"Wait!" John called out toward Mycroft as he was leaving, struggling under the weight of Sherlock who had, apparently, decided it was a good idea to not stand on his own at all and just lean completely on John.

Surprisingly, the elder Holmes turned around and faced John. "Aren't you going to, I don't know, explain this?" John asked in confusion, looking at Sherlock who had taken to whistling. It was preferable to the off key singing but it was still annoying.

"Considering the day that the two of you have had I would think that an explanation is not necessary" Mycroft said.

John felt himself start to get irritated. He hated Mycroft's superiority and "Big Brother" attitude. Of course Mycroft knew exactly what had happened at the crime scene without being anywhere close to it. Normally John would just blow it off but right now he was just annoyed by it. "I understand his need to drink but I want to know how is it you found him" John asked, miffed.

"I didn't find him" Mycroft said, "He was causing such a ruckus in the bar that they called me." He looked at Sherlock with the look of disgust that an older sibling gives a younger one when they are being embarrassing.

John wasn't sure he wanted to know what consisted of Sherlock causing a "ruckus" in a bar. It seemed so out of character and though it was irritating, it was kind of alarming too. John had never seen Sherlock consume more than one drink at a time; he must really be shaken up.

"I trust that you can take good care of him" Mycroft said, preparing to leave once again.

It was at this moment that Sherlock seemed to notice John's presence. "John!" he exclaimed, still leaning on John and moving in so that his face was uncomfortably close "My John! Yes, of course John will take good care of me" Sherlock leaned in even more and patted him on the shoulder. "My John is a very good doctor"

John felt his face turn red with embarrassment at Sherlock's closeness and compliments, especially his usage of "my" John. John shrugged Sherlock off his shoulder, and once he saw that Sherlock wasn't going to immediately fall over, he moved a slightly away from him, to what he considered a safe distance. Mycroft was fixing John with a smirk. " Oh, by the way, Sherlock's a friendly drunk" he said before turning and leaving the flat.

Good riddance, John thought as he watched Mycroft leave the flat. John turned around and looked at Sherlock who was standing a few feet from him, with an unusual smile on his face and appearing to stare off into space. It was weird; John had seen Sherlock staring off, deep in thought, but he had never seen him stare off as if he was not focused which is exactly how he looked now. John wondered how much he had drunk and what had happened that had prompted Mycroft needing to be called.

"Sherlock, what is going on here?" John asked. "What were you doing? What could you have been doing to be called out of bar?"

Sherlock continued to stare off into space. A minuet passed before John said, "Hey, Sherlock, wake up!" Sherlock finally moved his gaze until he was staring at John. He still had a wide grin on his face. "What were you doing Sherlock?" he asked, now that Sherlock was looking at him.

Sherlock just continued to smile at him. After a ridiculously long time, Sherlock finally spoke. "Hi, John" he said waving at John.

John put his hands on his face and rubbed his eyes; he could see that this was going to be very interesting. Sherlock was on a completely other planet. "Um, hi, Sherlock" John said slowly. "Want to tell me why Mycroft had to take you home?"

"Oh, I don't know!" Sherlock said loudly, "I was just drinking, chatting with people and next thing I know Mycroft shows up and takes me home. I was having fun, so I don't know why we had to leave. But I guess Mycroft always ruins my fun." He crossed his arms like a pouting child.

There were so many things wrong with that statement that John didn't even know where to start. Sherlock "chatting" with people? Having fun doing something other than his work? It didn't make any sense at all. John looked at Sherlock closer and noticed a small red spot on his face. "Did you get in a fight?" John asked incredulously. It looked very much like he had been hit.

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock asked. He looked at John as though he had lost his sanity.

John walked over to Sherlock and touched the spot on his cheek. "There, you've got a spot on your face. Did you get into a fight with someone?"

Sherlock smiled broadly. "Oh, that? Um…..I fell. Tripped" he said dismissively.

John wasn't buying it. He looked at Sherlock's hand, which had scrapes on the knuckles. He grabbed Sherlock's hand and pointed to the scrapes. "Suppose you got that from falling down too?" he asked sarcastically.

Sherlock looked in astonishment at his knuckles as if they belonged to someone else. "Well, would you look at that?" he said.

"Oh, brother…." John muttered under his breath. He sat down in his chair and drank the last bit of alcohol out of his cup from earlier. The slight buzz that he was feeling earlier had burned off and he was desperate to get it back, especially if Sherlock was going to be completely out of it. As he was pouring himself another drink, Sherlock walked over to him and leaned, again, way too close in to his face before saying, "Really, John, you shouldn't be drinking so much."

John cursed before pushing Sherlock back away from him a little bit. "Personal space,
Sherlock!" he asked irritably. "And I don't really think you should be lecturing me on drinking when you're obviously wasted." John drank the whole glass in a couple of gulps, barley tasting it.

"I also don't have a family history of alcoholism either" Sherlock said, "And I'm not wasted" As if disprove his point, Sherlock lost his balance, falling on his backside.

The jab at Harry should have made him angry, but maybe the alcohol was getting to him because he just laughed at the sight of Sherlock fallen in the floor. "No, you're completely sober" John said sarcastically, laughing. As awful as the day had been he finally was beginning to feel himself relax a bit as the alcohol began to work its way through his body.

John left Sherlock in floor and went to the bathroom. When he came back he noticed that Sherlock was no longer lying in the floor. He found Sherlock on the couch, apparently watching whatever crappy program was on television while eating ice cream out the carton. John had never seen Sherlock eat ice cream, much less like he was now, savagely digging it out of the carton with a spoon. It was so comical that John didn't bother to mention that it was his ice cream. "Good ice cream?" John asked, trying to suppress a laugh as he sat down in his chair.

