"Am I a woman?"
"Yes." Sherlock giggled uncharacteristically, the alcohol slurring his voice.
"Am I pretty?" John hiccupped.
Sherlock's mind screamed YES but all he could manage was "Wha…?"
John leaned forward unsteadily and placed a warm hand on Sherlock's knee. "Am I a pretty lady?" he inquired again.
"Oh yes, John Watson," Sherlock replied unconsciously. "You are most definitely pretty."
John looked only slightly confused, his intoxication keeping his facial muscles slack. "I'm John Watson?"
"Yes." Sherlock's voice had lowered, leaning towards his best friend. "You are John Watson. And I am Sherlock Holmes." The Consulting Detective reached up and removed the yellow Post-It note identifying his blogger as Madonna (whoever that was) from the man's forehead, his long fingers brushing John's skin. The former army doctor shivered, feeling heat flush through him.
"No shit, Sherlock," he muttered, trying to hide his discomfort.
"John..." Sherlock shifted in his seat, the edge of nervousness in his voice escaping John's dimmed attention. "I need to tell you... something."
"Go on then," John pressed, leaning forward even further, his lips slightly parted.
"I..." Sherlock stammered, eyes darting around and finally landing on John's lips. "Screw it," he muttered under his breath, surging forward. He pushed John back into his flatmate's chair, crushing his mouth to his friend's. To his complete surprise, he felt John open his mouth to deepen the kiss. Sherlock pulled back suddenly.
"You love me back?" he asked, still stunned.
"You love me?" John responded with his own question, a little slow.
Sherlock smirked, kissing John again. "Obviously."