"I have some bad news..." Sherlock started in the middle of dinner. John and Mrs Hudson looked at him confused whilst Rosie continued eating.

"Mycroft has asked me to take a case in America...and I've accepted." He continued, placing his knife and fork on his plate and looking down. As he said this, Rosie looked up from her food to Sherlock and then to John.

"Daddy, what's 'merica?" She asked.

"America is a continent far away, you have to go on a plane to get there." John answered, clearing his throat.

"Oh." Rosie got out of her chair and climbed onto Sherlock's lap before John could stop her.

"I don't want you to go, Uncle Sherly. You'll be too far away.

"I'm sorry, little Watson, but Uncle Sherly has to help Mikey out for a bit. But I promise to call you every day before you go to sleep. Okay?" He asked.

"Pinkie promise?" She asked, holding out her pinkie.

"Pinkie promise." He replied, linking his pinkie with hers. She then wrapped her arms around him and gave him a big hug. John cleared his throat from the other side of the table.

"Mrs Hudson. Would you mind taking Rosie for a bit so I can speak to Sherlock, please?"

"Of course John." She answered, getting up and lifting Rosie off of Sherlock. "Come on poppet. Let's go to the park for a bit." As Mrs. Hudson left, Sherlock got up and took the plates to the kitchen, with John following behind him. They worked in silence for a minute or two before John finally broke the silence.

"Why didn't you tell me straight away?"

"I didn't know how you'd react. Especially after last night." He said, turning red.

"About last night we really need to talk about it."

"Can we do that when I get back?"

"When will that be?"

"In 5 years."

"I am not waiting five years to talk about it!'

"There's nothing to talk about, John." Sherlock sighed, moving into the main part of the flat.

"Nothing to talk about? We slept together Sherlock!" John yelled, following Sherlock, then collapsing into his chair.

"I am aware of that, but we were both drunk John."

"Not too drunk to not remember or regret it, Sherlock. Is that the reason you were gone this morning? Because you thought it was a drunk mistake?"

"No. I'm...not one for cuddling."

"I disagree. You were quite the cuddler last night."

"Yes when I was drunk. Drink fogs up the mind, makes you do things you would never normally do." Sherlock snapped, pacing through the flat.

"Or it gives you courage to do something you've been wanting to do for ages but never got the nerve up." John snapped back as Sherlock fell into his armchair in defeat. He went silent for a minute and then closed his eyes.

"Do you remember how the night started?"

"As in us deciding to go out or us...you know...making out?"

"The...making out, as you put it. How did it start?"

"Well, I had suggested we play 20 questions..."

"20 questions, really? That always leads to some sort of...canoodling."

"Yes well...I was quite intoxicated when I mentioned it." John chuckled. "Anyway, why do you want to know? Have you forgotten?"

"No...I just don't quite remember all of it." Sherlock answered, finding a piece on the ceiling very interesting.

"Right. Well, what do you remember?"

"I remember drinking..."

"Yes, there was quite a lot of drinking." Sherlock shot John a glare before continuing.

"And I remember us...kissing."

"Do you want me to fill in the gaps?"

"Please but leave out the details. I'm not sure how long Mrs Hudson will wait before she stops eavesdropping." Sherlock chuckled. A yell and a thud sounded from the door and footsteps thudded down the stairs. John burst out laughing.

"How on earth did you know she was there?"

"Simple. When she left there were no distinct sounds of footsteps, meaning no one had come up those stairs or gone down them inn a long time." After a long pause and a knowing look from John, Sherlock sighed. "Fine. It was actually meant to be a joke. I had no idea she was there." This seemed to make John laugh even harder. After a few seconds, Sherlock joined in as well, both of their laughter filling the flat. Once the laughter had died down, they went into a comfortable silence.

"So...last night?"

"Yes, last night." John exhaled slowly. "You know what, I think we need a drink for this conversation."

"Isn't t how we got ourselves in this mess in the first place?"

"Just a bit of liquid courage. Don't worry, I'm not trying to get you drunk." John teased, disappearing into the kitchen for a split second, before returning with two tumbler glasses and a bottle of whisky.

"Fine. One drink." Sherlock agreed begrudgingly, taking the glass John offered him. After John had filled both glasses, he sat back down and took a long sip.

"So, what exactly do you want to know?" He asked.

"What led to us...making out?"

"Right, so after I suggested playing 20 questions, you decided we'd play it with drinks." Sherlock groaned in embarrassment.

"Oh, I didn't, did I?"

"I'm afraid you did." John answered, supressing a laugh.

"I see why we need the drink." The detective said , taking a big gulp.

"Anyway, the questions started off quite innocent... until the thirteenth one." John said, unusually silent.

"What is it? What happened?" Sherlock queried.

"Nothing. I've...uh...I've forgotten what the question was."

"No you haven't. Why don't you want me to know? Just tell me, I can handle it"

"Fine. You asked me if I actually loved Mary or not."

Sherlock went quiet, his eyes closed as if he had gone to his mind palace.

"And, what did you say?" He asked, slowly opening his eyes.

John mumbled something incoherently, making his whole face turn red.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said...not as much as I love you..."

"Oh..."