This is my first Sherlock fanfic, so I hope you guys like it! Please review and thanks for reading! :)

It was John's birthday today. Sherlock had woken up to find John humming as he cooked breakfast for the both of them. John never hummed. Sherlock thought for awhile, trying to deduce why John was so happy that day. The humming. He was still in his raggedy pyjamas. (he usually dressed right after he woke up.) there had been a few envelopes addressed to John on the fireplace this morning, showing that John was expecting such letters. "oh... Happy birthday John." said Sherlock, slightly embarrassed he had forgotten his only friend's birthday. John had only smiled at him, holding a plate of eggs to Sherlock as he plated his own. "it's okay Sherlock. I know you're no good with this kind of stuff. I don't take it personally anymore." Sherlock smiled in response as he sat down at the table, quickly digging into his eggs. He hadn 't eaten in days due to a case, but they had finally finished it. He was always surprised by how understanding and forgiving John was. Especially towards Sherlock. "So, what is we are doing today John? I may be a sociopath, but I do understand the customs of birthdays quite well." John had stared at him for awhile, his eyes wide and a slight flush to his cheeks. He finally shook his head in response, clearing his throat before saying," Well, I thought I'd spend the day loafing around, since I don't do that anymore, and then tonight I plan to go out with a bunch of friends. Including you Sherlock. I know socializing isn't your thing, but I'd really appreciate you making an effort tonight." John sighed as he finished his small speech, looking at Sherlock fully now, staring straight at him. Sherlock frowned for a minute, his mind whirling at John's words. He then looked up at John, a smile on his face. "It IS your birthday John. I will... Try to be nice. More then usual. Is that sufficient for you?" John only grinned in response before nodding, the huge grin still on his face as he turned away. "yes Sherlock, that's sufficient. Oh, by the way, we're out of milk. I'll go-" "No John. I have to go out to get something anyway, so I shall go and fetch the milk." John had frozen mid-step. He turned back towards Sherlock, before shaking his head once more, as if coming out of a daze. He turned back around, heading out of the kitchen to the sitting room to watch some Telly. Sherlock's smile grew bigger at this. He knew he had shocked his friend at his declaration. He never went and go get groceries. Ever. But this one time, he would go pick up the milk. He quickly sat up from his chair in the kitchen, hurrying to the shower to get ready to go out.

Later that day...

"John! Where are we going?" John just smirked as they walked down the street side by side. "Oh, just a pub Sherlock. Nothing to worry about." Sherlock grimaced. John knew how much he hated pubs, the smell of alcohol and body odor the only thing that could be smelled in such a horrible place. The sound of all the drunks and alcoholics always getting rowdy always gave Sherlock a headache, and even the idea of one made him cringe! He had only visited such places when on a case. And apparently now for John's birthday. Speaking of his short friend, he heard John Laugh at his grimace as they continued walking, their shoes clicking against the hard concrete. "you'll survive Sherlock. I'll buy you a drink to help you through your despair." Sherlock grimaced again as John chuckled at his little joke. They had finally reached the pub and flew in, the chill air being replaced by wonderful warmth. John scanned the room, before raising his hand in acknowledgement to people Sherlock couldn't see. John dashed off in the direction of his friends, Sherlock following close behind. Finally three men came into Sherlock's view, all with a relaxed smile pasted on Their faces. "John!" they all shouted As he came closer, each of the men getting up to give him a hug. After all the hugs were passed around they all sat down, quickly getting into conversation about the latest footy game. There was a single chair next to John, so Sherlock grabbed that and sat down, observing John's friends. The first one, "Ben" (he thought that was right) was clearly an office worker who was dealing with an unhappy marriage and was going through what was called a "mid-life crisis." The next one, Jim, was a high school professor and was clearly gay, though he was not attracted to any of the men here and was currently dating a man who was at least 15 years younger then him. (might be younger, not sure. Really just a guess on that one.) the last one he clearly knew. It was the John friend Stanford, the one John frequented pubs with. Sherlock did not particularly like Stanford, and the feeling was clearly mutual. It was so clear from the obvious sneer on Stanford's face as Sherlock had sat next to John. "So John, you bring the freak here with you huh?" John grimaced at his friend. "Stan don't do this. Not on my birthday, okay man?" Stanford just stared at John before nodding his head and mumbling something about, "telling the freak that too." Sherlock raised his hand to Stanford. "Always nice to see you Stanford. How's the...job going?" Stanford just stared in shock at Sherlock's statement, as did John. Sherlock never tried to make small talk. He only said what was on his mind and never tried to make niceties with muttered once more, taking Sherlock's hand, weakly shaking it before slumping a bit in his chair. As Sherlock looked away he caught sight of John smiling at him, an emotion Sherlock could not figure out. Joy? Pride? A mix of the two? Sherlock didn't know. Emotions weren't his specialty, and probably never would be. He stored John's expression for later investigation as he ordered a drink, expecting a long night of constant mouth-shutting.

