SPN/Sherlock One Shots

Freak- Johnlock Angst

Sherlock Holmes had just come home from a case. It was an odd one, but he'd managed to figure it out, but not before the murderers dog had almost bitten his arm off. He cleaned it and wrapped it up, but knew that if John saw him like this, he'd take him to the hospital. And that... can't happen. He took a shower, to the best of his ability, to wash off the blood.

John Watson came back into the flat soon after. He makes some tea and sits in his chair, waiting for Sherlock to finish his shower, although he did want to join him quite much. He smiles at the thought of Sherlock and him in the shower together, doing-

"Boys, you've got a case!" Mrs. Hudson calls back to the two of them when she sees a young man run into the flat, panting heavily and looking around frantically like he's just seen a ghost.

"Shit..." Sherlock mutters and turns off the shower. He grabs a towel and gets mostly dressed before taking a needle and thread and sewing up the bite. He forces himself to stay silent, but has to take a break every few seconds to do so. He pushes down the pain and tells himself that screaming never fixes anything then finishes the last bit. He put some more stuff on it so it doesn't get infected and then wraps it up with gauze. He puts on a black long sleeved shirt and a coat to cover up any blood that may seep through and walks out to where Mrs. Hudson and John are waiting.

"Are you alright, dear? You look pale," Mrs. Hudson hands Sherlock a cup of tea who almost drops it. He holds the cup with his left hand.

John glances over at him, trying to test out if he's learned anything from all these years with Sherlock. He looks him up and down, slightly hesitating when his eyes are between Sherlock's legs. But that's not what he's looking for. He sees the way that Sherlock's right arm is slightly stiffer than normal. About how he winces when he uses it to take the cup of tea. And how he's holding it with his nondominant hand. Something happened to Sherlock's right arm. While he was on the case, obviously, because it was fine before he left.

"I'll be back," John stands up and grabs a cab to take him to Scotland Yard. He looks around for Lestrade until he finally sees him talking to Anderson.

"John, hey, what's up?" Greg gestures for Anderson to go somewhere else.

"Did something happen to Sherlock? On the last case?" John starts walking with Greg, who shrugs. "He's acting... weird."

"Well, he's Sherlock, what exactly did you expect?"

John chuckles softly. "Yeah, but there's something up with him."

"I'm sure it's nothing. You're probably over thinking this."

"You're probably right," John nods, thinking. "And I thought we were making sure he doesn't go on cases alone. You know, so he doesn't overwork himself."

"Yeah, no, I know. I just thought-" Lestrade starts, but John inturrupts him.

"You thought what? That it'd just be fine?" John glares at him.

"Listen John, I'm busy. So just go talk to him yourself. I told you, I don't know what happened."

"Right..." John looks down, slightly embarrassed. "See you later, Greg."

"Bye," Greg throws him a quick smile then walks into his office to look through papers.

John takes a taxi back to the flat. He knows Sherlock won't talk to him about it. He'd have to trick him into saying what happened. But how can he do that without Sherlock knowing? He brainstorms for the rest of the drive back to the flat. He talks to Mrs. Hudson for a while, getting her to help with the plan. Which basically just involves her leaving the flat for a few hours.

Once she's gone, John makes a cup of tea for himself and sits down across from Sherlock, thinking. He knows what would make Sherlock completely stop functioning. He knows that it might also make both of them uncomfortable. But, he decides it's worth it.

"Hey Sherlock?" Well, too late to go back now. Sherlock looks up and is about to respond when John stands up and walks slowly over to him. He straddles Sherlocks lap on his knees and kisses him.

A few seconds later, he pulls back and takes off his shirt. Sherlock stares down at his bare chest, blushing and at a loss for words. John kisses him again and takes off Sherlock's coat, tossing it aside. He looks down, smiling, and starts undoing the buttons on Sherlock's shirt. He takes it off him and immediately looks over at his arm.

"Sherlock!" John yells and stands up, pulling his jumper back on. "What happened?"

Sherlock looks at the ground, slightly hurt that John would use the feelings he had against him. He stands up and puts his own clothes back on, wincing. He starts to walk out of the room, but John grabs his hand. "Let go of me, John."

"Not until you tell me what happened," John walks towards Sherlock. "We need to... to go to the hospital, make sure it's not infected, get actual--"

"It's fine. I already took care of it," Sherlock says quickly and pulls his arm away.

"Just let me take you to the hospital! Let me make sure it's alright!" John steps in front of Sherlock, blocking his way out of the flat.

"I already told you, it's fine," Sherlock snaps and tries pushing past John, who doesn't let him past. "John, let me through."

"No! Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"Because I knew you'd overreact! Just like you're doing right now!" Sherlock's phone buzzes with a text and he goes to look at it. "Lestrade's got a case. Two murders. Love those! So much fun."

"Sherlock, just shut up! Would you just listen for once? Would you just stop being such a- a freak and just be normal for once!" John snaps and not even a second later, his face softens, immediately wishing he could take back his words.

Sherlock stands there, mouth hanging open at the words that John had just said. He can't even imagine how John, his John, could say something like that. He shifts to stand up straighter and forces a blank expression and all John can do is stand there, tears filling his eyes as he helplessly watches Sherlock put up every barrier he had let down since they had moved in together. John stares at his shoes, not knowing what to say. He can't move, can't speak, can't even feel anything.

Sherlock looks up at John, forcing himself to keep it together. "You were the only one who hadn't called me that," he says in the most heartbroken voice John had heard. And he had heard soldiers sobbing after their best friend had killed themself. He had heard mothers after finding out their sons have died in the war. God, he had heard Mycroft talking about Sherlock's most recent danger night.

Finally, after shoving John out of the way, Sherlock heads outside to get a cab to take him away. And he never came back to 221B Baker Street nor was he ever seen again in England.

(Hey y'all thanks for reading. So I'm probably gonna take a bit longer to update chapters and everything cuz I'm working on my other two books rn. Anywho, I love y'all <3 Have a great day/night!)