A/N: Ok, so I really have no excuse for my absence on Fanfiction, I've been kind of busy, and I've been writing this! Let me explain how I got this idea: a friend texted me and said
I found these Jell-O shot thingies that may or may not be alcoholic.
SH
And then this amazingness was born! :D So really i owe this to my friend because otherwise it wouldnt have happened.
Sorry about all the confusingness, I kinda figured it was appropriate for drunk Sherlock and John.
Disclaimer: I dont own BBC Sherlock. I dont even know if I own this idea. But the writing is mine.
Never Give A Sociopath Jell-O
John had just stepped out of the bar, he didn't know why, but he had ended up at the end of the street, gazing at the cars whizzing by. His brain swirled, and he knew he was bloody drunk, but he didn't care. Why don't you just live a little? He thought. You did that when you went to Afghanistan. He giggled, and two women passing him looked at him strangely. He hiccupped, and waved. "Hi."
The girls laughed then walked away. John smiled and was content to just stand there.
Suddenly, his phone rang, and it took him a while to remember why his pocket was buzzing. He fished it out of his pocket and answered without looking at caller ID. "What is it?" He slurred.
"Where did you go, John?" Sherlock drawled, his voice much too loud against the pounding music of the bar. "I found...these Jell-O shot thingies... except they don't have...alcohol."
"Are you sure about that?" John asked, stumbling back in the direction of the bar.
There was a rustling on the other end, and he heard a feminine voice carry into his ear. "There are about five shots of vodka in there, love." Sherlock mumbled something John couldn't hear, then shouted. "There's like...a lot of this drink thingy in it."
"That's what she said!" John shouted into the phone, laughing. "Try not to eat all of them, I'm coming."
Sherlock licked his lips. "IdunnoJohn, these things are preeeeety seductive."
The woman's voice laughed, and the line cut off. John wobbled back to the bar as fast as he could, trying to push the door open, but failing. Then someone pushed it open from the other side and patted John on the back. "You got it, mate!" The man shouted.
"Ta!" John shouted above the loud music that was pumping through the speakers, wandering back over to the table. He saw Sherlock sitting with...oh my God that's one sexy lady... John thought. Both their beakers were filled to the brim, and Sherlock was gazing around like he had no idea where he was.
John slid back into his chair, and Sherlock looked up, his eyes wide. "John."
The woman looked at him. "Hey, you must be John."
John slapped the table. "Guilty as charged."
He must have been talking louder than he thought, because the woman smiled. "You must be more drunk than your buddy over here." She ran her finger down Sherlock's arm. "And that's saying something."
"I'm getting married!" John shouted. "Where're the Jell-O vodkas?"
Sherlock grabbed the woman's hand as if he had just woken up form a dream. "Rachel, could you order more thingies?"
"I was just about to." Rachel smiled. When she stood up, John whistled. She was wearing maybe the shortest tightest dress he had ever seen, her long skinny legs shining in the dim light of the bar. She wore black...oh damn what were they called...Mary wanted them for her birthday...
"Where did you get your shoes?" John asked.
Rachel laughed. "I'll take you shopping later!" Then she shimmied over to the bar counter.
John turned to Sherlock, who was grinning like an idiot. "How did you manage that?"
Sherlock pointed at his face, and then gestured to his body. "Have you seen this?"
John laughed. "You, best man, are drunk."
"I know, right?! It's great! Why have we never done this before?!"
"Because you have an international reputation!" John exclaimed.
"If I did..." Sherlock said, raising his beaker. "…which I don't think I had in the first place… I don't have one anymore!"
John clinked his beaker with Sherlock's. "To Mary: who'd probably kill us both if she knew what we were doing."
Sherlock chuckled and sloppily took a long draw from his beaker, emptying it completely. John followed suit.
They sat in silence for a moment, watching the people dance along to the pounding music. Suddenly, Sherlock exclaimed. "Molly!"
"What about her?" John slurred.
"She'd kill us too."
John giggled. "She'd only kill you. She'd just tell me..." John raised his voice in a mock recognition of Molly's voice. " 'You should know better, John.' And that would be that!"
