Various x Ftm Reader

Nonesense ||Sherlock x Reader x John||

"We're all dating."

You shook your head.

"What—why are you shaking your head?" Sherlock asked, growing worried.

"I can't have two pretty boyfriends."

Sherlock blushed a bit, John smirked.

"I like him like this." John said, earning a glare from Sherlock.

After several more minutes, you were discharged, and John and Sherlock were given basic instructions on your care, and how to spot any potential problems.

Once you got home, John and Sherlock helped you into the flat, and managed you to get up the stairs. Sherlock carried you into what was technically his room—the three of you split the rooms in the flat. Sherlock's bed was bigger than John, due to Sherlock being fond of sprawling as he slept, but it usually ended up being the "shared" bed. The three of you took turns sleeping with each other, obviously needing to work around Sherlock's cases.

John stayed back in the kitchen, making you food, as you hadn't eaten in a while, while Sherlock adjusted the pillows, and wrapped you up under the covers. John had recommended just putting you in one of the chairs, or on the sofa, but Sherlock thought it'd be easier this way to make you a pillow throne, and wrap you up in blankets.

"Sherlock. Sherlock."

"Yes?"

"I have a secret."

"I probably already know this."

You shook your head adamantly. "No, you don't know this."

Sherlock sighed.

"Alright, fine. What is it?"

"Come here."

"I am here."

"No, I mean, come here."

Sherlock sat beside you on the bed. You leaned forward, and rested your chin on his shoulder.

"Sherlock."

"Hmm?"

"I'm hungry."

"Okay, John's taking care of that."

"No. I want you to."

Sherlock stared at you for a moment. "John!" He called, getting up and walking to the door. "John!"

"What?"

"Something's wrong with him!"

John walked out of the kitchen.

"What? What's happening?"

"He wants me to make him food."

John only rolled his eyes, and turned around back to the kitchen. "He's just loopy, Sherlock. Don't worry."

Sherlock sighed, and looked back at you.

"Who was that?" You ask.

"Who? John?"

"Oh! John! He's my boyfriend. Tell him I'm hungry."

"He's my boyfriend, too. And he's making you food."

"Oh, good...wait...we have the same boyfriend?"

"Yes, y/n, we've been over this."

"Oh...do the...do the medicine people know?"

"The medicine people?" He asked.

You nodded adamantly. "Yes, the medicine people. Do they know?"

"Know what?" Sherlock asked, curious as to what you were getting at.

"Where I am."

Sherlock looked at you for a moment.

"They wouldn't let me be hungry." You added, as though it gave an additional explanation.

"Oh, you mean the doctors and nurses. Yes, they know where you are."

"Do they know I'm hungry?"

"Probably." Sherlock murmured.

"Why are you all the way over there? You're so far away."

"I'm right next to you, I'm simply on the edge of the bed."

You sighed dramatically. "That's really really really really far away."

Sherlock opened his mouth, but was interrupted before he could say anything by John entering the room.

"Food is ready."

You gasped. "How did you know I was hungry?"

John chuckled. "I'm good at these things. I'm a doctor."

"He called them 'medicine people' earlier." Sherlock stated. John rolled his eyes, and handed you the soup—knowing it would be easiest to digest after surgery.

You shook your head. "No. He called them medicine people, but he was wrong."

"Oh, so that's how it was?" John asked, looking over at Sherlock with fake suspicion. Sherlock frowned back at him, though he was concerned about how long this would last.

"It looks like a yellow moon." You murmured before scooping up a spoonful, and slowly bringing it to your lips.

John left the room, and quickly came back with paper towels—Sherlock has since moved closer to you, and made sure you didn't spill anything. John still placed them on your lap, and some to your side just in case.

You were still loopy, and every couple of bites, you would pause to comment on the food.

"Here, I'll just take that from you." John said softly, gently grabbing the bowl—not wanting to snatch it from you.

"What? No! It's my precious!" You shouted, pulling it back.

John still kept a calm hold on it. "Y/n, please."

"No, I need it."

"Okay." John agreed, though he didn't let go.

"I need it." You repeated.

"I just want to put it on the table. Right there." He gestured to the side of the bed. "You'll be able to have to back soon, but I think you should be a little less loopy for this."

"...fine. But I need it back." You let it go.

"Thank you. You can have it back soon, I promise." He took the bowl, and leaned over to put it up.

You leaned towards him, and placed your head on his shoulder. John chuckled, and slowly sat back up, turning towards you to slightly support your body.

"I'm tired." You mumbled into his shirt.

"That's to be expected after surgery, love." John said, running his fingers through your hair.

"Come here."

"I am here."

"No. I mean...here."

"Oh, okay." John moved gingerly to get under the cover with you, as he was still supporting your weight, and as he laid down, you laid down, too, placing your head against his chest as if the plethora of pillows surrounding you didn't exist.

John motioned Sherlock to join—as he was growing at your sudden burst of affection towards John. Especially when he had been the one worried about you. But he still crawled in with no complaint, careful not to make you feel uncomfortable or in any pain. He ended up curling up by your side, holding your hand.

John laid there, looking up at the ceiling, while absentmindedly playing with your hair. He didn't know how long he was laying there, but when he looked down, he saw both you and Sherlock fast asleep, and decided that checking the time was less important than letting you both be at peace.

A/n: obviously I'm back. That didn't take too long imo :>