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FYI-The fanfic is based on Robert Downey Jr and Jude Law in the 2009 Sherlock Holmes movie.

Disclaimer- I don't own RDJ or JL or Sherlock Holmes… Or a rabbit as a matter of fact

Summery-

Sherlock and Watson have a complex relationship, Its about to get more complicated.

-Few days after chapter 1

Chapter 2: "Well I'm... I'm just so...very glad that you're um... well, with us."

Sherlock stood in front of his window, it was late and having no mirror in his room since his last mishap it was the next best option. He straightened his pinstriped scarf and pulled down his waistcoat. He was looking forward to the evening ahead. Himself and Watson usually dined out tonight, discussed current cases and ended the night with a boxing match. John usually insisted on this since Holmes had a habit of keeping him in the dark about his ideas and intentions but was less likely to do so if Watson paid for a full stomach.

He gave himself a half hearted approving smile and turned to look at the door and held his silver pocket watch in his hand.

" 3..2..1.."

Watson walked through the door and placed his cane to lean against the frame. He was dressed in his military suit. Navy blue with green trimmed stripes, running across his chest. Clean cut and perfectly neat. More than usual.

" Nice to see you Watson as always, I presume by your attire we'll be dining at the royal tonight?"

Watson looked confused but decided there was no point asking. Holmes took notice in every single detail. It wasn't new to John for Holmes to know what hadn't been told.

"Sorry old boy, not tonight, I'm having dinner with Mary's parents"

This was the third week in a row Watson had left Holmes to his own amusements for his fiancé. Holmes felt a rush of anger and resentment to that name 'Mary'.

"Where are we going then? I should hope you don't take them anywhere too cheap or they'll want to keep hold of that dowry"

Holmes knew that he wasn't invited to dinner but liked to see Watson feel guilty if he was leaving him to his own accord.

"We? There is no we Holmes, This is a dinner with my fiancé and her parents, don't you think you have had enough wine thrown in your face?" Watson replied with a smug smile.

Holmes just glanced at the floor and turned on his heels. He picked up a letter opener from a table and sat down pretending to be amused with the object.

"If you're going to dinner with Mary's parents then why are you here?"

"Because you stole my jacket, where is it?"

"Its my jacket, you gave it me, we agreed it was too small for you"

"I want it back, Where is it"

Holmes eyes flickered to the chair sitting between them both where the jacket lay. They both dove to grab the coat. Watson quick on his feet as always reached there with ease and retrieved the jacket with composure while Sherlock failed and ended in a slump on the floor. Holmes composed himself and leant on the chair. John smiled watching the expression on his face. He liked it when Sherlock almost sulked when he didn't get the upper hand on him. It was cute. John frowned at his thoughts and folded the jacket over his arm. He grabbed his cane from the side of the door.

"I'm going to be late. See you tomorrow outside the jewellers"

He moved to leave until Sherlock spoke

"Jewellers?"

"Your helping me pick Mary's engagement ring"

Holmes looked shocked, a look John could read easily. He didn't want to be associated with anything to do with Mary and John knew that.

Before Sherlock could refuse John spoke again.

"Since you insist on with holding me my money, I presume you'll want to keep a cap on my spending".

Holmes realised that Watson was using everything Holmes tormented him for, against him and his face dropped. John could almost see the cogs in his head moving, playing a chess game in his head of which excuse could work, how long for and if Watson could use it against him at another time.

John smirked

"10 'o' clock, don't be late!" he said closing the door not bothering to hear Sherlock's reply

"Don't be early" Holmes muttered to himself.

Holmes leant against the wooden outer ring. His head bobbing back and forth as he was punched again in the face. He knew he shouldn't drink so much before going into the ring but he felt better for it. Or for better words he felt less. He composed himself and walked around the ring, Spinning and clapping his hands to the music. Moving his body in any motion that felt right.