They both exploded into laughter, and John could feel all his worries and doubts slipping away. Everything about the bridesmaid's dresses and the tables and who would sit where went up in smoke, and for once John could relax.
At this point, a tall skinny woman walked over to the table, balancing a tray of wobbly green Jell-O. "You wouldn't believe who I saw at the bar."
She has the shortest tightest dress I've ever seen. John thought. I wonder why Mary doesn't wear things like that. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"
"It doesn't matter, she has Jell-O thingies." Sherlock tapped his fingers on the table as the woman glided into the chair next to him. She held the tray for just a moment longer, watching John squint at her.
"Rachel." She laughed. "We met a few minutes ago. You really are wasted, aren't ya love?" But John had stopped listening. We met a few minutes ago? Alarm bells started going off in his head, and before Sherlock could grab another Jell-O shot, John grabbed the tray from...Rachel.
"Easy there, tiger." Rachel placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, who looked like he was about to attack John for the Jell-O. She turned to John. "Why'd you do that?"
John gave the tray to a passing server, then looked back at Sherlock. "Sherlock, I think we need to get you home."
Sherlock blinked a few times. "What? John..." Sherlock rubbed his eyes, working his jaw as if suddenly he was extremely tired. "It's only..." He looked at his watch. "Why are all the thingies spinning?"
"Would you stop saying thingies and use smart words like you normally do?!" John exclaimed, pinching his nose bridge. All of the sudden he was feeling dizzy...
"Look at you two. Having a little domestic now, are we?"
John's vision suddenly went fuzzy and his brain wouldn't function. Mary wedding Jell-O bananas beer guns vodka crime-solving...? Rachel alcohol murders beer beakers...
The beakers.
John slammed his hand on the table header than he'd expected to. His body wasn't working properly, and his movements were sloppy and jerky. "What..."
He saw Sherlock's head hit the table, but the actual THUNK was delayed in his brain. Everything was disjointed, like a broken record on a record player. The noise of the bar assaulted his ears, but over the din he managed to hear Rachel speak. "I'll take you shopping later."
The something in his head slipped and everything fell to
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••••••••••••••••••••
John woke up to a pounding head and a dry throat. He raised his head off the table and groaned, blinking as he tried to clear his vision. His mind was so foggy that he couldn't even remember where he was for a moment. He looked around and saw that he was in the same bar he had been in before he'd blacked out... I think. He looked across the table where he thought Sherlock had been sitting and found an empty chair staring back at him. Damn it... "Sherlock." John tried to stand, but his legs felt weird when he bent his knees and he stumbled. He grabbed the table for support, suddenly wishing he had his cane. He managed to make it to the open dance floor without falling, and it was there that he spotted Sherlock shouting at another man about knowing someone. John decided to intervene before Sherlock got punched.
He made his way over to Sherlock and grabbed him under the armpits. "Alright, that's enough dancing, Sherlock."
Sherlock threw a wild punch, but John's arm kept him from really damaging anyone. After that he allowed John to half drag him out of the bar, only to say, "Where to next?"
Suddenly, the world was a twister of swirling lights; blue and black and bright white lights blinded him, and he nearly collapsed. Sherlock grabbed him by the arm and managed to hold him up. A few seconds went by, and the vertigo stopped. "Sherlock." John rasped, his throat dry and hoarse. "Something isn't right."
"Yeah, we haven't even made it half way through the list!" Sherlock smiled haphazardly.
John shook his head. "Alright...what's next?"
Sherlock looked down the street. "Uuuuhhhh...Magnolia..." He began to walk down the street.
"Was that the one with the...speckled lady?" John asked, trudging along after him.
"Haven't the faintest." Sherlock replied.
"Hey, there you are! I've been looking for you boys!" A tall skinny woman came up from behind them, slinging an arm over each of their shoulder. John stumbled at the sudden weight change, and the woman grabbed his arm to help him.
John looked at her, but his vision was swirling again and he couldn't make out her face. "'Ello? Who is that, Sherlock?"
The woman laughed, and Sherlock looked at her strangely. "Sorry, stags only tonight!" He tried to keep his tone light, but John could tell he was pissed.
