Just Another Parentlock: Sherlock

I'm deathly in love with the show Sherlock. So most of the fanfics I've seen on this site are about 1D. If you don't know much about the show well... yeah, go watch it. xD anyways, sorry for the people who do know the show, i spelled it like Ms. Hudson and not Mrs. Hudson. but im too lazy to change it. ANYWAYS! This is a fanfic including some fluffy Johnlock and Parentlock later on. Plus I haven't proof read and its still a rough draft... So yeah, go wild.


1. Growing Tired

Ms. Hudson dismissed John of the last bits of cleaning he had to do so he could go off and rest his leg. It had been acing more than usual due to the cold rainy weather and the stress he had been forced under. Mycroft Holmes had told him about how Doctor John Watson needed stress to keep him sane but this was different. Sherlock had been gone all day- this was also usual except once again it was different. He had stormed out yesterday night and hadn't returned. The lack of cases had made the grown man restless and quote on quote… bored. John rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had absolutely loved the time they had to just calm down and relax. In Sherlock’s mind he found such a topic as “a lack of cases” tedious and it made him want to go out and act… inhumanly which was also normal. John pulled his laptop up from the floor. Everything in the flat had been left just the way it was the day before- a few dishes in the sink, Sherlock’s bloody experiments lying on the kitchen table and in all of the appliances, books tossed about as if they were ripped rags, the worn furniture that sat around the flat as if they were pulled from random shops all over town. His eyes glared at the smiley face painted with bright yellow spray paint which contrasted with the white and black wall. He had never noticed the little quirks about the place he unconsciously called home. Each wall hung either bullet holes or newspaper articles on cases the two men had solved- mostly Sherlock of course. John smiled, and heard clumsy footsteps up the stairs. The army doctor knew exactly who it was and stood with a beaming expression, knowing their past few quarrels were long forgotten. Sherlock strode into the room, fumbling to get his scarf and coat off.

                “Sherlock…?” John helped the man shrug his coat off and hang it on the rack along with John’s torn ones.

                “Need to sleep John, get… get me up the stairs…”

                “Sherlock… you’re… You’re bloody drunk!” the shorter one called out and reached out to catch the taller one who began to slump backwards.

                “You promised me that this would never happen again!” John had seen the drunken side of Sherlock and had hated it. He dragged the man up the stairs and to his bedroom. He slipped off his shoes and outer shirt to reveal one below stained with different types of alcohol. John shook his head with a sigh and pulled the covers up and over Sherlock. John felt like a parent, resting against the door frame as he switched off the light and watched the being fall deep to sleep. He needed to do the same.

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