Just a little Johnlock fluff that I just had to write. This is the first piece of Johnlock I’ve ever written as well as the first fanfic I’ve finished in a long while. I love to get feedback so tell me what you think! :3
John Watson does not like being forced to leave his warm,
comforting bed before his alarm goes off at 6 o’clock, the designated time that
allows John to dress himself and get to his work at the practice no later than
So imagine his displeasure when a few, hesitant knocks
vibrate against the walls of his flat at 2:30 in the morning.
With a tired groan, John shuffles out of his
more-than-inviting bed and towards the front door so that he can tell whoever
it is that dare interrupt his sleep to screw themselves.
But when John opens the door of his flat to see his-angelic,
beautiful, etc.-neighbor in his dark blue robe, curls tussled and just begging
to be touched, John’s irritation seems to melt onto the floor.
“Excuse me, Sherlock, but might I ask why you are knocking
on my door at three in the morning?”
Sherlock is, for the first time in his life, speechless as
he takes in the delicious sight of John Watson tired, gruff and naked except
for his bright, red pants which leave nothing for the imagination. Not until
John clears his throat (in a manner which makes Sherlock thankful that his robe
is long enough to hide the most essential areas of his “transport”,) does
Sherlock’s wits return to him and he’s able to string together a full sentence
without a stutter.
“Sorry to bother you, John, but my tarantula has escaped
from his terrarium and is, at the moment, somewhere inside of this flat so do
you mind if I take a look around?” Before waiting for an affirmative from one
John Watson, Sherlock brushes past John and starts to search the vents then the
furniture for his missing arachnid.
Not sure what to do or even as to what’s going on, John
decides to take a seat on his favorite recliner, a soft, red chair with
delicate designs that have since faded since John first bought the chair.
John is about to doze off again, despite the fact that his
strange, though cute, neighbor was still ransacking his home, when he feels a
light touch on his leg. Assuming it’s just Sherlock’s hair brushing his skin as
the young detective-in-training searches under his feet, John ignores it and,
without thinking about it, moves his leg closer to the bundle of curls.
But when his foot touches nothing but the shag carpet beneath
him, John knows that it isn’t Sherlock who is touching him.
With a jolt, John
is up and off his beloved chair and shaking his leg as if his life depended on
it (and, knowing Sherlock and his obsession with all things deadly, his life
might very well hang in the balance).
“John! Stop shaking before you kill the thing!” John stops
his shaking and watches as Sherlock grabs the hair-covered thing without a bit
of hesitation and holds it in his hand like a mother holding her child.
is a part of an experiment which I’ve been conducting for the last few weeks
and I would be more than livid if he were to die and ruin all of my progress.”
John can do nothing but watch in awe and slight discomfort
as Sherlock cuddles the bug to his chest. But still, even when he’s cuddling
with a weird - no doubt genetically-modified - spider, John still finds the man
to be beyond attractive and even more intriguing than before.
Sherlock looks back at John, catching his gaze and gives him
a small smile as he walks towards the door so that he can take his leave and
let John Watson go back to bed. But before he so much as takes a single step
out of the small flat, a firm hand is wrapped around his thin forearm.
“Um, Sherlock…just make sure that his cage is more secure
next time, yeah?” John utters in an awkward rush before removing his hand from
Sherlock’s arm, his cheeks a little blushed as he scratches the back of his
neck in one of the most adorable things Sherlock has ever had the privilege of
With a smirk on his face and a slight, un-detectable spring
in his step, Sherlock returns to his flat, his tarantula in hand as he
collapses onto his a-little-too-short couch.
“Good job. Next time, let’s make sure that we catch John in