"I'm getting married!" John shouted.
"I know!" The woman laughed. "I'm taking you shoe shopping, remember?"
Not a thing. John thought. "Where did you get those shoes? Sherlock, aren't those the ones Mary wanted?"
Sherlock smacked his lips together tiredly. "I may know how to make...napkins into cranes...but I don't know...what type of SHOE your...wife wants. They all...look the same!"
The woman giggled again. "So, where are we going next?"
John didn't like her. She reminds me of Irene. And that is not a good thing. Before John could tell her that they really would just like to be by themselves, Sherlock interrupted.
"The list..." He produced his phone from his coat pocket but when he turned it on, he couldn't look at it. "Whysitsobright?"
John fumbled to help Sherlock turn the screen off, saying. "Do you remember what the next on was?" If Sherlock's comfortable with her, I guess I'm ok...for now.
Sherlock blinked a few times, as if trying to orientate himself. "Shraw."
"What?"
"Shraw Tavern." Sherlock looked at John.
"How on earth did you remember that?"
"I'm a high functioning...sociopath, John. I remember...everything."
John looked over his shoulder to see a small pub with a large sign over the top that said, "SHRAW TAVERN" in fluorescent lights. He turned back to Sherlock. "You saw the sign, didn't you?"
Sherlock hiccupped. "Yup."
They stumbled across the street, the woman in between them helping them not fall on their faces. John learned that her name was Rachel, that they had met earlier that night, and that she would actually take him shoe shopping if he wanted.
"What the hell." John smiled. "Let's go." Mary will be thrilled that I actually did something productive.
Sherlock drunkenly gestures to the bright fluorescent sign further down the road. "I'll, uh, just be there." He quickly turned and stumbled way before John could object, that, no, they needed to stay together. Rachel smiled and dragged him off in the opposite direction.
"Let's have some fun, shall we?"
••••••••••••••••••••••
Sherlock's body felt as light as a feather, his mind clear are free of all the thoughts that were normally buzzing around in his head. When he finally made it into the tavern after a few minutes of stumbling down the road, his mind came alive as pounding music filled his ears and thrummed through his body. So this is what it feels like to be normal. To go out and have fun. John's been missing this the whole time he's been with me. Or maybe he just does it in secret. He slogged over to the bar and sat in one of the stools.
The bartender gave him a huge smile. "What can I get for you, lad?"
Sherlock might have normally been able to identify the man's accent and all sorts of junk, but at the moment, he didn't even care. "Do you have any Jell-O?"
The bartender laughed and Sherlock found himself joining in.
One of the stools next to him squeaked. "Sherlock?" A voice shouted over the music.
Sherlock licked his dry lips and turned to the voice, but saw no one there except and empty bar stool. Did that chair just talk? There was a tap on his shoulder, and he sluggishly turned around to see... Adamson? Appleton? Ambledore? ... "Anderson...?"
Anderson's blue eyes searched Sherlock's face. "What in God's name are you doing here?"
"Do NOT bring god into this, Anderson." Sherlock said.
The bartender chuckled and turned away, and Anderson frowned. "What are you doing?"
"Stag night!"
Anderson raised an eyebrow. "I think we need to get you home. Where's John?"
"Shoe shopping with Rachel. What do you mean, home? We're not even half way done with the list yet!"
Anderson obviously thought Sherlock was babbling, because he grabbed Sherlock's arm and pulled him out of his seat. "Ok..." He dragged Sherlock through the bat and finally made it out into the clear night. "Let's go find John. Taxi!" Anderson waved at a passing cab, and it pulled up to the curb. He pulled out his mobile and held it to his ear, helping Sherlock towards the cab.
"Hello?" Rachel's voice came through the mobile.
"Um, hi. Can I speak to John, if it's not too much trouble?" Sherlock could hear an edge to Anderson's voice as if he were ANNOYED at John. Sherlock got into the taxi and Anderson followed, and Anderson pulled the door closed. There hadn't been a response from the other line yet. "Hello?"
There was a thump and a groan, and then a cracking noise. Anderson pulled the mobile away from his ear then held it back again, wincing.