"Very good" Sherlock said "Want some?" he thrust the battered carton at John.

"Um, no, that's okay. Really that's okay" John said, with a laugh. "Alcohol and ice cream don't really mix"

"Really, I'm finding it a good combination" Sherlock said.

"Well, just be careful" John said, cautiously "I don't want you puking all over the couch"

Sherlock scrunched his nose in a disgusted pose. "Uh, why would I do that?" he asked.

"Oh, no reason" John said, "You're just shoving a whole tub of dairy products on top of a belly of alcohol….no big deal" he watched as Sherlock continued to eat , not even bothering to look up. "Aren't you slightly lactose intolerant? I mean it makes you sick if you eat a lot of milk, right?"

"Oh, dull" Sherlock said through a mouthful of ice cream, sounding slightly like his normal self. "Mother never could stop me from eating ice cream, I doubt you will"

John was surprised at Sherlock's mention of his mother; he'd only heard him mention her one other time and that was just in passing, when explaining who Mycroft was when he's first met him. Perhaps, in addition to making him do things he would normally never do like sing, eat and forget all sense of personal space, the alcohol was loosening him a little to talk about things. "I'm not trying to stop you" John said, "Though, I'd imagine your mother tried to stop you because it make you not feel good."

"I suppose" Sherlock said, looking off into the distance. Then he began to shovel it in again. "But it was always worth it"

"So there is actually something to eat you admit you like?" John asked in shock.

"Obviously" Sherlock said rolling his eyes.

"Well, enjoy the belly cramps" John said sarcastically. He knew Sherlock enough to know if he bent on doing something, he would do it. Plus, Sherlock wasn't exactly a stranger to self-harming behaviors. When had it ever stopped him doing something just because it was unhealthy or unsafe?

John finished his drink as Sherlock finished off the last of the ice cream, carelessly tossing the carton into the floor where it hit the rug and dripped everywhere. At this point John didn't even care; noticing that Sherlock was sitting back on the couch with a relaxed expression he tried interrogating Sherlock again. "So, Sherlock. What happened to your hand there" he said nonchalantly.

"Scrapped it" Sherlock said rolling his eyes as if John had the intelligence of a dull child.

"Well, yeah I know that, but how did you scrap it?" John asked.

"I told you, silly John" Sherlock said in that weird happy voice he had used when he'd arrived home. " I fell"

"Yeah, but how?" John asked.

"Tripped on my shoestring" Sherlock said. "The music in that place was rather good and I just fell….."

John was beginning to piece it together. A smile was beginning to twitch at the corners of his mouth as Sherlock's disconnected sentence began to make sense in his mind. "Let me guess, you were dancing and tripped on your shoestring?"

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose" he said.

The image of Sherlock dancing in the bar, tripping and falling on his face was so funny to John in his slightly tipsy state that he began to laugh. It wasn't lost on Sherlock. "What's so funny?" he asked.

"Nothing…." John said, trying and failing to suppress the giggles. "I'm just trying to picture you dancing"

Sherlock seemed to take offense. "I'll have to know I'm a very good dancer" he said.

"Yeah, sure, Sherlock" John said in disbelief.

Sherlock's face fell for a second as he realized that he was being insulted; then, he got a wide smile on his face as he got up and began to dance around the living room. His moves were wide and sweeping, like ballroom dancing moves; they were actually good but the thing was so hilarious that John just couldn't stop laughing. He was feeling red in the face from laughing when Sherlock swept over towards John, grabbed him by the hands and pulled him up. As he realized as what Sherlock was trying to do, he said, "No way, Sherlock". He pulled his hands back towards himself; he wasn't drunk enough to dance with Sherlock.

"Oh come on, John" Sherlock said "The dance isn't really complete without a partner"

"Well, I am not your partner" John said, turning red. He felt a little unsteady on his feet as the alcohol was beginning to take hold of him again. He leaned back slightly as he felt a wave come over him.

Sherlock saw this sway and took advantage of it. "Sure you are" he said and grabbed John's hands, sweeping him across the floor. John tried to get away from Sherlock as he pulled him across the floor and move around but John felt that he was dizzy and every time he tried to pull away, he began to lose his balance. After a little while he gave up and just let Sherlock pull him around living room. After all, no one was here to see it and he had to admit it was a little bit fun. Oh, God, I need to lay off the alcohol!, he thought. At least one of the needed to be sane.

After a few minutes of twirling around the room, Sherlock came to an abrupt halt, causing John to smack into Sherlock's chest with strong force. He grunted as the force hit him. He realized in an awkward moment that he was about an inch away from Sherlock's face. He tried to pull away from Sherlock's hands but he held tight; what had seemed silly a second ago now seemed weird and John wanted to get away. Sherlock was fixing him with the strangest expression on his face. He wasn't smiling like he was a second ago. Now he was looking at John intently.

"Let go Sherlock" John said uncomfortably, trying to pull away from him. But he held firm.

"John…." Sherlock said, the look his face getting more and more intense.

"What, Sherlock?" John asked cautiously.

"John…" Sherlock said, more softly this time.

"What? I'm standing right here?" John asked. He wished Sherlock would just say whatever it was he was going to say. John felt himself begin to sweat and his stomach churn. It was a strange feeling and he didn't care for it. "Just spit it out Sherlock!"

But John came to regret saying that; for just a second later Sherlock did spit it out. And "it" turned out to be all of the ice cream that he had eaten earlier, all down his front, and thanks to not letting go of John, all down his front as well.

This was going to be a long night…..

Seems like John has got his hands full! though that might turn out to not be a bad thing ;) Let me know what you all think! Reviews are greatly appreciated!