"No John. Roll over. Your shoulder will hurt you tomorrow"

"Nou. I wanna see ya face when ya sleep"

"John, it's 'no', 'want' and 'you' not 'wanna' or 'ya'-"

"Who cares"

"I do care, now roll over and sleep. You'll thank me tomorrow"

That night, John arrived feeling himself a bit tipsy. But Sherlock told him he was highly drunk. And then both friends argued until the thin but strong detective carried him to his bed and somehow managed to get him into bed and cover his cold body with his dark, soft and warm duvet. The doctor, happily acting under powers of alcohol started to calculate Sherlock's dark curls. And the detective tried his best to keep his friend's hands from his hair. He didn't want to handcuff him, certainly it was going to keep John quiet and calm for a bit, but it also meant it was going to hurt John's shoulders like hell the following morning.

"Stop it, John!"

"But your hair is so soft!"

John wasn't going to stop any time soon, so he let him. Sooner or later he was going to fall asleep.

Or that's what he thought, because John didn't close his eyes until three in the morning.

The following morning...

"Wake up John"

Nothing.

"John"

Nothing.

"John!"

Nothing.

"John, the Afghans are invading Baker Street!" Nothing.

He threw some water over John's face and the poor man jumped on his place of the bed, hitting Sherlock once their foreheads crashed together.

"Jawn!"

"What? What happened? What did you do to me?"

"Me? I didn't do anything to you! You came here late yesterday night under the powers of alcohol. You met your friends from the Army and went to the local pub close to surgery. You had from what I can calculate five to seven pints of beer and you ate several of those peanuts I told you not to eat! they have several germs and-"

The blonde pushed Sherlock and ran to his bathroom, which was closer thank you very much. A long and relieved sigh could be heard along with John's audible wee. The detective followed his friend to the loo, and maybe because he had a strong hangover John didn't care his friend's presence behind his back.

"Correction, nine to eleven pints of beer"