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9:00 pm
“Sherlock please, just this once.”
Sherlock stared at John’s face, looking for even a hint of sarcasm.
“John-”
“No Sherlock, no excuses. You owe me for what you did to my bedroom last week.”
Sherlock tensed at the memory.
“I didn’t expect it to go into your bedroom. It was tied up in the living room and when I came back from the kitchen it was mauling at your sheets.” Sherlock defended.
“Sheets, shoes, curtains, everything Sherlock! What made you think it was okay to keep a wolf in the flat? Where did you even get a wolf!”
“Well-”
“No.” John interrupted. “Don’t want to hear it. Just go and get ready. We’re leaving in 5 minutes.”
Sherlock sighed and stomped to his room to change.
9:45 pm
John enters the pub before Sherlock does.
“I can’t believe you took a half hour to get ready. All you did was change your shirt!”
John turned to look at Sherlock and paused at the sight before him. The warm lighting did wonders for the man in the purple shirt. He licked his lips and said, “Greg has been waiting for us Sherlock. But I’m pretty sure he’s not surprised we’re late. He knows you well enough to know you’re never on time, unless it’s for a case.”
“You invited Greg? Why would you do that?” Sherlock exclaimed. “I don’t even know a Greg!”
John sighed and pointed at the Detective Inspector in question sitting to the right of the pub's entrance. Lestrade raised his beer at them.
“Oh, Graham? What is he doing here?” Sherlock looked confused when John pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“You going to stand there all night or are we going to have a few pints?” Greg asked over the low din of the pub.
John hauled Sherlock by the arm and sat him down on the barstool to his right so Sherlock can observe the whole pub from his little corner.
“What took you two so long?” The DI asked. He smirked and turned to the young detective. “Sherlock, did it take longer than you thought to perm your hair?”
Sherlock glared at Lestrade. “You’ve obviously had enough drinks to think you’re remarks are amusing Inspector.”
“Oi. I don’t need beer to know I’m funny,” Lestrade defended.
“Alright you two, that’s enough,” John interrupted. “Two pints please,” he told the bartender.
“Thanks John, but I’m still good with the one I’m on,” Lestrade said raising his almost full glass.
John smiled. “They’re for me and Sherlock.”
“All you asked is for me to come out with you, John. Nothing was stated about me drinking with you.” Sherlock said defensively.
“Come on, Sherlock. You can’t go out to a pub and not drink a pint or two. With your past, I bet it’ll take the heavy stuff to get you even a little tipsy.” Lestrade said as the bartender placed the beer in front of him.
“Drugs have nothing to do with alcohol. I rather not find out how many drinks it will take to ‘get me tipsy.’ And from what I’ve researched, this grade of beer is awful.” Sherlock replied, wrinkling his nose at the alcohol still sitting in front of the DI.
John and Lestrade stare at Sherlock for a long moment before John finally asks, “So, you’ve never had a drink before?” John took the pints from Lestrade and moving them to sit in front of him.
Sherlock hid his embarrassment at their interest at his sober, well, some what sober past. “I had a sip of wine one Easter when I was twelve. But it’s taste didn’t stick well with me so I never had anything after that.” He admitted, accepting a glass from John.
John and Lestrade stared at Sherlock for a moment longer. “Well, there’s a first for everything,” John said, lifting his drink.
Sherlock refused to acknowledge them and stared blankly at the drink in front of him.
“Come on Sherlock. One drink. Think of it as an experiment.” Sherlock’s faced popped up at Lestrade’s words. He thought of an experiment he can do tonight:
How many ounces of alcohol will it take to get a first time drinker, as drunk as a frequent drinker.
Making up his mind, Sherlock chugged the pint in front of him, emptying it quickly. He grimaced as he lowered the glass. “Oh god, why do people drink this shit.” John chuckled at Sherlock’s words.
“Woah there champ.” Lestrade said taking the empty pint away from Sherlock. “You’re not young enough to be drinking like that. You also can’t be drinking like that with this being your first time.” Sherlock scowled at Lestrade.
After good minute Sherlock of staring at Lestrade, Sherlock noticed John’s “duck face” he puts on when he’s jealous. “One more over here, please.” Sherlock said waving down the bartender.
Hmm… If John is this jealous by the act of eye contact I wonder...
How much flirting with Lestrade will it take to make John jealous enough that he drags me home?
The bartender set the full glass in front of Sherlock. “None for you until you promise you’ll be good tonight and not get black-out drunk,” Lestrade said taking the glass away from Sherlock, “I’m not in the mood to carry anyone home tonight.”
Sherlock placed his hand on Lestrade’s knee and said, “I promise to be good and go home with you of my own free will, Greg.” With a wink he took the glass from Lestrade’s hands and chugged half of it in one gulp.
“Uh, well… yeah. Alright then.” Lestrade stammered, blushing.
John cleared his throat and said, “Sherlock, you really do need to watch how much you drink. You only ate toast this morning. The alcohol is going to hit you pretty hard.” John sighed and looked at a still confused Lestrade saying, “You’re going to do or say something you'll regret later.”