He was tackled to the ground, another fist meeting his face before he could stop his head spinning and react. He rolled the man straddling him over onto his back and repeatedly slapped his face and neck until the larger balded man sent Sherlock flying into the ring edge with a kick.

Holmes bewildered and sore had his fill of fighting for the night.

"Ok, That's it big man you win"

There were shouts from the crowd gathered around him, clearly dissatisfied with his surrender. He ignored their calls.

"That's it? Come back I'm not done with you yet"

Holmes ignored his opponent and held up a hand bidding him farewell then made his way to the edge of the ring. The brute growled in annoyance as his glory win had been cut short.

"Going back to your doctor are we?"

Holmes continued walking

"And whose bed is he in tonight then eh? His fiancés? Or yours?"

There were a mixture of laughs and gasps from the crowd around him.

Holmes stopped mid-stride.

~This must not register on an emotional level.

Firstly target will approach with right hook. Apply elbow block. Secondly damage sinus with palm. Eyes watering. Block blind left hook. Then Impair trachea, Crack right ribs with knee. Break weakened nose then fracture jaw, Will attempt a wild haymaker, Capture wrist. Dislocate shoulder. Finally break jaw entirely and round kick to left ribs.

Injuries sustained, broken nose, Impaired trachea, 3 broken ribs, 5 cracked, broken jaw, dislocated right shoulder, left lung punchered. Estimated physical recovery, 1 month. Estimated emotional recovery, 1 year. Verbal abuse of Watson. Neutralised. ~

Holmes blinked out of his daydream and moved casually to the other side of the ring, face to face with his opponent. He stood, tense, ready.

The brute sneered and threw a fast punch towards Sherlock's face, but was then cut short from Holmes' elbow block and attack back. The man stumbled backwards, eyes watering. His vision blurred he took no chances at Holmes getting another punch in and swung his left arm hoping to catch Holmes off guard, but this was blocked also. He was forced backwards again as Holmes jabbed his fist into his throat, His breathing stopped momentarily and he threw his head forward as if to cough out what was choking him. He managed to retain the rhythm albeit not easily. As he lifted his head slightly to look at Holmes the man was closer than he expected and he gasped, not from shock but from the pain in his chest as Sherlock's knee impacted with his rips. The brute bent in half holding his chest and a fist met his nose, He instantly felt the bloody rush. He stood as straight as he could but before he could counteract another fist met his jaw and his head was forced to the side. The brute was not ready to loose to this skinny runt of a man and threw a wild punch, which to his misfortune was captured by Sherlock. Before he could pull his arm away from the mysterious man he was pulled forward and a punch landed close to his collarbone. He tried to yell in pain but his throat felt paralysed. As he was sunned by pain another punch shook his head and pain shot up his jaw to his temple. He was stumbling back again. His wits were totally lost from the pain reaching all of his body. He saw Sherlock walking briskly towards him and wanted to plead but his body wouldn't allow him. He watched on as a kick to his side knocked him to the floor. The pain got too much and he stayed, semi conscience on the floor. The cheers and laughter the audience were enjoying before were now silenced. All stared at Holmes in bewilderment at his ability. All feeling as if they were cheated out of their money but not having courage enough to question the victor.

Holmes stared at his withered enemy and relaxed at the realisation that he wasn't getting up anytime soon. He walked to the edge of the ring and slowly climbed over, knowing the alcohol wouldn't allow him to jump over with his dignity intact. He leaned over the bar and pulled two beers from the other side and slapped his money on the hard wood as he walked away to leave for the serenity of the quieter upstairs room. Holmes usually left for home on baker street after two drinks, slightly stumbling and collapsing into his bed but as he thought of leaving for home so he could be fresh in the morning to help Watson pick out a ring for his fiancé, a feeling of dread and anger came over him, He drank more so he didn't have to leave the safety of his seat. Watson never had luck with the ladies before, so why did he have that "luck" now. He sneered at his own thoughts. Luck. Sherlock didn't consider Mary to be the kind of woman you would be lucky to get. He saddened at his own thoughts. She had Watson, and he didn't. He threw his empty bottle at the wall in the bar and stumbled out the door onto the street. Looking around dumb-founded before deciding left was the right way home.

