We have a case!"He heard Sherlock exclaimed from outside the door.

"I'll pass Sherlock.."John said back, hoping that the words he said could be heard through the door.

"But, John, I need you..."Sherlock whined, foot tapping against the floor.

John's teeth clenched at the sound, too much noise, too much talking. He could hear the cars outside, the people talking in the streets, he could hear Sherlock breathing.

"You don't need me, I'll...You'll be fine.."John said, pushing our his words, trying not to grab the nearest thing and throw it at the door.

The door creaked open and John threw himself back-first onto the bed, exhausted.

"John?"Sherlock asked, before silencing his words.

Moving over slowly, Sherlock leaned over to the bed and John looked at him through the corner of his eyes.

"No more case.." Sherlock said, assuring the doctor, "I'm here."

"Mhm.."John voice more seemed as a whine and he shook, arm buckling as he tried to sit up for Sherlock. Sherlock caught him and guided him up as slowly as he could.

Sherlock's eyes stared into his as John wheezed, his hands were freezing. So we're his feet. Sherlock shivered at the touch of him.

Sherlock sat on the bed with John and grasped his hand as hard as he could. John attacked him suddenly with a hug, leaving a wet stain on Sherlock's jacket.

"John, listen to me. Just breathe, it's going to be ok. I have you now."Sherlock whispered into the top of his head, kissing it.

John looked up at him, sucking in a breath, "Sherlock?"

Sherlock kisses his cheek and John smiled as bright as he could, still trying to breathe, hiccuping and gasping with each breath. Sherlock decided to lay down with down, noticing how sleepy John got.

-

Daylight broke through John's window and Sherlock blinked and yawned. His arms were wrapped around John protectively, John's cold feet curled up with his, still freezing. Sherlock hissed at the cold.

"Morning, Sherlock.."John muttered, turning his body toward the detective.

"Hi..."Sherlock said, looking into his baby blue eyes.

"Damn.,"John muttered, before kissing him softly. Sherlock complied instantly as he felt John's hand playing with one of his stray curls.

"Thank you.."John muttered against his lips, kissing the corner of his mouth. His face was still red from the tears, body still tense.

Sherlock sighed, "No problem, Love.."

-

I hate romanticizing something like mental illness, but I attempted to make it different. Sometimes you just want to be held in this lonely world. Luckily John has someone like Sherlock that can help him and knows what to do from experience.

You just feel like you're being sucked in by the world, those thoughts aren't yours and you're in a constant spiral. Life sucks, people suck, everything sucks. It's a bad mindset, but it's what I grew up with. Just 'survive', suck it up and deal with it. I probably have these bad mental issues because of my non-sympathetic parents.

Don't listen to what they say. If you aren't happy, try to make it better. You can always get out of something. Sometimes you may need extra help, but you can do it! The world gets better.