John sighed, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again and looking straight at Mycroft. "What about Sherlock and I?" He asked wearily, not really in the mood to deal with him.
"As his older brother, I feel that it is my duty to warn you of the consequences if you happen to break Sherlock's heart," Mycroft stated, completely serious.
John knew he was being serious, but the words sounded strange coming out of Mycroft's mouth. "I know that is how you feel, Mycroft, but I think that it is none of your business what Sherlock and I do. Besides, Sherlock is old enough to kill me himself if I happen to break his heart, which I have no wish to do," John stated, lifting an eye brow at Mycroft.
"I know that is so, John, but just know that I will be watching. And if you do any wrong to my brother, accidental or not, it will be me you will face," he threatened.
John bristled at the threat was just about to tell Mycroft exactly what he thought, but the door opened and Sherlock appeared, a smile on his face. Then he spotted his brother and he scowled. "What is he doing here?!" Sherlock demanded, glaring accusing at his brother.
John smirked and shifted slightly, wincing slightly as he stretched out his injured arm. Two pairs of blue/silver eyes flashed as they turned to face him. John just blinked and picked up his book in his uninjured arm, and started reading, hiding himself from those intelligent eyes.
How did they even see that? Then he rolled his eyes at himself. They were Holmes, they noticed everything. He immersed himself in the book, while the two brothers argued.
Eventually, Mycroft left, but before he did, he had one last thing to say to John. "You would do well to think carefully over what I told you, Doctor John Watson," he said, giving John a meaningful glance, which made a look of fury come over Sherlock's face.
Before Sherlock could say any more, he is gone, shutting the door softly behind him. John rolled his eyes; such a melodramatic.
Sherlock sat down on the couch with a 'huff', and pinched the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths.
John went back to reading his book, knowing better from experience than to try talking to Sherlock when he was this angry.
Sherlock's voice jolted John out of his book and into the present. "Hmm, what about it?" John asked, putting his book down and his injured arm twinging involuntarily.
Sherlock gave him a look. One that said, 'don't bother trying to hide it.'
John sighed resignedly. "What happened?" Sherlock surprised John by actually sounding concerned.
John looked at Sherlock in surprise. His flatmate was looking at John in concern, and it made John's stomach clench. "Ah
" John tried to think of something he could tell Sherlock that wasn't a lie.
When the silence stretched out, and John still hadn't told him, Sherlock, obviously getting impatient, stood and walked over the table to John. John's eyes widened in panic. He was pretty sure that the bandage would be red with the blood that was still oozing out of the wound. "Gah! No, Sherlock! D-Don't do that!" John cried as Sherlock reached out to roll back John's sleeve.
John jumped out of his chair and raced around to the back of the couch. "John! Just let me see your am!" Sherlock cried impatiently.
"It's not important!" John argued in panic, dashing up the stairs.
He heard Sherlock racing up behind him, easily catching up with his long legs. Desperate now, John made a dash for his bedroom. He wasted precious seconds opening the door. He got about two steps inside before Sherlock tackled him to the bed.
John struggled furiously, yet found it slightly arousing to be pinned to the bed by Sherlock. Sherlock straddled him, holding his injured arm by his wrist. He quickly rolled down the sleeve before John could do anything. John yanked his arm free as Sherlock stared in a shocked state at the bloodied bandages.
John cradled his injured arm to his chest and rolled to the side, half hiding his face from Sherlock. "It's not as bad as it looks," John murmured softly.
That seemed to shake Sherlock out of his trance-like state as he reached out and cupped John's face in his long hands, turning John to face him. Sherlock's head snaked down and he kissed John on the lips, expression all his feelings.
John responded instantly, and he immediately opened his mouth as Sherlock gently licked his lower lip. No way in hell was he going to admit it, but Sherlock taking control was seriously arousing to John. He could feel himself getting hard as Sherlock thrust his tongue into John's mouth, making John moan. John reached up and tangled one hand into Sherlock's thick black curls. God, he loved those curls.
"Sherlock?" John gasped, as Sherlock started nibbling on his neck, making John turn to jelly again.
"Mmm?" Answered Sherlock distractedly, divesting John of his jumper.
"I love your hair."
Sherlock pulled back and looked at him. They both laughed, sitting up and hugging.
John was reading his book again, sipping his tea. Sherlock was lying down with his head in John's lap, his new favourite position apparently. Boxes of Chinese littered the coffee table, evidence of what they had for dinner.
John was absently running his hand through Sherlock's hair, who was staring up at John, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. John found it extremely distracting that Sherlock was watching him, but it was obvious he was in his 'mind palace' as he liked to call it.
Sherlock suddenly bolted upright, yelling triumphantly, startling John. He grabbed his coat and scarf and was gone. John sighed, so much for a nice relaxing evening
Bored now of his book, John texted Greg and Mycroft to meet him at the bar. He had a feeling those two would be perfect for each other. Currently, Greg was in the middle of getting a divorce with his wife, and was a little stressed, so John figured a night out would do him some good. Contemplating on whether or not to leave a note, John shrugged. Sherlock didn't need his constant worrying; he was a big boy and could take care of himself. Nodding, John grabbed his coat, key, wallet and phone, locking the door behind him.
John thanked the cabbie and paid him as he got out; he walked into the bar and quickly located Greg and Mycroft. Waving at them he smiled and ordered a beer as he sat down next to them. "Greg, this is Mycroft, Sherlock's older brother. Mycroft, this is Greg, he's the DI that can put up with Sherlock," John introduced, chuckling.
