Sherlock oneshots

Johnlock~ Just one drink

HEYHEYHEY WE HIT 4K READS! How cools that?!?! I'm honestly so shocked, thank u all! That might not seem huge compared to other Wattpad stories, but I didn't think I'd make it past 100 reads, better loan 4K! So yeah, I decided I had to post something. This isn't anything special, it's been sitting in my drafts for a while and I just thought now was a better time than ever to post it.

I apologise if ur sick of Johnlock, but I honestly love it more than anything so this is what we're doing. Hope u enjoy, and thanks again for all the love and support!

(I also wanted to point out requests r open constantly, so if u have anything u wanna see from me please don't hesitate to ask!)

It was dark, the sky completely black with the occasional splatter of stars. A brisk, cold breeze blew through the quiet streets of London, whisking up the leaves and carrying them in the air. It was almost silent, until a loud buzz sent the sleeping birds in the park trees scattering quickly away in the opposite direction.

John groaned, the noise sending shockwaves threw his already pounding head. He pulled out his phone, squinting as it lit the dark street.

'John? It's been hours, when will you be back? SH'

He cursed under his breath. This was the 5th message Sherlock had sent him whilst he was out. John had met up with some of his old army friends for a drink, one turned into two, two to three, three to four, you know how it goes. The doctor had always been a bit of a lightweight, so after his sixth drink he had to call it quits before he passed out at the bar. He was trudging home, alone, drunk and nauseous as anything, and now even Sherlock was worried.

He attempted to text back, but the numbers shifted and moved and it made his head hurt, so he just didn't bother. He'd be home soon anyway, right? He knew he recognised the area, he had to. As he approached the nearest sign of buildings and stumbled to a door, he quickly realised he wasn't at all in the right place. In fact, he quickly realised he had no idea where he was.

He saw the bright glow of a 24 hour corner shop in the distance and mindlessly wondered towards it. The second he pushed open the door he was overwhelmed with a migraine and grunted, leaning over in the doorway to try and calm the nausea. Easy to say people in the shop were concerned and began fussing around John, making noise and talking loudly, which only made him feel worse.

He tried to choke out a word, to ask where he was, but he was just muttering gibberish which went over the shop dweller's heads. The more he tried, the worse he felt, and it wasn't long before he felt an odd churning sensation in the pit of his stomach. Even in his drunken state John knew what was coming, making a dash for the exit and making it to a patch of grass before throwing up.

He heaved for a good 5 minutes, emptying his stomach of anything he'd eaten in the last 24 hours, maybe in the last 3 years by how much. He fell to the floor, holding his head and his middle with tears burning in his eyes. He had no idea where he was, he was drunk, felt ill and was completely alone. He fumbled for his phone, but couldn't hope to type an even readable message to send to Sherlock. Sherlock.

His clouded mind raced as Sherlock's name came up. A lady from the shop, the clerk probably by the way she was dressed, ran over to the sobbing mound on the floor with a worried face. "Oh my, what's the matter love? What's happened?" She asked, comfortingly running a hand over Johns sweat covered forehead.

John couldn't hope to answer her questions in his state, so opted to just say whatever his mouth would let him. "S-Sherlock." He mumbled, the lady cocking her brow in confusion. "Sherlock!" He called, as if shouting for the detective to come to his aid. "S-S-Sherlock." He broke into a fit of tears, curling his head into the store clerks side.

The clerk had no idea what to do, he was clearly drunk, clearly sick, and very clearly upset. She spotted Johns phone in his pocket, the screen glowing with a new message. She quickly reached for it, pulling it out and reading the message whilst massaging the short mans hair gently.

'John, I'm getting concerned. Can you at least let me know you're alright? SH'

The lady breathed a sigh of realisation as she read the contact name. "Sherlock." She said, John repeating her threw sharp and heavy breaths. Without another thought, she rang the number.

"John?" Sherlock's deep voice erupted from the phone, deep worry threaded within.
"My names Michele, I work at a corner shop. I think I've found your friend.."
"Y-You've found John? What's wrong with him? Where is he?"
"I think he's drunk, he's been sick and collapsed, he's clearly very upset and is calling your name. Your names Sherlock I presume?"

Sherlock felt a lump form in his throat, having to swallow hard to talk again. "Y-Yes." He whimpered into the phone. He grabbed his coat off the door hook and pulled it on, heading for the door. "Where are you? I'm coming to get him."

———-

John hadn't let go of Sherlock the whole cab ride. The detective had arrived in a cab and picked a drunk and sobbing John up from the corner shop. He'd gotten himself miles away, it was just lucky someone was around to find him.

Sherlock had his arm tightly around his bloggers shoulders, resting his chin on his head and whispering comfortingly to him. "S-Sherlock." John whimpered. Sherlock hummed in response. "M'sorry." He slurred.

The detective felt his heart clench. He took his head off of Johns and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, putting his hand against his cheek. "Please don't do that to me again." He said quietly. John pushed his head into Sherlock's chest and exhaled deeply, the taller man hugging him tightly.

John's stomach audibly gurgled, causing him to hold it tightly and groan. Sherlock didn't have to be, well, Sherlock to know what was happening, so he placed his hand over Johns abdomen and held it forcefully, trying to just hold it at bay until they reached Bakersstreet. He could feel it flipping and cramping under his touch, and without warning John was sick all over himself and the back seat.

Long story short the cabbie was fuming, so kicked to the two men out of his car and drove off. Sherlock carried John back bridal style, since he was far too weak to walk himself. He continued to kiss his temple whenever he stirred or when his swollen middle would give him grief. He didn't care how drunk he was, how irresponsible he'd been, or how much he smelled of sick, he loved John and wanted him to feel better.

They spent the rest of the evening cuddled into each other, the flat quiet and undisturbed. When John was sober he didn't remember anything of the night, the kisses or what he'd said, but Sherlock made a mental note that his blogger was a cuddler when he's drunk..

Waaaay. I think this is kinda cute, it's not the best but it's something. I might do something special for 4K reads, but for now I hope u enjoy the semi early update :)