Sherlock oneshots

Johnlock~ crutch

Sorry for the lack of updates, thinking up new ideas that don't clash with the ones I've already written is proving hard. Any ideas or requests u have, plS comment! Helps me keep this book afloat :)

Imagine this- a soaking wet, agitated and starving John Hamish Watson, lugging himself and a significantly taller man named William Sherlock Scott Holmes, up a huge steap and drenched hill. All whilst it pours with rain.

"John I assure you I can walk myself up this hill."
"Did I ask if you could or not? No, I didn't."
"But you're clearly tir-"
"Sherlock, you've done your ankle in, iF I let you walk by yourself not only would you damage it more, you'd be annoyingly slower than me."

Sherlock tutted and attempted to push himself off of John, only to grunt as he lent his weight on his injured foot. His knees buckled and he fell, landing on the puddle covered ground. John groaned and held his temple. He forgot how stubborn Sherlock could be sometimes.

He took his shoulder and tried to help up the detective, again taking his weight. "Come on, it'll be easier this way." John said calmly, trying to hide the utter desperation in his voice. He was soaked through, on the edge of freezing. It was taking all his efforts to keep his teeth from chattering.

They again tackled the hill, John lugging his friend up it without a single break. The weather only got worse, changing from heavy rain to hail and even heavier downpour, to thunder and lightning. Things couldn't get any worse.

As they reached the top of the hill, John allowed Sherlock to lean against a tree as he regained his breath, panting and puffing to catch what he'd lost hours ago. He looked down at his pale hands and sighed as they shivered madly. They needed to get home fast, he could tell Sherlock wasn't doing much better than him.

"Maybe we could flag down a car?" John suggested, earning a sarcastic laugh from Sherlock. "Hitchhike to our deaths? I don't think so." John cursed under his breath as he tripped on a crack in the road, making Sherlock fumble to get his balance. "Well- we sure as hell cant continue like this!" He snapped, looking up the mist covered road to spot any sign of light or people or anything remotely comforting.

But nothing, just them and the road. Great.

They continued on, the both of them getting more and more agitated by the second. They'd come out here for a case, but by the time they'd even arrived at the scene it was pouring with rain, so the team had packed up and left. It was in the middle of a forest, a way away from any roads or taxi stops, so Sherlock and John were borderline stranded. And that was apparently a great time and place for Sherlock to trip down a hill and sprain his ankle.

"John." Sherlock chattered, his teeth giving in to the freezing weather as he spoke. John hummed in response, kind of absorbed in just ignoring where they were and why they were there, and just getting home to Bakerstreet. The taller man noticed, and tugged on his shirt to get his attention. John hummed again, more loud this time.

"John, I see a building."

John looked up and felt the life rush back into him. It was a building, and even better, an inn.

With a new found determination, the shorter man lugged Sherlock to the Inn door and allowed him to take his own weight again, so they could walk inside and look more.... presentable.

They walked threw the door, wiped their feet and made it to the desk, looking soaked, tired and fed up. What a lovely sight for the Inn keep working there. "G-G-Good evening-g, we were w-wondering if-f-f we could-" John stopped himself mid sentence, realising the very apparent stutter in his voice.

"If we could book a room." Sherlock finished, his deep voice somehow maintained despite their previous situation. John sighed with relief and nodded to the worker, who agreed and handed them a key.

The two men made their way up the stairs, Sherlock limping behind despite John's content offer to act as his crutch again. The shorter man obliged, and just focused on the warm bed he was soon to fall into.

John jammed the key into the lock of the door and jiggled it, trying to turn it both ways but failing both times. He grunted and pushed at it, winding himself up more and more every time it stuck. "Come on, Come on. Open you stupid-" he stopped his murmurs as Sherlock placed his hand over his bloggers, rubbing it softly and slowly.

"John, calm down. It's alright. Give it here.." he took the key from John's hand, pressing it into the lock and turning it slowly. It clicked, and the door creaked open. John took in a sharp breath and tried to keep himself from breaking into tears. He was in one of those moods, y'know when you're just so tired that even the littlest things upset you to the point of crying?

Sherlock chuckled softly, patting the shorter man's shoulder before walking- struggling- into the room. Any other time, that contact would've sent John's stomach wild with butterflies, made his heart beat 70 miles per hour. Even in this foul mood, he still felt his face go flush.

He shut the door and wondered over to the bed, falling face first onto the sheets. He ignored where his limbs all landed, his feet getting mud on the white covers and cold hand falling onto Sherlock's wrist and the bed frame. The detective had also fallen onto the bed, starting to take off his shoes and drenched coat. He knitted his eyebrows together as he looked down at John, noticing he wasn't making an effort to change out of his soaking wet clothes before going to bed.

"John." He said bluntly, not looking up from untying his shoelace. "You should probably undress, you're quite wet." The room fell back to silence, finally driving Sherlock to look at his blogger. "John?" He lowered his head to try and meet his friends eye. "John? Are you-" ah, that's why.

John was out like a light. Fast asleep, already snoring before getting his coat off . Sherlock couldn't help smile at how charmingly adorable the shorter man was when he slept, but decided to wait until his friend was out of those soaking clothes. He stumbled up, limping around to undo John's buttons and save him from his wet garments.

Course he averted his eyes- sometimes. Once John was in bed, he got himself out of his own wet clothes, then settled into bed next to John. They only had one room with a double bed, and both men were in no mood to bargain.

He felt John's cold hand move to touch his own face. "Night Sherlawwk." Squeaked John. The detective smiled, taking the shorter man's hand. "Night John.."

Short n sweet, hope u don't mind XP