Sherlock stumbled through their front door, a heavy dead weight that was once a sober John Watson leaning on him for some form of stability. His friends at the pub had made him drink too many shots to count, changing to harder and harder liquor as the night carried on. John had accepted every drink with confidence, as if he could actually hold his liqour. Oh was he wrong. John had finally become so drunk that he had fallen to their table, muttering and chuckling to himself as he laid there, drool forming a small puddle on the dark wood beneath. Sherlock had picked up John in a flash, saying that "John had reached his alcohol limit" and that he should "probably take him home now." The men had just laughed, in their own drunken hazes as Sherlock dragged John out of the pub. Now as Sherlock maneuvered slowly up the stairs, he wish he had taken John home sooner. He certainly wouldn't have had to put on his "friendly" face as long as he did. He kept his promise to John, acting cordial while sipping at his beer (That John had bought him), as the four other men had just sat and laughed. As Sherlock reached the top step at last, he heard John mutter something into Sherlock's coat. "Do speak up John. I know you're thoroughly 'pissed', but it would do you good to up the volume so people can actually hear you." John just mumbled into Sherlock once more. Sherlock grimaced, heading towards the couch where he sat John down as careful as he could. John fell back in an instant, his head lolling against the head of the couch as he seemed to fall asleep. "John. John, do not fall asleep here! I am not dragging you up to your room John! John!" John didn't move, a light snore escaping his lips as if to mock him. Sherlock sighed in frustration, strutting towards John before grabbing his shoulders and shaking John as rough as he could. "John. John. Wake up!"

John's head snapped up all of a sudden, staring straight at Sherlock. His eyes were glassy and his posture was still loose and relaxed as he continued to stare for what seemed like a very long time, a small smile on his lips.

"Sherlock. Heeeey."

"John, you are obviously still very drunk. It would be wise for you to go upstairs and "sleep it off" as you say." John just continued staring at Sherlock, humming now as if in agreement with him. Sherlock grabbed John's arm again, preparing to carry him at least part way up the stairs before dumping him to head to his own room. He WAS John's friend after all, and it WAS his birthday. He could do John this one small favour. Before Sherlock could put any effort into lifting John though, one of John's own hands grabbed onto his shirt. "You always look good in this shirt Sherlock." John chuckled. "Shirt. Sherlock. Hehe. They both start with Sher!" Sherlock rolled his eyes at John's comment. "Really John, your drunken comments never cease to amaze me. Now please be a good boy and help me lift you up!" John giggled at Sherlock's annoyance, singing "Sher Sher" to annoy him further. "John, I hope you know that you are acting like a complete nutter right now, and I would really... appreciate it, if you would stop. John only giggled again in response, a hiccup escaping his mouth before he burst into giggles once more. "Shure Sherlock. PFFFT another Sher! haha! I am soooo funny!" "John please, you are clearly-MPH." Sherlock's eyes opened wide as he felt a single digit on his mouth shushing him as John leaned forward, drunken eyes focused on his own clear ones. "You know Sherrrrlock, you have a reeeeally pretty face. Has anyone ever told you that? That you're pretty?" Sherlock just stared, John's serious tone making Sherlock feel something he rarely felt anymore. Nervous. Sherlock saw John move his face closer, their bodies almost touching now as he felt a breath ghost over his face, the smell of alcohol heavy in the air. John's eyes seemed to be black now, his pupils heavily dilated as he smiled whispering, "Because you are you know. You're sooo pretty." Then Sherlock felt a nose bump his own as cool, chapped lips were pressed to his. John's lips.

