This is my first fanfiction so I apologise if it's rubbish but it's my first attempt so if you give lots of feedback I will know how to improve and please all of you lovely readers :)

This story is completely my own, if someone has written something else like it I had no idea as far as I'm aware this is all completely original. So I hope you enjoy it :) Its set during the Hounds of Baskerville after Sherlock has a mental breakdown in the pub. It's got a bit of language in it and there is a dark bit and some Johnlock so it's an M just to be safe :) enjoy!

Rock bottom

Sherlock stared ferociously into John's deep hazel eyes. He knew that his rude outburst has hurt John and the look of pain on his face was too much to bear.

"Not good?" Sherlock whispered.

"Yeah, a bit not good." John muttered dropping eye contact.

The pair sat in silence waiting for someone to break the tension, John stared into the bottom of his whiskey glass wondering why it looked so fascinating all of a sudden, when Sherlock stood abruptly making John jump and spill the last remainders of alcohol on his new jumper.

"Shit!" John exclaimed jumping up in alarm. Sherlock stared at him quizzically, a few other pub guests jeered in amusement whilst others looked in annoyance at the man's foul language.

John stared down at his ruined jumper before letting out a tired, defeated sigh.

"I'm going for a walk" he mumbled. He shoved Sherlock out of the way and barged past two men savagely snogging each other in the door way.

"Ugghhh, get a room" John grumbled. What was that in his voice Sherlock detected? Definitely annoyance, embarrassment and was that a hint of jealousy?

Sherlock sat back down and stared intently at the two men and began to wonder. He began to wonder what John's lips tasted like, how soft his skin was, what would make him moan. Sherlock looked away in alarm and stared at his trousers, suddenly they had become a little bit too tight for his liking.

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John kicked angrily at some daisies out on the hills. Sherlock had no right to speak to him in that manner; he knew full well that this case was a hard one for the consulting detective. Sherlock had always been able to trust his instincts and deduce everything but this one was different. John knew from the moment they had arrived in Dartmoor, there was something off about this case.

The wind ripped at Johns clothes and nipped his cheeks; He pulled his coat round him tightly and looked down at the crumpled mess of daisies at his feet.

"Oh, sorry" He said remorsefully. His eyebrows furrowed and then he let out a strangled chuckle from behind his coat.

"Dear God, I'm apologising to flowers now!"

Something was still troubling John, it was niggling at the back of his brain and had been ever since he left the pub. The way Sherlock's eyes were after he told him that what he said wasn't good. There was sorrow, guilt, anger, confusion and something else, if John didn't know him any better he would have said it was longing.

John turned round and began to trudge back towards the pub, bracing himself of the confrontation that was certain to occur.

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John paced outside of Sherlock's hotel room. After insisting to the two pushy hotel owners that he and Sherlock weren't actually together, they had finally caved and gave them both separate rooms.

When John told Sherlock that they were going to be in separate hotel rooms Sherlock looked surprised and slightly offended.

"Well who am I supposed to talk to if you are in your own room?" he whined. "I've left my skull at home and having a conversation with the wall isn't the same."

"Why do you care if anyone is listening anyway?" I snapped. "When I do listen and try to contribute you tell me to shut up, but if I don't say anything and let you get on with it you complain that I've been ignorant and stupid. I just need a break from your bloody experiments!"

Sherlock took that as the queue to leave and hadn't visited John's room ever since they got there.

John took a deep breath in and told himself profusely that he wouldn't argue with that man. No matter how infuriating he got. No matter how many insults he throws at him. No matter how much he wanted to grab him and stare into those bright, deep, crystal grey eyes and tell him he was wrong.

John gathered up his courage and opened the door a crack.

"Sherlock, are you ok?" He asked cautiously. When there was no reply John hesitantly opened the door a little wider to see a tall figure sprawled out on the sofa.

John fully opened the door allowing light to flood into the room. Sherlock was lying on the sofa in his boxers alone, sweat dripping from his hair and leaving a healthy sheen over his torso.

John couldn't stop himself from inhaling sharply. He is so fit! How have I never noticed before? Dear God those abs, bloody hell I could quite happily stand here forever! John snapped out of his thoughts when Sherlock curled up into the foetus position and began to sob.

"Sherlock, Sherlock tell me what's wrong." John whispered soothingly as he dashed to Sherlock's side.

"Srrryyy Jhnnn, diddnntt fink, help?" Sherlock spluttered through sobs.

"What?" John's forehead creased in confusion. "Ouch!" John gasped as he put his knee down on something pointy. "What was that?" John sat back against the sofa and picked up the pointy object that had stabbed him in the knee; he brought it into the light to get a better look at it. His face dropped when he saw the syringe in his hand.

"Oh God Sherlock, please tell me you weren't that stupid."

Sherlock suddenly grabbed john's wrists and hauled him up from the floor and twisted him onto the sofa below him.

"Sherlock what the bloody hell do you think you're doi-"

Sherlock cut John off with a kiss. Their lips crashed together with all of the tension and lust that had been building up ever since they had met. Sherlock tried to pull away but it was John's turn. He had never seen Sherlock on drugs and would make sure that he never saw him like it ever again, but he supposed that whilst Sherlock didn't really know what was happening he might as well make the most of the situation.

John ran his hands hungrily over Sherlock's chest whilst slipping his tongue into the detective's mouth. Sherlock responded immediately winding his tongue around Johns, fusing them together and teasing a moan out of John. He couldn't help but smile then. John felt the smile and pulled away, turning his back on the detective and crossing his arms like a child in a tantrum.

"Well if you find my noises so amusing I'll leave and you can mope here and wallow in your own self pity." John risked a glance back at Sherlock to see an interesting blend of shock, awe, lust and humour cross his face at the same time.

John began making his way towards the door when Sherlock grabbed him and whirled him round forcing him into a rough passionate kiss against the door. When he pulled away John looked down in surprise to see that Sherlock had removed his boxers and that 'his little soldier stood up to attention and awaited orders'. John raised an eyebrow.

"Well I don't know about you John but I have a very strong feeling that the secret to the hound may be lying beneath your boxers right now!" Sherlock teased.

"Y-yes" John stuttered. "But I think you will have to take me through to the bedroom to investigate further Mr Holmes" John met Sherlock's eyes; a mischievous gleam shone through them.

"I will make sure I'm extremely thorough!" Sherlock whispered; doing a frightfully good impression of Mycroft as he peppered kisses down John's neck. John tried to stifle a giggle as Sherlock pulled him into the bedroom, hanging the do not disturb sign on the outside of the door as they swept past.

What did you think, I guess it was alright, but that's up to you to decide! Please give feedback but nothing too mean and if this is received well then I will write more :) Thank you!