A collection of Johnlock oneshots

Drugged

It was a Saturday morning when John made his way out of his boyfriends (empty) room and into the kitchen.

"Sherlock?" He called, wondering just where the detective was. He didn't get a reply. Maybe he was in the bathroom?

John was about to go and check when he noticed on the kitchen work top, next to the kettle there was a circular metal tray containing a cup of what smelled like fresh coffee, a piece of toast complete with butter and jam and also a small white vase with a single rose in it.

John smiled, glancing round for his boyfriend one last time before reaching out for the coffee. It was still hot and surprisingly (considering it was made by Sherlock) very good coffee.

John lifted the tray onto a small clear(ish) space on the table and set about eating his toast. The jam was raspberry, his favourite and the slice was gone within less that a minute, washed down by a rather large swig of the coffee. John hummed in content.

He sat there a while, finishing the hot beverage and starting to wonder again where Sherlock actually was. He hadn't seen him since they fell asleep last night.

However, he wasn't allowed to wonder for long before he started to feel very droopy and dizzy indeed. John set the China mug on the table, not wanting to drop it, and gripped hold of the wood. His eyes squeezed shut before he opened them wide once more, attempting to gain full focus in his vision. Shit, he thought.

It wasn't long before he realised there must have been something in his coffee or maybe even in his jam but it was too late now.

A few short seconds of consciousness passed before John suddenly blacked out, falling off of the chair and onto the floor, just managing to shout out a raspy "Sherlock" before he did so.

~~~

When John woke he wasn't at Baker Street. He wasn't in his and Sherlock's bedroom and he most certainly wasn't wrapped up in his boyfriends arms like he normally was.

The room he was in now was rather plain. All four walls were brilliant white, there was an oak wardrobe and an oak chest of drawers against one wall and a dressing table against another. There was a large mirror resting against one wall but all John could see in it was the white wall it was opposite.

The man sat up with a start, kicking the thin sheet that covered him down. He was in the same clothes but he didn't understand where he was.

"Sherlock?!" He called out. John got out of the bed, swaying a little on his feet and having to grab hold of the nearby furniture to stop himself from falling. He noticed a bruise on his leg from where he must have fallen off the chair when he blacked out.

How long ago was that? A day? A week? John didn't know.

Having regained his composure John began to make his was out of the room he was in.

He soon found out that the rest of this house/apartment was much like the white room.

"Sherlock?!" John shouted out again, stopping to listen for a reply. He didn't get one. But he did hear the low rumble of boiling water from his left somewhere which sounded unmistakably like a kettle.

John followed the noise, well aware that whoever he found was very unlikely to be Sherlock.

However, as he turned a corner, John caught a glimpse of the famous dark mop of curls and the body he loved attached to them.

He let out a large sigh. Thank god.

"Sherlock!"

The younger man turned round at the sound of his name, a wide smile on his face. "John! Surprise!" He replied, marching towards him.

The pair met in a tight hug, John squeezing way tighter than he needed to, still slightly panicky and unsure about what had happened.

"What happened? Where are we? Are you okay?" John asked all at once.

Sherlock answered just as frantically and now slightly worried. "Nothing, Paris and yes why wouldn't I be?"

"Well I blacked out at home and then woke up in a strange place and- wait did you say Paris?"

Sherlock looked just as confused as John did now. "Um. Yes?"

"Why the hell are we in Paris?" John asked.

"I wanted to surprise you."

"What? How did we even get here Sherlock?"

Sherlock's brows furrowed as he explained. "Well. I thought we needed a holiday away together but I wanted it to be a surprise. So I put a sleeping drug in your coffee-"

John cut him off. "You did what!? That was you?!"

Sherlock continued talking. "And then took one of Mycroft's private jets and had us flown here. Are... Are you not happy?"

"Wait so, you drugged my coffee?"

"Yes." Sherlock replied simply.

"Why!" John was a little irritated now.

"Well I wanted it to be a surprise."

Joh sighed. "Jesus Sherlock."

Sherlock was still confused. "Did. Did I do something wrong?" He questioned.

John looked up at his baffled face. God, he looked adorable. He sighed, unable to stay angry. "No of course not. Come here." John held his arms open and smiled when Sherlock buried his face in the crook of his neck.

"Although," John started, "next time you want to surprise me, just tell me, don't ever drug me again Sherlock I was terrified."

There was a pause before Sherlock mumbled "Duly noted."

The pair pulled apart and shared a couple chaste morning kisses before suddenly John pulled back and grinned.

"We're in Paris." He whispered, excitement prominent in his tone.

"We are." Sherlock replied simply.

"I've always wanted to go to Paris."

"Me too"

"What should we do?"

Sherlock thought for a second before once again grinning and answering, "Everything."

(a/n sorry this wasn't my best! Just got back from Paris and felt inspired!

I'm assuming you've all seen the clip from the special? OH MY GOD I CANT WAIT!)