Sherlock stepped down into the kitchen; a stupid smile on his face, his hair a mess, and sheen of sweat still drying against his forehead.
"Sorry, I didn't realize anybody else was up." He said, upon hovering one foot on the bottom stair and getting ready to turn around and go back up to bed upon seeing Alex sitting at the breakfast table.
"I've been up nearly every night this week." He pushed the chair out across from him with his foot. "Stay."
Sherlock really didn't want to stay; one conversation with one person he didn't converse with on a daily basis (otherwise known as someone who wasn't John) had been enough, and he wasn't sure he could handle another one, but his stomach was growling, and he knew that if he didn't eat anything and let the alcohol from earlier eat away at his stomach acid he would likely be vomiting sometime in the very near future, so he opened the fridge and took out the plate John had been talking about, sat down in the offered chair and began to nibble away at the cold roast beef.
"I'm always hungry after a good orgasm too." Alex said when Sherlock was already on his second piece.
Sherlock stopped chewing for a moment and just stared at Alex in strange amusement. In the dim light of the moon coming in from the window next to them Alex looked like John. Earlier in the day his features had been similar to Harry's; Alex seemed to change between his two older siblings.
"Sorry- John and I grew up sharing a very thin wall; I couldn't help but hear before I finally came down here. Accidently listening to him and his girlfriends taught me almost everything I know about pleasing a woman."
"I'm sure John would be glad to know that."
"I don't think I could bring anything from tonight into bed with Julie though." Alex laughed; I'm sorry; just thinking out loud."
"It's fine; I do it often." He said with a small smile.
Silence settled between them and Sherlock was finding that if he didn't look at Alex then he could ignore the fact that he was still sitting there with him.
But soon the silence was broken.
"I haven't been able to sleep lately." Alex started
"Cold feet or whatever that is?"
"The thing is" Alex started, not really paying attention to Sherlock, and looking passed his shoulders into the darkness of the kitchen.
"I was never expected, I wasn't part of their plan, and that always kind of worked out in my favor. Harry and John being who they are worked in my favor too. There was nothing I could do to screw up worse than Harry, and John was already the absolute perfect son that they wanted, so I just did my thing, and never gave a second though to being more settled than I was.
"Then, John got divorced. My parents' pride faltered just a little, but it didn't break. He was still a doctor, still a soldier, still handsome. Then, John got shot- hardly his fault, but he didn't recover the way my parents had hoped he would. He was depressed, he had the limp; he didn't want to go back to work and he couldn't go back to war. He was no longer the great things, the great son he was before."
But John was great. In spite of all those things Alex had just said, because of all those things, Sherlock was certain that he had never met anyone as great, as wonderful, as perfect as John Watson currently was.
"So," Sherlock interrupted, "With John no longer t fulfill their parental need for a perfect son, and Harry being an alcoholic whose homosexual marriage didn't work out, the burden fell on you to pick up all of the pieces."
Alex nodded. Sherlock continued.
"You went to law school, settled down in once place instead of bouncing around from one friend's sofa to another's. You didn't settle in London of course, because that's where John was, ruining what was left of his sad, pathetic life, and then you met Julie, and she was pretty, and smart, and she was kind- she was also the last step in replacing your life with John's previous one."
Alex took a long sip of his glass of orange juice before he returned to the conversation.
"I love Julie. I'm very glad to be marrying her, but I can't help but think that if John's life hadn't taken the course that it did; if things had gone differently for him then perhaps mine would have as well. Whether that would have been better or not, I don't know."
"We never really know where we we are going until we end up there." Sherlock mused, and then took a long drink from his water glass, as if trying to wash the sentiment away off from his tongue.
"You know," Alex started after a moment of quiet, "John taught me everything I know about women; how to bait them, hook them and then eventually let them go, but he never taught me how to love- not until you. And I know that if I can love Julie even the smallest fraction of how much John loves you, then we'll be okay."
"You'll be more than okay if Julie can manage to love you even the smallest fraction of how much I love John."
Sherlock pushed his chair away from the table, stood and made his way back to the bedroom where he had left John earlier. John was asleep, his stomach pressed against the mattress, his limbs sprawled over both sides of the impossibly small bed. Sherlock didn't want to disturb him, but he didn't want to be far from him either, so he laid one of the extra blankets on the floor next to the bed, and laid down on it. He reached his hand up to John's, and fell asleep running his thumb across John's knuckles.
Sherlock could see the edge on John's face; the way his head nodded of to the left as he answered questions, held conversations. The way his smile never quite reached his eyes, never caused the crinkles that Sherlock loved so much in the corners.
"You should wear a tuxedo all the time." Sherlock said through a dangerous smile.
"To crime scenes even?"
"Everywhere except bed."
John laughed, and took the nearly empty wine glass Sherlock was holding in the hand not around John's waist.
"How many of these have you had?"
"Five."
"Maybe that's enough?"
Sherlock took the glass back and finished the last three ships all in one go.
"You said you wanted me to relax and have a good time. It's not my fault of that takes a couple of bottles of wine."
Ahh, there they were; the crinkles, and better that, there was the sparkle in his irises. Sherlock bent his head down and set his lips on John's.
"I love you." He said when he slowly parted them again, smiling the tiniest smile as he watched John's face visibly try to follow his own to bring their lips back together again.
"You know, I think I'm liking this side of you."
"Better than my usual side?"
"Oh God no. Snarky, egotistical, insufferable, rude, lazy Sherlock will always be my favorite."
"I am not lazy. I just don't see the need to exert energy for mundane situations when it could be saved for other useful purposes."
"Like chasing criminals?"
"Like making love to you- over and over again."
"Oh." John kissed Sherlock on the cheek, "Perhaps that can be arranged once dinner is over." He whispered into Sherlock's ear.
"And miss the dancing?"
Sherlock slid his grip down to John's wrist and without warning pushed him away from his body, and pulled him back in just as quickly when the tension from the movement threatened to break them apart.
John laughed when his back bounced against Sherlock's chest, and bent his head back, "We can wait until after the dancing I suppose."
"Thank you John."
"Anything for you Sherlock."
John tipped his head up, nudging Sherlock's chin with his own until Sherlock took the hint and gave John a small kiss.