Johnlock oneshots (2009, RDJ version)

Scarf

"Holmes, why are you wearing my scarf?"
Holmes was draped on the couch, hat sat jauntily (covering his face), wearing naught but a shirt and trousers, Watson's scarf wound tightly around his neck and pressed to his nose.
"Did you enjoy the opera with Mary last night, Watson?" Came Holmes' voice from beneath the hat.
John shook his head in annoyance. "Holmes..."
"I was simply attempting to trace your late journey last night through London by the smells of your scarf, Doctor. The distinctive perfume of Mary mixed with the splashes of fountain water indicate the opera, while the-"
"I do not care, Holmes, I wish to know the truth." Watson leaned forward and plucked the hat from Holmes' head. Two brown eyes met the doctor's and the detective blushed slightly. "Why are you wearing my scarf?"
"The truth, my dear Watson, is nothing more than I've told you." Holmes glanced away.
Watson leant down to grip the scarf. He tried to tug the brown and blue strip from Sherlock's neck. It was wrapped tightly however, and wouldn't come away.
"Give me my scarf."
A pause. "No."
John frowned. "Why ever not?"
Holmes cleared his throat. "Well, I er... it suits me better."
Watson pulled it viciously. "Give. It. Back."
Holmes pulled back. "No!"
"Sherlock-"
Holmes let go in surprise. He watched as John slung the scarf around his neck, unaware as ever, the ends dangling loose in front of Sherlock's face. Watson caught him looking and raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Sherlock..." Holmes whispered. "You called me Sherlock."
John blushed, and tried to hide it by turning away. "So?"
"So, you never call me that... John."
The red flush enveloped John's face and he bit his lip.
"I have a few deductions to share with you, Watson." Sherlock said. John opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Holmes began to talk, fast and sure as always. "First of all, your breathing is erratic- your shoulders and chest rise unevenly when you breathe, and I presume your pulse is much the same. Secondly, you're biting your lower lip to stop it trembling, which, from observing you for many a year, I have learned is a sign, in you, of nerves. Third, and perhaps most interesting, are your pupils."
"My pupils?"
Holmes reached up and grasped the ends of Watson's scarf, pulling him down so their noses were but an inch apart. "They are extremely dilated."
He lunged upwards, pressing his lips against John's. Watson broke it off immediately. "We can't... I'm - we're both men- and Mary..."
Sherlock looked into his eyes, a pleading expression written on his face. "John?"
Upon hearing his first name uttered, John melted into Sherlock's arms. He let Holmes' mouth engulf his, shedding his coat and lying on top on the detective, Mary forgotten and gender no longer a problem.
    Sherlock grinned into the kiss, parting his lips ever so slightly. As the opportunity arose, John probed his tongue into Sherlock's mouth quite suddenly, and the detective's eyes widened in disbelief and pleasure. He wrapped his arms around John's neck, pulling the doctor down. Watson's hand slipped and he collapsed onto Sherlock's chest, and both men were giggling hysterically, mouths still joined.
    Sherlock, removing his hands from John's neck, mumbled softly, "Do you know how long I've wanted this, my dear Watson?"
    John shook his head as best he could.
    "Too long," Holmes whispered, and John felt a hand fiddling with his shirt buttons and another gliding down his back, gradually reaching the waistband of his trousers.
    He smiled and helped Sherlock with his shirt, wriggling out of it, sighing as he felt Holmes' hands roam his back, tracing the panes of muscles he'd built in the army. John slid his own hands under Sherlock's shirt and teased him, drawing light circles with the tips of his fingers. Sherlock, being a ticklish bastard, squirmed a bit and giggled, and soon they were both once again in fits of laughter, high on pleasure and adrenaline, bolder and fiercer than usual. John reached up and ran his hand through Sherlock's mess of curly hair, and looked into his shining eyes.
    He hesitated for a second, then opened his mouth. "God, I love you, you handsome bastard."
    Sherlock grinned. "I'm undecided myself."
    But from the look on his face, John knew that wasn't quite true.

    I hope you enjoyed! (Don't worry, I'm sure they'll be plenty more smut later)