As the night progressed, John was feeling smug as Greg and Mycroft got closer and closer. They all got a little tipsy ; and at one point, Greg and Mycroft started kissing. "Ha!" John exclaimed, wobbling on his seat. "I knew you guysssss were perfect for one another!"
Greg just giggled and patted Mycroft's cheek. Mycroft leaned in and started kissing down Greg's neck, making him giggle. John whipped out his phone and started filming, giggling and swaying as he ordered more drinks and steadily got drunker. John caught on camera Mycroft getting completely drunk and confessing 'his undying love' and that he's 'never seen a man as handsome as you' and that 'we should go back to my place and bang until we pass out'.
John was giggling hysterically, didn't notice the time until Sherlock called him. "Hellllloooo?" He slurred, giggling slightly.
"John? Where are you?" Sherlock asked, worry clear in his tone.
"I'm uh.." he held the phone away from his mouth. "Hey, guys, where am I?" He asked, giggling.
"I dunno, but I know where me and Greg are gonna be soon," Mycroft slurred, winking at Greg.
Greg giggled, "Oh Mycroft! You're so romantic!" Greg exclaimed, purring at Mycroft and leaning in to kiss him.
"Sorry, Sher, I have no idea where *hic* I am," John said, ordering another drink and sculling it. "But, hey! I have an idea! How bout we have sex! *hic* As soon as I get *hic* home!"
Sherlock sighed. "John, you're drunk. I'm coming to get you, don't go anywhere."
"OK, Sher!" John cried happily, giggling again.
He leaned over to the others and yelled, "Sher is going to pick me up! So, I'll see you guys soon, right? We *hic* have to do this again sometime!"
They both agreed loudly, and ordered a round of shots.
As John reached for another shot, a long pale hand shot out and stopped him. He whined and glanced up. Sherlock was staring down at him. "Sher!" John cried, launching himself unsteadily off his stool and at Sherlock.
Sherlock stumbled under his weight, and held him back at arm's length, much to John's drunken disappointment. Sherlock stared over John's head in amazement. "Is that my brother snogging the face off LeStrade?!" He asked gleefully.
John shook his head, smiling. "They were doing so much worse than snogging!" John cried, waving his phone around madly.
Sherlock snatched the phone off of him and shoved it in his pocket. "Come on, let's get you home," He said, steering John out of the bar and into the cold streets.
John shivered violently, having left his jumper at home, and scooted up against Sherlock for warmth, still giggling and swaying. Sherlock looked down at him and sighed, taking off his coat and making John put it on.
John giggled, "Sherlock! It smells like you! It's amazing and sexy!" John cried happily, inhaling deeply.
Sherlock looked down at him, a soft grin of amusement spreading across his face. John suddenly pressed Sherlock against a wall, leaning up and kissing him passionately, but sloppily. Sherlock made a noise and pushed John back. "John," he started, looking uncomfortable.
John ignored him and pressed his hands up Sherlock's shirt, and onto the warm skin underneath. John pressed his weight against Sherlock, keeping him pinned there, as he kissed up and down his neck. Sherlock shivered, and then shoved John away from him.
He loomed over John, a dark expression on his face. John, ignorantly drunk, giggled, and tried to kiss Sherlock again. Sherlock grabbed John's hand like one would a child's and dragged him to their flat, not even looking at John, who was giggling merrily.
John woke in the morning to a pounding headache that always came with hang overs. He groaned, opening his eyes a bit, and immediately shut them again, the light too bright for his sensitive eyes. The sound of curtain's being pulled across sounded a hundred times louder than normal, and John groaned in protest.
John carefully opened his eyes again and was relieved to find it bearable. He half sat up and looked around, noticing Sherlock sitting cross legged on his bed, watching him with a distant expression. John groaned again. "Dear god, what the hell happened last night? How much did I drink?!" John asked, rubbing his eyes.
Sherlock raised an eye brow at him. "You don't remember? Nothing at all?" Sherlock asked, and it seemed to John that he should remember something
John frowned, slowly shaking his head. Sherlock rubbed his temples, cursing under his breath and closing his eyes. John frowned, trying hard to remember what happened last night. The bar, Greg and Mycroft making out repeatedly, then
oh God. He had made several attempts to have sex with Sherlock. "Oh, God, Sherlock. I am so sorry!" John apologized, rubbing his head.
A funny smell made John look up and he saw Sherlock holding a funny coloured drink. "Here, drink this, it will make your headache go away," Sherlock said softly.
John looked up at him gratefully, and took the drink without hesitation, trusting Sherlock to not poison him. John grimaced as he sculled the drink; it tasted disgusting.
John put the glass on his bed side table and studied Sherlock. He was watching John carefully, his eyes filled with some strange emotion John couldn't discern.
"John, last night
would you actually have wanted to have
with me? Or was it only the alcohol?" Sherlock asked quietly, looking down and hiding his expression.
"Yes and no," John replied carefully. "Yes, I would have liked to have sex with you, but not while I was drunk. I want our first time together to be perfect, not just because I was a horny drunk."
Sherlock looked up with relief and John realised he was insecure about how John felt about him. He also realised that Sherlock had told him he loved him, but John had never told Sherlock the same thing. Crawling forward towards Sherlock, he pulled him into his embrace. He leaned down and whispered in Sherlock's ear. "I love you, Sherlock. Don't ever doubt that. I will always love you, no matter what happens," John promised, placing a kiss on his neck.
Sherlock let out a sigh of relief and relaxed in John's arms. John slowly leaned back until he was lying flat on his back with Sherlock on top of him. He gently kiss Sherlock's forehead and they both relaxed, content to just lie in each other's embrace, their hands finding each other and easily tangling together.