"John?" Sherlock shouted, grabbing the phone away from Anderson and shouting John's name repeatedly into it.
"Sher-lock?" John's voice cracked, and he coughed.
"What's going on?" Anderson asked, grabbing the phone back from Sherlock, who proceeded to punch him in the face and shout, "HE'S MY BLOGGER, FOR GOODNESS SAKE!"
Anderson groaned and held a hand to his face, leaning back against the seat.
The cabbie turned around and gave the duo a quizzical look. "Wha-"
"Shut up!" Sherlock shouted, taking a deep breath and holding the phone to his ear again.
"Let's just say..." John's voice cracked again. "Some women like to shove pointy things in delicate places..."
Sherlock immediately knew what he meant. "JOHN IS YOUR PENIS OK?!"
"If you're going to be this obnoxious I'm going to have to ask you to get out." The cabbie said. He still hadn't pulled away from the curb.
Anderson was just recovering from Sherlock's assault, and he said, "Sorry. Sherlock, calm down and give me my pho...Oh."
Sherlock was out of the taxi, running down the sidewalk in a haphazard line. "John!" He shouted, stumbling past the bar and back the way they had originally come. "Jooooooohhhhhhnnnnnnnn!"
He heard a grunt come from an alley a little ways down front the bar. Sherlock plodded down the dark and dank alley, Anderson hit on his tail. "Damn it, Sherlock, where do you think you're going?"
"John." Sherlock said, stubbing his toe. He stopped and looked at Anderson. "You made me stub my toe."
A/N: For any of you who've seen the Hunger Games, imagine Haymitch when Peeta and Katniss first meet him on the train. "You made me spill my drink." That's what Sherlock's saying.
Anderson stared at Sherlock, rubbing his jaw. "Ummmm...Sherlock?
Sherlock suddenly became very angry. He took a step towards Anderson. He didn't expect the ground to squish underneath him, so when it did he let out a surprised, "WHAHA!"
"Damn you, Sherlock." John seethed. "Can't you look where you're bloody going?"
"How was I supposed to know you were down there? I can't see a damn thing! Maybe you shouldn't be lying down there like an idiot!"
"Oh, I won't be for long." John's voice quivered with murderous anger, and Anderson stepped in.
"Let's all just calm down now..."
Sherlock whirled on him. "Calm? You want me to be CALM?"
Anderson placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, but Sherlock hit his hand away and punched him in the face again. Anderson so this balance and fell to the ground, something making a sharp cracking noise. Anderson didn't make another sound.
A/N: no Anderson's were harmed in the making of this fic.
Sherlock wiped his hands on his suit pants. "See? Calm." He held his hand out for John, even though he had no idea where John actually was anymore. "John, take my hand."
"Sherlock," John wheezed. "I don't think I can stand up."
"Nonsense. You're a soldier. Soldiers always get up." Sherlock got down on his hands and knees, trying to find John. After a few seconds of searching, Sherlock asked. "Where's your dick?"
"What?" Was John's response.
"Where's your penis, I can't find it!" Just then, Sherlock felt something hard poke right into his eye. "Ugh!" He stumbled back, falling on his butt. His legs went flying upwards, and he felt his foot connect with something solid.
"God, Sherlock!" John exclaimed, sucking in a breath.
"DOESN'T EXIST, JOHN!" Sherlock shouted, holding a hand over his injured eye.
John sighed, rubbing his throbbing nose in the dark. "Where are you, Sherlock?" Finally, John's hand met Sherlock's and they both struggled to their feet. "Bloody hell, that hurts."
Sherlock almost tripped over Anderson. "Women are bitches."
John laughed painfully.
Anderson let out a moan, and his body shifted. Sherlock looked at John. "Run."
"Wha-"
"Run!" Sherlock shouted as he grabbed John's hand and pulled him out of the alley just as Anderson was coming to his senses.
Anderson saw Sherlock's coat turn the corner, and he shouted, "SHERLOCK!" in fury, but his voice was lost to the wind.
A/N: I know I left a lot unexplained, but being drunk leaves blank spaces so I thought it was appropriate. Thanks for reading and PLEASE REVIEW!