Damn it, he’s right, Sherlock thought. It takes the average man five to six pints to get drunk. Given this is my first time dealing with alcohol and not having eaten all day, it will only take approximately three and a half pints. Sherlock sighed realizing Damn. That means only one and a half to two pints to get me tipsy. That explains why my thinking process has been so off. But that also gives me...
How much alcohol does it take to lower my inhibition?
10:33 pm
Sherlock has chosen to take his time with his beers in order to attempt to store it’s effects in his mind palace. He is still on his third beer when Donovan and Anderson walk in and spot them.
“Oh, perfect. The moment I decide not to get drunk too quickly, you two appear.” Sherlock said, chugging the remainder of his beer.
“I was wondering why Lestrade invited us out tonight, but now I see why.” “Anderson flagged down the bartender, “Three more down here please.”
“Nooo. No.” John said, getting in between Sherlock and Anderson. “Sherlock. Listen to me this one time. No. More. Drinking. You're already pretty tipsy.”
3 pints of alcohol will ‘get me drunk.’
He grabbed Sherlock and pulled him away from the group. “Please, Sherlock. You already know how Anderson is and he will take advantage of you tonight.”
“How tedious. I don’t find him attractive at all. He’s with Sally anyway. I know he isn’t a decent man but he wouldn’t want to spoil this hook up.”
John sighed, “I didn’t mean take advantage in that way, but I’m glad you get the jist of what I was say- Sherlock are you listening?”
Sherlock was in fact not listening, opting out to make kissy faces at an oblivious Lestrade, who was on his sixth or maybe seventh pint. Sherlock lost count, too busy making shameless remarks about Lestrade’s physique.
John closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.“Alright, you. Time to sober up.” Before John finished his sentence, Sherlock was off finishing off his third pint and picking up his fourth while whispering into Lestrade’s ear. John came over right as Lestrade started to choke on his drink.
Sherlock popped up and announced, “Going to the loo,” walking off before John could protest.
John watched as a wobbly Sherlock made his way toward the back of the bar. Once he saw that his friend made his way into the restroom he turned to Lestrade and asked what Sherlock had said.
Lestrade finished off his beer before saying, “He was telling me about Mycroft.”
Donovan and Sally took this as their cue to leave the two men in peace and went to the other side of the bar to a booth.
“Oh, alright.” John drank the rest of his beer in an awkward silence. Lestrade finally spoke saying, “I don’t understand. He’s a Holmes… How could I fall for a Holmes?”
John’s heart stopped. “Um. Sherlock then? Is that why he’s been flirting with you all night?”
John raised two fingers at the bartender requesting more beer. “Sherlock? Oh god, no. Mycroft.” Lestrade sighed. “I’ve been pining after him since he came to pick up Sherlock from lock up all those years ago.”
Lestrade picked up the beer almost as soon as the bartender set it down, he was such a miserable sight. John wondered how he looked. Wait, what?
“Holmes’, I swear. They’ll be the end of us.” Lestrade said, raising his beer in John’s direction, spilling a bit. Lestrade had been drinking before they arrived, no wonder he’s hit this point so soon.
John raised his glass as well and drank before realizing Sherlock wasn’t back. “I’m going to check up on Sherlock.” He left a lonely Lestrade drinking his troubles away in order to find his -other- drunken friend.
John found Sherlock opening and closing one of the stalls in the restroom.
“Sherlock, time to go.”
“But John come look at this! Look at how tiny these stalls are!” He grabbed John and pushed him up against it. “I wonder,” he whispered into John’s ear, “if two people can fit in here.”
John swallowed, “Well, maybe that should be your new experiment.” John watched Sherlock, waiting for him to make a move. John licked his lips in anticipation.
“Hmm.” Sherlock breathed on John’s neck, “I should probably go get Lestrade to help me out then.”
Sherlock left John confused and aroused in the restroom.
Suggestive words about Lestrade and me gets John jealous and makes him to want to take me back to the flat.
11:17 pm
After washing his face and settling down, John left the restroom to look for his flatmate to convince him to go home. He found Sherlock deducing Sally and Anderson - again.
He was throwing his arms about, explaining how they might last in the long run. He kept going on about how tedious they were for thinking it was love but it was the simple fact that they were the only two people who could deal with each other’s attitudes. Sherlock then took Anderson’s beer and finished it off.
John came just as Anderson stood up to throw a punch.
“Sherlock, time to go. I’ve had enough of this.” John said dragging Sherlock away from Sally and Anderson’s booth.
“But John! John! Johnjohnjohnjohn! Listen… shhh!” He cupped John’s face. Sherlock could feel John’s cheeks flushing underneath his fingertips.
“This is one of my favorite songs,” Sherlock slurred, closing his eyes and swaying to the beat of the music.
"Did you know I had twelve years of ballet lessons, John? I'm still very flexible.” Sherlock whispered suggestively.
It takes many glasses of beer to lower my inhibition.
Note: Ask John about quantity taken in.
John stared at very carefree Sherlock dancing to One Night. He looked towards Greg, hoping he was enjoying the sight as much as he was, but found him chatting on his mobile.
