Note: first story for me, would love to have some positive criticism but be gentle, please. :)

EDIT: The spelling with help from jack63kids (I appreciate your help, so thank you again!). I'm sorry if bothered anyone, I really didn't mean to. I promise it'll get better.

EDIT 2: Okay, I wanted to explain something for a while: I can understand why people are not reading anymore because of chapter 1: I'm not really proud of this chapter. I want to rewrite it soon, so I wanted to ask you, beloved readers, for forgiving me if you don't/didn't like this chapter. It would be great if you guys just read further, I think after that, you can decide if you don't like the story. The chapters are getting longer, I promise.

Enjoy!

"They are recruiting again for the Special Ops." Andy said when the laughter came to an end. John and his friends from the army were in the pub; remembering old stories, laughing with or at each other and drinking beer. Lots of beer.

"I didn't know that. Since when?" John asked curiously, he missed the army. It was horrible, but he missed it. But, even if he wanted to go, he felt like he couldn't. Sherlock needed him as a friend/assistant/pet. He didn't know what he was. "They started a couple of weeks ago. They said they're recruiting till the first day of January."
God, John wanted to go so bad. But he wsa getting older and people needed him here, in London. Damn it John. Now you are just making excuses for yourself. Jack, Andy, Ronald, Chris and Peter wanted another beer. "Johnny boy! Don't be sad! You are here with us! Drink another beer!" 'Another' became six] beers. All he could do, or anyone at the bar, was laugh, make jokes and drinking drink beer.

After a while John felt dizzy, and he decided he should go back to 221B. It's a 5 minute walk, but he should take a cab. When he put his arm up in the air and shouted "Taxi!", he could feel the world spinning and almost fell. A cab stopped, and the cab driver helped him in. John could manage to say '221B Baker Street please.' He felt a turn and he felt a little sick."Oi! We're here mate." John gave him a 20 pound note and walked, well you couldn't really call it walking, towards his home. He grabbed his keys from his pockets and tried to unlock the door . After 10 minutes, he managed to open the door. When John had shut it, he felt drowsy and…

passed out.

Sherlock was in the middle of an experiment when Mrs. Hudson came in. "Sherlock, John needs help. I can't drag him on my own you know, I've got my bloody hip."

Sherlock sighed and walked downstairs. He saw John lying at the bottom of the stairs, his head on the first step and his keys in his hands. Clearly passed out. John, I thought you were better than this. Sherlock dragged him upstairs with John's collar in his hand. "I'm going to sleep, dear. Good luck." And Mrs. Hudson went to her own room. Sherlock grumbled, he didn't like this. He was in the throws of a vital experiment for goodness sake!

John opened his eyes. "Hello!" He smiled. Sherlock grumbled. They were already in John's bedroom and Sherlock threw John on the bed. "God, you're so gorgeous." John blurted out , but he didn't seem to notice he said that. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. He decided he'd ignore it. When Sherlock pulled his jacket out, John grabbed him by his jaw. "You. Are. So. Beautiful." John said, with every word a kiss.

So this is what those people are talking about. Not bad, not bad at all. Although John smells of alcohol, but I can live with that. Sherlock let him kiss him. John pulled Sherlock on the bed, and continued kissing. Sherlock closed his eyes and… it stopped? He looks looked at John. Asleep. Really, John? He closed his eyes again. But Sherlock didn't go anywhere. He liked this.

John could hear the birds sing. It hurt so bad. He opened his eyes and saw… Sherlock? Bloody hell! He quickly checked to see if his jeans were still on. He confirmed that they were, and sighed in relieve. "Were you afraid we did something… other than kissing?" John flinched. He didn't know Sherlock was awake. Then again, Sherlock was a very light sleeper. "Kissing? I didn't kiss you." John felt confused. Sherlock turned around and he gave John a do-you-believe-that-yourself-look. John thought back: he remembered coming home, but then… nothing. Something must've happened.

Without saying anything, John left his bed and went to the bathroom to take a shower. His headache was bad, very bad, but John couldn't give attention to that. He had just woken, in his bed, with Sherlock. And they had kissed. John always thought he would remember something like that. He wanted to know what had happened. But Sherlock was not really the 'sitting down and talk about everything even if it's personal'-type. He turned the shower off, dried himself with a towel and saw that he had forgotten his underwear. Bloody hell! He can't just come out of the bathroom with only a towel around his bum, after what had happened.

Sherlock is probably busy with an experiment, or is busy reading a file. John reassured himself. He sighed and opened the door. He picked up his clothes and went into his bedroom. He saw the man in his bed, examining John. "Goddamnit Sherlock! Get out! Get out of my bedroom!" Sherlock went to the living room, while John was calming himself down.

Sherlock was interested in John. He liked the kissing and he liked being in bed and cuddling with John. He wanted more. Sherlock was confused. He never felt something like this before. It is almost like he cared… Yes. Yes, he cared about John. And John cared about him too. He was his friend. Perhaps more?

Sherlock needed something. Cocaine? No, John would go crazy about that. Nicotine patches. Yes. He grabbed 3 nicotine patches and placed them on his arm. His eyes closed, and he began thinking. Well, he was about to think when John came in the room, yelling.

"What is wrong with you? Don't you know anything about limits?"

"John, I have to confess something."