Watson sat across from Mary's parents. Listening to his fiancés rants of being a governess to her mother. He had been pleasant as always and respectful. But his mind felt elsewhere. It wasn't that he was bored. It was Sherlock's face of pain as john told him he wasn't to dine with them tonight. Holmes always hid these sorts of emotions. But it was fair to say john knew him all to well to not notice when the smaller man was upset, even if he showed only a flicker. He loved his fiancé but he hated that soon he would be married and would have to be a husband to his wife. Not the assistant to his best friend, His brother. He wanted to be with Holmes tonight but he knew if he missed this dinner Mary's father wouldn't think twice about ending their engagement. His mind settled on the facts. He shouldn't want to spend this much time with Holmes. It was unnatural. He had to stay with Mary.

"John?"
Watson snapped out of his daydreams and looked towards his fiancés worried voice.

"John, Mother and father are leaving now"

John instantly stood and smiled at his future in laws and thanked them for joining them for dinner.

"Mary, are you not coming home with us dear?" Her mother spoke

Mary looked towards john, who spoke up before she could answer.

"I have work papers to attend to" He smiled knowing she wanted to leave with her parents anyway for the convenience of their carriage and since they were not yet married having her stay with him could ruin her reputation. Not like john cared much what people would say.

Mary and her parents said goodnight as they got to their carriage and Watson Headed down the street swinging his cane with every step.

Holmes stumbled through a back road that lead from the bar street onto baker street. He pushed himself away from a wall he seemed to be scraping across and tried to dodge rubbish that seemed to be moving in his way. He started singing merrily to himself swinging his arms to the imaginary music he could hear, until he fell onto his front. He almost giggled at his own stupidity and started lifting himself from the floor. His amusement ended when he realised someone had his or her foot on his back. He tried to turn and see who this person was then a heavy boot clad foot collided with his face. He instantly rolled managing to get the foot off his back and stumbling into a standing position. Three men stood before him all average height and weight, none of them particularly pleasing. Holmes stared at them in slight confusion, his whole body swaying.

"Ello there Mr Holmes"

Sherlock mearly lifted his arm in greeting.

"Ya know sir, When you an that other man went into the ring, Me and me pals here thought there wa no way you were gunna beat the big guy"

Holmes slurred, "A-are you chaps fans? Welllll I'm terribly sorry but I've left my pen at the.. Ermm.. The.." He pointed over the men's heads. "The erm.. Bar! So come back tomorrow!" He started to turn to carry on home.

"I wouldn't be walkins away if I were you sir."

Sherlock looked at the men bemused.

"When I saw yer, I knew I'd seen ya somewhere, Then I only gone and recognised you from another boxing bar, an I gone an noticed that you're geddin aloda money from beatin thems people up an now you jus taken all mah monies off me aint ya."

"Gambling does that" Sherlock slurred again and made an attempt at a smirk.

The man smiled back "hold him down boys!"

Before Holmes could react two of the men had his arms held behind his back. He looked at them both and glanced at the grip they had on his arms then took his eyes to the ringleader that was closer to him now and smiled dumbly.

The man smiled back before punching Holmes in the torso making him keel over. The men to the sides of him were laughing as their friend continued to throw punches at Holmes. The man stepped back after a few more punches giving Holmes the chance to twist out of the other two men's hold on his arms. He threw a punch at one of them, missing and stumbling in the direction his fist took. All three of the men laughed walking towards Holmes as he picked himself up, confused and questioning himself as to how he got there. One of the sidemen came forward and kicked Sherlock in the stomach causing him to fall again and roll onto his back. Holmes covered his head with his arms as all three men then started kicking and stamping. He tried to crawl out of their reach only for them to follow him on. Holmes felt like he could sleep. He could feel the pain but he just wanted to sleep. He felt himself drifting off, stopping any attempt to protect himself when he heard a familiar voice shouting behind him. The three men stopped their attacks as the man walked towards them shouting. Sherlock realised this was his chance to try and get up and defend himself but as he knelt up a boot met the side of his face, pain stinging his cheek bones, the force sent him on his back again. He readied himself for more kicks but relaxed hearing the three men's voices getting quieter. They had left.

