John wakes up groggy and confused, the effects of the after-party hangover hit him like a brick wall. He reaches for the glass of water on his nightstand when he notices something obstructing him. That something was an incredibly gorgeous, incredibly brilliant and incredibly naked Sherlock Holmes. John begins to question, what exactly happened last night at the party.

All his movement has caused Sherlock to awaken, and when John looks again, his grey-green eyes are looking straight at him. Beneath Sherlock's usually collected and calm composure, John can sense a hint of confusion, panic, and maybe even something else … could it be fear? John quickly struggles to maintain his composure while trying not to drown in his own embarrassment.

"Good morning, uhh… did you sleep well?"

"John Watson, why am I in your bed? What could I possibly have needed to do in here, and why aren't I wearing any clothes?"

"I was actually about to ask you the same questions. Do you remember anything from the night before?"

"Obviously not, if I did, I wouldn't be asking you these questions" *imbecile*

John shifted uncomfortably in bed, trying to cover up his growing arousal and desperately wishing that his classmate would cover up (or actually maybe not). He could feel his face growing redder and redder as his eyes inadvertently wandered to the one place he tried not to look at. John hurriedly cleared his thoughts, trying to save what was left of his pride. He managed to continue the conversation.

"So, well let's see, what was the last thing you remember from last night?"

"Well, I remember my mother insisting that I go to this party, something about it being a good experience for me. And then when I arrived I scoured the place for someone who was at least slightly tolerable, that was when I found you. However, after awhile you began to get boring and more irritating and then some drunk and frankly repulsive individual came up to me while you were talking and offered me some kind of beverage, he said that it had something special in it to cure any kind of boredom issue I'd ever had. I smelled it checking for toxic substances and when I couldn't detect any I figured why not. The rest of the evening is broken into small fragments of memories."

"Well why don't you tell me them, so we can figure out what happened here."

Sherlock grumbled in exasperation but complied in the end.

"I remember sitting with you laughing. I remember definitely not being bored. I remember…kissing you and dancing with you. Then I remember after the ball dropped at New Years, you saying something about going home."

What John really didn't want to admit was that those "fragmented memories" were starting to become crystal clear in his mind. He was beginning to recall what had happened last night after the party, and decided that he wished he could have forgotten it.

"Just tell me what happened last night John, it is clear that you remember so we might as well get this over with."

"Umm, well let me start from where you left off. After New Year's was over, everyone started to go home. I was so hammered from all the drinking and you were high off of God knows what that we both couldn't drive home. So I called a cab to take me home. But then you told me that you didn't have any money on you, so I just told you to crash at my house. When you agreed we both took the cab to my flat. My parents don't live with me so I told you it wouldn't be a problem if you stayed the night. When we got home, you kind of… well you kind of attacked me and demanded that we both spend the night in my room…"

Then it all came back, crystal clear to Sherlock and the memories poured inside his head.

John walked up the stairs dragging his feet and clinging to the stair railing for support. Sherlock clumsily stumbled behind him, tripping every so often and giggling like a mad man. As soon as John opened the door to his flat, Sherlock felt an uncontrollable desire to kiss him. A part of his brain told him that it was the drugs talking and he shouldn't do anything about it, but another part of him told him that just this once was okay. Throwing caution into the wind, Sherlock pinned John to the wall of his kitchen and started kissing him. His kiss was desperate and needy, more teeth than tongue, but they were both too drunk/high to care. Sherlock pushed his tongue into John's mouth desperate to explore, and soon enough it became of battle of dominance. John was aggressively tonguing back at him, trying to take control of the situation. At some point mid-kiss John pulled back and stared into Sherlock's eyes.

"This is wrong, neither of us are in the right state of mind"

Sherlock leaned in until his mouth was just a fraction of an inch away from John's neck. In a low sultry and incredibly irresistible voice he whispered "I don't care".

From there they took off, sloppily kissing and stumbling their way to the bedroom, Sherlock threw John onto the bed and slowly began to take care of the clothes issue. He ripped off John's shirt, buttons flying everywhere. John quickly caught on and began to unbuckle Sherlock's trousers. Sherlock pulled away looking at the newly uncovered expanse of John's chest. Subconsciously licking his lips, Sherlock bent down to cover John' chest with delicate kisses. The gentle touches aroused John more than ever as a quiet moan escaped his lips. Hearing that, Sherlock took the initiative to remove the rest of John's clothing and his as well. Soon enough, the two teenagers with lying in bed stark naked.

They looked at each other with hungry eyes, neither wanting to make the first move, but neither wanting to wait. As if the final string had broken, the two boys crashed into each other in a flurry of kisses and touching. Hands grazed across throbbing erections, only to elicit fresh moans and harden them even more. Finally, John pinned Sherlock to the bed, despite his small frame, he was a very strong boy. Straddling Sherlock, John's pressed his erection against Sherlock's causing both of them to moan at the glorious stimulation. The heads of both their cocks leaking precum all over their bodies, John grabbed both of their cocks and gave a slow and horribly cruel, gentle tug. Both men gasped at the sensation of their erections rubbing together plus the stimulation of John's hand.

Things began to heat up as John bent down to kiss Sherlock, while still tugging at their erections. His stroked them both up and down, devouring the sight of Sherlock Holmes, boy genius, writhing beneath him in pleasure. He leaned down to kiss and bite Sherlock on the neck, causing him to squirm even more. John ran his tongue across one of Sherlock's deliciously pointed nipples causing him to scream out in pleasure. Then all of a sudden, Sherlock placed both palms on John's chest and pushed him away.

"Problem?"

"Fuck me. Hard. Now."

Without hesitation, John pulled back to allow Sherlock to turn over and get onto all fours. John pulled the lube from his nightstand drawer and poured some onto his fingers. He placed one finger on Sherlock's entrance and felt him shiver with anticipation.