“I was very obsessed with Elvis when I was younger, when I was in love with the idea of falling in love.” Sherlock said, still swaying to the music. “Have you seen pictures of him when he was in the army?” He looked into John’s eyes, “I love a man in uniform.”
He grabbed John. “Come, dance.”
John looked towards Greg again in search for help, but he was still on his mobile, leaving the pub.
“Sherlock, please.” John said, turning red from embarrassment. He was dancing, slow dancing, with Sherlock in the middle of a pub.
“Please this. Please that. How about we please each other.” Sherlock paused, “That came out a little more sexual than anticipated, but like you said earlier, you got the jist of it.” He said with a wink.
“Sherlock-” John was silenced by Sherlock’s lips on his own.
It was a sloppy, wet, drunken kiss, but it was a kiss from Sherlock. And that made it the best first kiss he’s ever had. Which made it hard for him to pull away.
“Okay. Yeah. Time to get you home.” Sherlock was hurt and confused with John’s words. John turned to walk away when Sherlock called to him to wait. John could hear from his tone that Sherlock was hurt.
“But. But, I thought you wanted this. I thought you wanted me.” Sherlock wasn’t aware of how emotional alcohol can make him. He grew red from embarrassment. “Can we just-”
This time, Sherlock was silenced by John’s lips.
“You know, for a genius, you really are a stupid git.” John said after he broke the kiss, looking up into Sherlock’s eyes.
Sherlock went in for another kiss but stopped when John pulled away. He was even more confused now than ever. “But you just-”
“Yes Sherlock I know what I did. But I also want you, well us, to be sober so we can have a proper snog.” Sherlock’s smile didn’t last before oh god.
He got to the stall before he could make a mess in the middle of the pub.
John came into the restroom to check on his flatmate. He dropped a handful of mints in Sherlock’s coat pocket before leaving, calling back, “I’ll go get us a cab.”
12:50 am
Sherlock had sobered up a little by the time they reached the flat. But not enough so that John still had to carry most of his weight up the stairs to Sherlock’s room.
John helped Sherlock undress and get into some worn pajama pants and a shirt before laying him in bed. After he turned off the side lamp he turned to leave but was stopped by Sherlock grabbing onto his wrist, “Wait, John.”
John turned to face his flatmate, who already had his eyes closed. “Come and sleep with me. Please?”
John stood there, thinking a moment before he said, “Fine. But no funny business.” Sherlock smiled as his friend undressed and got into bed with him.
Sherlock sighed as John tangled his feet with his own and felt John’s arms wrap around his waist. “Hm”
“What? Not good?” John said untangling from Sherlock. “Sorry it’s just, I’m a cuddler. We don’t have to if you don’t want.” Sherlock turned and laid his head on John’s chest.
“No it’s fine.” He yawned, “I love it… I love you.” John looked down at Sherlock, already snoring. “I love you too.”
8:36 am
Sherlock woke to a pounding headache. The light coming in from outside hurt. The sound of his pulse hurt. Everything hurt. He grabbed and pulled the blankets over his head.
“Excuse you!”
Sherlock flew off the bed and hit the floor with a thump when he heard the unexpected voice in his bed.
John immediately started chuckling. The familiar laughter brought back memories of the night before. He got up from the floor, covering himself with the blanket. John was already up and pulling one of Sherlock’s shirts from a drawer.
“Too hungover to go upstairs to get one of mine. Hope you don’t mind.”
Sherlock’s eyes followed John as he moved. “John did we-”
“Nope. I made sure you knew that I wanted us to both be sober for that.” John said, reassuring Sherlock.
“Oh.” He said before he fully processed what he had said, “Oh.”
But before Sherlock could say anything, John was out the door.
8:59 am
Sherlock took more than usual getting ready. He kept replaying last nights events.
How can I trust these memories, I was drunk. Maybe my mind is showing me what I wanted to happen? Sherlock thought, but, he did say those things this morning.
He came out into the kitchen to find John preparing two cups of tea. He looked as calm as he usually does.
Maybe I did make up last night’s events.
“Come. Sit.” John said, gesturing Sherlock to the table.
Sherlock sat, still worried what John was going to say.
What if I did do those things and he’s going to move out. That’s why he’s so calm. He’s getting rid of me.
John noticed Sherlock over thinking so he reached out to hold his hand. “No Sherlock, I’m not leaving. I’m not angry. I just want to talk about last night, if you want.”
Sherlock relaxed with John’s words.
“I just want to know one thing.” He paused, letting go of Sherlock’s hand, “Was I, an experiment of some sort?” His hands settled on his cuppa.
“It started off that way,” he confessed. “But further into the night, the lower my inhibition was, the more I was pulled to you.” John tensed. Seeing this Sherlock continued, “I didn’t mean it like that. I love you John. I just couldn’t risk losing our friendship. But getting drunk through that out the window, that’s why I finally made my move.”
John stared at the mug in front of him. He then got up from the table-
Oh god no please, John. Don’t go.
-and came around behind Sherlock and wrapped his arms around him.
Sherlock leaned into John’s embrace.
“That’s all I wanted to know.” He said, kissing his, boyfriend? Lover? They’ll figure that out later.