Sherlock decided now was a good time to sleep. He lay there smiling to himself before his saviours voice rang through his ears again. He was too tired to make out what they were saying he just kept smiling. He started drifting off as he felt something ice cold touch his face. His eyes snapped open to see Watson above him cane in hand, his head crooked to the side waiting for Holmes to respond.

"Watson!" Holmes started to stand shouting his friends name as though he hadn't seen him in years and rambling nonsense john couldn't understand.

John saw Sherlock start to fall and gripped his arm. Pulling him closer. Sherlock's ramblings stopped instantly. His glassy drunk eyes staring into Watson's. John was intimidated by the look in Sherlock's eyes and edged back slightly. He was unfamiliar with the look on Holmes's face. Holmes noticed Johns edging back and snapped out of his thoughts and allowed Watson to support him round his shoulder. They walked, Watson trying to keep Sherlock's singing and shouting to a minimum as they walked out of the alleyway and onto baker street.

Watson walked in with a tray of tea in his hands. He didn't want to wake Mrs Hudson and worry her so he had made it himself. He placed it on a table out of reach from Holmes who he had thrown onto one of the chairs near the window.

"What in gods name were you thinking Holmes?" Watson was keeping quiet but the intensity of his voice showed he was angry.
"The amount of people that want you dead in this place and you get so blinding drunk that you cant even walk let alone fight!"

Holmes didn't offer much in a reply
"I had my reasons" This just infuriated john more and his voice was no longer low

"Alright Holmes ill amuse you, what were your motives? Were you testing a new chemical? Perhaps one that takes you from drunk to sober in two seconds?" He sat down across from Holmes, elbows leaning on knees and when no reply came he carried on.

"No? All right lets see. Ah I know, you were in character, you were watching someone and in order to blend in you had to be as drunk and worthless as every other person in the bar. No no that cant be it"

Watson tapped his chin in fake wonder. Holmes leaning forward in the same position as Watson rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't know what explanation to give Watson. He couldn't tell him the real reason he's in this state. That he felt a pain in his chest every time Watson so much as mentioned Mary, let alone left him to go spend time with her, it was far past the point of loosing his colleague. It was even past loosing his friend. He was jealous. Everything about Watson appealed to him. His slight limp as he walked, His smirk, His laughter, His toned arms through his shirt, The way his brow furrowed when he concentrated, The cold look in his eyes when he was angry, That was his favourite. The anger in his voice, slight reddening in his face, His gestures. Sherlock had wanted Watson to stay with him. Now he realises, as more than his doctor or his friend, and now it was being taken away from him. He looked and watched Watson, Still shouting. There it is, the toned arms, cold eyes, sarcastic voice, furrowed brows. Holmes leaned further forward. His hand found the back of Watson's neck, Watson stopped talking and stared at Holmes, He felt his heart beat in his throat at the look in Sherlock's eyes, The same in the alley.

"Holme-"

Sherlock's lips pressed on his cut off Watson's question. His eyes were wide in shock. His face flushing red as Sherlock pulled back. His head was swimming in thoughts he couldn't hear, Confused with his heart beat erratic. He did the only thing he could think to do.

He watched as Sherlock reeled back in pain, Taking out his handkerchief and holding it to his face. Watson didn't feel any more stable for punching him. His head was flashing the images of Holmes kissing him before his eyes. He felt an ache in his chest. A need to be touching him. An urge he couldn't resist, he moved forward pushing Sherlock's back against the chair before sliding his hands round his neck and forcing Holmes to kiss him again.