A collection of Johnlock oneshots

"Nigh Jawn"

Sherlock was drunk. No, he was more than drunk. He was hammered, wasted, wiped out, whatever you want to call it.

Johns was also drunk.

They say next to each other on the sofa in the living room of 221b as Sherlock basked in this new (well, newish) feeling.

"John." He slurred, fight a loosing battle with his heavy eyelids.

"John." He repeated, a little more awake this time.

"Joooohn!" He said for a third time, much louder as he realised that John had been fighting the same battle and had apparently lost. He shook his friends shoulder, gently at first, but slightly harder when he didn't wake.

"Huh? What no. No I'm not. Sherlock was just-"

"John!! Wake up. Now." Sherlock interrupted his miss-matched, dreamy sentences.

"Huh? What? Yeah yeah, I'm awake. Calm your tits." He just about said as he rubbed as much of the drowsiness from his eyes as he could.

"You... Were... Asleep." Sherlock half spoke half yawned. It was 2am to be fair.

"We should probably go I bed." John tried to stand up, almost faltering as he grabbed Sherlock's shoulder for support. He blinked hard a few times, getting used to his surroundings before heading towards the kitchen.

Sherlock followed him.

He assumed John was going to use their bathroom but he walked straight past it and into Sherlock's bedroom, taking off his jumper and throwing it on the floor. He began unbuttoning his shirt as he sat down on the bed and soon it was off and joined his jumper.

Sherlock was about to ask why he was undressing in his room and not his own but decided he was too tired and too drunk to have a discussion about it.

John yawned while he unzipped his jeans, fighting to get them off him like a child would, after they had become tangled.

Sherlock shrugged, more to himself than anyone else, as he started to undress himself as well, except he folded his clothes neatly and hung up what need to be in his wardrobe.

When he turned back around, he was dressed only in his boxers and so was John who had fallen asleep on top of the duvet, legs hanging off the side.

Sherlock sighed and tried to see straight as he did his best to position John in a way he thought would be comfortable for the man before covering him up.

Eventually he climbed in next to him, rolling onto his back so he could sleep like he would normally.

Sherlock was just drifting off when John began to fidget and soon he felt an arm, drape across his chest and a soft head of hair rest on his shoulder.

"John..." He whispered, secretly hoping he wouldn't here and they could stay like this all night.

"Shu-tup Sherlock." He slurred and gently kissed the piece of soft, pale skin under where his lips were.

"Nigh John"

"Ni Sherlawk"