Sherlock oneshots

Johnlock~ eyesight

Hi everyone! I've been trying to keep an even pace with writing this book, and I had a little inspiration so, have some Johnlock!

It was a normal evening in 221 Bakersstreet, John was reading the paper in his chair, and Sherlock was working on some bazaar experiment in the kitchen behind him. It was piece full, for once.

"John?" Sherlock called, causing John to turn around and raise his eyebrows, as if to assure him his attention we on him. "Can you read this out loud for me? I can't-" he gestured to the goggles on his eyes, which were partly steamed up. He held up a bit of paper with some scribbled numbers on it. It might not have been the neatest handwriting, but it was readable from where John was sat.

Yet, lowered his brows and hummed as he noticed the letters were, blurry? Smudged? Moving? He squinted at them, even dropping the paper as he tried his hardest to focus on the squiggly symbols. "Ermmm, 5, 7, 2-" He stopped for a minute, the last number stumping him. "6?" Sherlock nodded in thanks and put the sheet down, going back to his experiment.

John returned to reading the paper, not thinking much of it. "OW!" Sherlock yelped from the kitchen, making John spin around quickly. A vile of some strange looking liquid in a test rack was flaming, glass all over the side from where the rim had exploded. John jumped up and rushed over, filling up a glass with water and pouring it over the flame, putting it out.

"Sherlock what the hell was that?" He snapped, glaring at the detective. His expression softened as he realised he was nursing his hand, which looked cut up and burned. He reached for it, Sherlock letting him look. "Oh you stupid git, what even happened?" Sherlock shrugged innocently.

John began looking for a med kit in drawers, Sherlock starting to clean the side up. He lowered his brows at the bit of paper he'd held up for John, realisation washing over him. The numbers were, different on the paper. John has told him the wrong numbers, that's why the damn thing blew up.

"John?" He said, John looking up from the living room. "What?" The shorter man asked after noting his friends suspicious facial expression. He pulled up the sheet, pointing to the 4 numbers. "3579, not 5726!" He snapped. John glanced at the page again, still unable to see the numbers clear at all. He shuffled. "Oh, sorry Sherlock." He mumbled quickly.

The detective tilted his head a bit, seeing his friend squinting at the page he was holding. "Can you even-" he gestured again to the page. John quickly ignored him, grabbing the med kit from under the desk and opening it. He pulled out a roll of bandage and started coming over to Sherlock.

"N n n no, stay there." The taller man instructed, making John stop in his tracks. He picked up a pen from the table and scribbled something down quickly on a bit of paper. John sighed. "Sherlock your hand." He said, annoyance rising in his tone. "Just, stay there a second." The detective said firmly.

Reluctantly, John stood still and waited. Sherlock held up the bit of paper, using the pen to point to the words. "What does this say?" He asked. John swallowed visibly, licking his lips nervously as he tried to make out the words without squinting. He looked down at his feet. "Let's have a look at your hand, come he-"
"No, what does this say?"

The shorter man held the back of his neck in slight frustration, some at Sherlock for being such a prick, but mostly at himself for not being able to see the stupid words. He forced his eyes shut and grunted.

"Sherlock I don't kn-"
"Can you not see it?"

Sherlock's tone was gentle and concerned. John bit his lip and looked down, shaking his head quickly after a while. The detective nodded. "What, can you see?" He asked. John looked up at the paper, letting himself squint as hard as it took to see absolutely any letter on the page.

"I see- I can see I, or, is that a- is that a 1.." He gave up and shrugged , Sherlock mentally taking notes. "Okay, what do they look like?" He asked.

"They look smudged, like someone's spilled water on them, a-and they move sometimes. It's just- all around blurry, I-I can't read it." He admitted, clearly embarrassed. Sherlock put down the paper and walked towards John, pulling his head up to face him.

"It's okay, don't be embarrassed. Has it always been like this?" Sherlock asked, John rocking his head. "Not recently, I remember having a hard time seeing the board when I was a kid, and occasionally when looking at menus behind the counter, and-" he stopped as he caught sight of Sherlock's smirk. "Yeah, it's always been like this.." he sighed.

The detective nodded. "John, I think you may have dyslexia." John tutted. He'd heard that term being a doctor and all, but he'd never thought he'd actually had it. Although, it would make a lot of sense...

"There's not much we can do out of the house, but maybe we could get you tested? Find a colour that's easier to read off of for you? I could, read things for you if their written down if you'd like." John felt his cheeks sting, he'd never had anyone be so nice to him. When he'd brought this up with anyone before, they'd just shaken him off. Maybe that's why he ignored it for so long.

"Thank you Sherlock." He said warmly, the detective smiling. The shorter man suddenly couldn't resist the temptation of leaning his head on Sherlock's chest and fell forward, Sherlock closing his arms around him. "Thank you." He muttered into his chest.

From then on, Sherlock read the options off the black boards in new cafes aloud, not making it obvious it was for John, it sounded more like he was talking to himself. John also noticed important notes that had been previously left scribbled on the white board were now appearing on red sticky notes on the wall, and the buttons on the remote were changed from white numbers on black background to black on red. They also went and got him tested, and he was in fact, as Sherlock predicted, was dyslexic.

He bought some red filters to help with reading, but he didn't find himself needing them that much when Sherlock was around. He always found himself smiling hard when his friend listed off the stuff on each TV station, or when he read aloud every item on the menu in the chippy. He would even sit and read the paper aloud when John would get too frustrated to read it alone.

Who knew such a rude git could be so, so sweet..

I thought I'd do this so I can relate to someone for a change. For the record, I have dyslexia so I thought I'd portray some of the stuff I have trouble with through John! It was pretty fun, and made me even more jealous I don't have a Sherlock. So if u ever wondered y I make such bazaar spelling errors, here u go! I'm dyslexic 🙌