Sherlock stared at John in shock seeing he had closed his eyes, a small moan coming from his throat as he pressed his lips harder int oSherlock's, urging him to respond. Sherlock just stayed stock still, his eyes still wide, his body frozen. He then felt John's tongue slide against his lips, a simple request clear as day to him. "Open up for me. Please." Sherlock snapped then, his brain short-circuiting for the first time in his life as he closed his eyes, his lips now applying pressure to John's own. Another moan was heard from John as Sherlock started to reciprocate, his lips moving in synch with his partner's. Sherlock felt a tongue encircle his lips once more before it pushed through, exploring his mouth thoroughly. He felt the tongue pass over his teeth, felt it run along his gums. And then John's tongue met his. And all he saw was white. Sherlock moaned, the feeling of a tongue against his euphoric, almost heady as he rolled his tongue with John's, the two tangling around each other in perfect synch. Sherlock's hands went up to his friend's head, gripping the short blonde locks as he continued the kiss. John mimicked the action a second later, his hands clutching at Sherlock's own curly auburn hair as moans and groans escaped them both. HOW had he thought that human interaction such as this was stupid and irrational. It felt so good...No wonder everyone was always making out on the streets. John broke the kiss then to take a huge gulp of air before he smiled, his eyes glazed for more than one reason now as he panted along with Sherlock. "Been wanting to do that for ages. Hope you don't mind." Sherlock just looked at John, his breath coming out in pants as he responded. "No. No its fine. It was...*cough* It was quite an experiment." John's smile just grew at that before his head fell to Sherlock's shoulder, a small giggle erupting from him. "Everything's an experiment with you Sher. Thats why I..." Sherlock heard John mumble something before a loud snore filled the room.

Sherlock just chuckled as he watched John slump over the couch in his sleep, falling almost completely horizontal. He watched John settle into an uncomfortable position before reality struck him. They had just kissed. Made out. Whatever the phrase was. Sherlock lept back from his spot on the couch, tripping over the coffee table in his urge to get away. He fell straight on his face, the rough scratch of the carpet leaving a rug burn. "Augh!" Pain quickly took hold as he rolled over onto his bum, rubbing his hand over the burning patch of skin. He stared at John, his body completely horizontal on the couch now as he continued to snore, completely unconscious and oblivious. Sherlock sat there on the floor for awhile, contemplating what had just happened. He certainly had enjoyed the new experience, the reminder of JOhn's lips against his own sending a warm feeling through him. He looked down at himself, noticing for the first time that night that he was sporting an erection. 'Hmmm. This has not occurred since my period of pubesence.' A million ideas floated through his head, minutes and seconds feeling like hours as he absorbed new information. He knew now that John felt attracted to him, if his innebriated confession has been anything to go on. Not to mention the kiss John had initiated. He also now knew that he too felt some sort of feelings for John, judging from his erection and the part of his brain that was screaming for him to go and ravage John with everything he had. He was not sure if these were just feelings of lust though. He would have to investigate this. He smirked, beautiful ideas of numerous potential "experiments" he could run to come to some sort of conclusion on this. "Oh-ho, this will be fun." Rising up from his place on the floor he placed a blanket over John before shuffling to his room, a night of quiet contemplation what he really needed before his experiments could begin.

For the game was now on.