Disclaimer: Do not own.

Title: Waking Up

Chapter 1 - Metagrobolized.

He felt drunk but he couldn't remember having anything. He rubbed his face against the cheek of the body he had pinned against a pile of boxes. His hand stumbled its way up the thin torso and he got that drunk feeling again. He heard footsteps and jumped up. He stuck his head out and waved at the owner of the feet, who had just raised an eyebrow as he shut the door. He kneeled further in the room so even if the door was opened they wouldn't be seen. And beckoned the smiling face up to him. Dazed eyes looked up at him and the question of their sobriety popped into his head again. His lips barely touched his companies neck and he was pushed back onto a plush blanket behind him. He didn't have time to wonder where the blanket had come from before he was shirtless. He felt soft skin rub along his face again; their lips had yet to meet. He ran his hands down the long back slowly. Lips were on his jaw. His fingers hit the elastic band still covering his final destination. His hands slid beneath the fabric and felt the silky skin beneath, gasps were hot against his neck. Teeth locked onto his neck and his pace quickened. He felt slim fingers slide beneath his jeans. He was staring at the ceiling gasping for air. He felt down and his shirt had risen. He was back in his bed. He looked around his darkened room and felt sad that the scene his brain had just conjured up would never happen. A tiny chirp called to him and he felt for his phone. He had a missed call. That must have been what had woken him. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the name on the screen. -Good morning.- he pulled the blankets over his head and took in a few quick breaths before his fingers found the keys and he replied.

-You are late. SH- He blinked and looked at his clock. He pressed the alarm button and it read out 8:55am. He still had 3 minutes to sleep. He rolled over with his phone pulled to him and replied again. -No. 45 minutes.- His eyes closed but another text came. -The meeting moved. Now John. SH- The bed creaked and he rolled over, sitting up. He grumbled as he got dressed. He didn't know why Sherlock couldn't have just woken him up. His mirror image smiled at him reminding him that the detective had gone out late in the evening, and he hadn't heard him come back. He adjusted his jumper and grabbed his phone and jacket before walking out the door. He still didn't understand why it was necessary for him to be there. There had been an argument but it had been useless. He didn't have money for a taxi, so he started to walk. A car slid up next to him a few minutes later. He had just turned from Baker St. 'Care for a ride?' He didn't even need to look to know Mycroft was sitting comfortably in the car. He wondered if the conversation the elder wanted was worth the ride. He kept walking and the car followed him. His phone chirped and he pulled it out. -Get in the car.- He sighed and turned to the car. Mycroft wasn't going to leave him alone.

Sherlock sat at Lestrade's desk with a bored look on his face. Lestrade was working on something he had been successful so far with keeping it hidden from the detective. Lestrade's eyes flicked up when the door opened. John walked in and sat down in the first chair. He looked up to Lestrade and it was clear he wanted to get started. 'Finally gracing us with your presen-' Sherlock started. 'Shut up.' John interrupted, he shot a dark glare at the shocked brunet. His eyes moved back to Lestrade who after a second of shock started talking. John pointed out a mistake he saw on the report and Lestrade nodded. He glanced to Sherlock who was still staring at the doctor. 'I'll take the case.' Lestrade handed the file to Sherlock who was standing now. John was already out the door.

Sherlock watched as the elevator doors shut. He heard the snicker from Anderson. He whirled and started down the stairs. There was no sign of the doctor when he got to the bottom. He sent a text, but didn't expect a reply. The ride home was quiet. When Baker Street came into view he knew that John was home. He opened the door and paused. John motioned with his hand and he shut the door. It was strange. He could tell from the eyes watching him that he had done something the good doctor didn't approve of. There was movement and his eyes flicked to the bag being pulled out of the dark jacket the doctor was still wearing. Internally his eyes widened and he looked at his flat mate with a renewed respect. On the outside he just looked bored. He couldn't believe that he had found the stash. It was well hidden. He'd made sure of that long ago. There was no way he just stumbled upon it. His eyes wandered to the face now glaring at him. Maybe he had judging by the outraged expression. Or at least stumbled upon the secret latch. 'What?' he finally said after it was apparent that Watson was just going to keep staring at him until he gave some sort of acknowledgement of the drugs swinging in their bag between John's fingers. Eyes roamed over his face, searching for something. 'Ha!' He jumped at the loud laugh escaping his companion. He cursed himself for doing so but it had been so unexpected. A tiny flick of his wrist and the doctor sent the bag flying at his chest. His hand closed over it. John brushed past him and the front door slammed shut. He moved to the window and watched John as he disappeared.

Lestrade called a few hours later, John was still out. He slid out the door and was off. There had been a new development to the case. He hadn't been paying attention when the Inspector had been going over the case, but he was glad his distraction had found him an interesting case. He spent a few hours going over some facts before heading back to the flat. He noticed the door was open a crack and he jumped to attention. He slowly opened the door, but it did not appear there was any danger.

He stepped in and saw John draped over the couch. He looked the same as when he had left. Sherlock shut the door and slid his jacket off his shoulders. John's had been dropped on the floor beneath the coat rack. He picked it up and hung it on the hook next to his. He poked the doctor with his foot. A grunt of disapproval was all he got. 'John.' This seemed to bring the good doctor back. 'Huh?' He sat up suddenly eyes wide and searching. They found Sherlock and a wide smile spread across the blond's face. 'Sherlock.' He took a step back. 'You're drunk.' A nod and the smile widened. 'I don't even know how I got here.' He laughed and flopped back onto the couch. Sherlock sat on the chair across the from the now giggling man. He opened his mouth to speak but a finger went up. 'This is all your fault.' Sherlock raised an eyebrow. 'It is!' John said throwing his hands in the air. 'He blamed me.' The detective looked over to where John's face had fallen. 'Who are you talking about?' John turned his head and smiled. 'No one.' He looked at the table. Sherlock followed his eyes and grimaced. John reached for the bag but Sherlock was faster and shoved it into his pocket. 'I didn't understand.' John slipped to the ground with that final sentiment. Sherlock winced as he hit the ground, he hadn't been fast enough to stop his fall. He pulled the man up to the couch and pulled one of the blankets over the now sleeping form. He pulled the bag out of his pocket and held it up in the light. 'You didn't understand?' he looked down at the doctor. 'But you do now?'

A/N: Ummm... I wrote this right after I finished series 1... so its a little old, but I was stumped on where I to go with it. I'd welcome ideas. Let me know what you think. PLEASE! R&R

Oh..! I've never heard the chapter title before but now its my favorite word.