It's just fluff... There's nothing more too it... It's just Johnlock fluff. T.T

I don't own any characters that you recognize. If I did, Johnlock would be cannon. End of story.

I hope you enjoy this little one shot!



John was typing. Sherlock was lying across the couch, listening to the constant click of the keys beneath John's fingers.

He thought about John's fingers for a moment. His hands, really. Gentle and soft and always warm. No matter how cold it was outside, even if John wasn't wearing gloves or mittens, his hands were always warm. Sherlock could always depend on that.

He tuned in to the clicking of John's fingers on the keyboard again. He turned just enough to be able to see John out of the corner of his eye. John was staring down at the screen. The computer had his undivided attention. Sherlock knew that John only gave two things that sort of attention. The computer and himself. Whenever he was deducing or thinking or working through something, John always seemed to give him his utmost attention. He would watch the detective with an intense and curious gaze that Sherlock always appreciated. It was good to know that someone actually paid attention to him and wasn't just anxious to know the results of the process.

John's lips turned down at the corners. "Is there a reason you're staring at me, Sherlock?" he asked without diverting his attention from the screen. His fingers never ceased their constant clicking, either. John was good at that. Holding conversations while typing and never getting the two confused as so many people did.

"Nothing," Sherlock muttered, staring back up at the ceiling again.

The clicking stopped. "It isn't nothing," John insisted. "You were giving me that look."

"What look?" Sherlock asked innocently.

"You know. The one that tells me that you're thinking way too hard and want to talk about it. I'm listening, you know."

"You're typing."

"I can do both at the same time, you know," John said. Sherlock heard the familiar click of the laptop closing. He glanced to the side again. John had clasped his hands on top of his laptop and raised his eyebrows at the man on the couch. "Better?"

Sherlock looked up again. "Slightly." He paused. "Actually, I was just thinking about your hands. And your attention span. And your ability to focus so intently."

"You were thinking... about me."

Sherlock sat up and turned, putting his feet on the ground and frowning. "Is that really such a bad thing?"

"Not at all," John answered with a shrug and a shake of his head. "Well, I don't think so, anyway. Depending on what you were thinking about my hands and my attention span and ability to focus."

Sherlock waved him off. "That's all there was to it, really."

John rose from his chair and seated himself beside Sherlock. "Really?"

Sherlock glanced up at him. "Yes, really. I don't usually say things that aren't true."

"That right there. That wasn't true."

"To you, I mean."

"You should have clarified. Because what you just said to me wasn't true."

"Stop it," Sherlock scolded. "You know what I meant."

John sighed and leaned back. Sherlock did the same. He put both of his hands on either side of him. He felt his brush against the back of John's. Neither of them bothered to move. Warm. As usual. "I usually know what you mean," John agreed softly.

Sherlock closed his eyes. He could feel the warmth radiating off of John. He could feel John's hand against his. John's hand was shifting. Reaching out, Sherlock realized. He thought for a moment before allowing his fingers to be caught up in his partner's. He heard John sigh. He liked hearing those little sounds of contentment from the doctor. He scooted closer, so their bodies were touching as well, and turned into John, resting his other hand on the shorter man's leg.

"You do seem to understand me more than most," Sherlock mused softly.

John hummed his agreement. His thumb stroked Sherlock's hand. "It's not an easy thing to do, either," he said, laughing. His fingers squeezed Sherlock's. "But it's worth it. You're worth it."

Sherlock thought for a moment. "Thank you, John."

"For what?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I can honestly call you my friend."

John scoffed. "You'd better. People who aren't friends usually don't get into the kind of trouble we do."

"Nor do they cuddle on the couch," Sherlock added.

"We aren't exactly friends though, are we?"

"In a way, yes. In a way, no. But you've missed the point."

"Have I?"

"Quite. Thank you, John, for staying with me. No one has ever done that before, you know."

John snorted. "Gee, I wonder why."

"Watch it, you," Sherlock teased. He wasn't quite used to being able to take this sort of tone with someone, but found that he enjoyed it. "I have the ability to say no sex for a week and there's nothing you can do about it."

"You wouldn't," John said.

Sherlock opened his eyes and turned his head. "I would."

John's eyes lit up as he smiled and leaned in to steal a kiss from Sherlock. Sherlock was more than happy to oblige. He leaned into John, moving his hand from John's leg to the back of his neck and pulling him as close as was possible. John moaned softly, another content noise that Sherlock had grown rather fond of.

Sherlock was the first to lean back. He smiled at John.

John beamed back. "I love you, Sherlock."

It was Sherlock's turn to hum happily. He closed his eyes and leaned against the doctor once more. "I love you too, John."

*sigh* I was apparently in a slightly fluffy mood. And this was the result.

Please review! :)

Thanks for reading!