Hello everybody!

I don't really have anything to say right now...feels weird...I'll just let you get on with the story, I know people were a bit excited (?) to see what happens next.

Warning: durgs, alcohol, sexual references (no actual sex though)

Was he supposed to be enjoying himself right now? Wasn't this every virginal teenager boy's fantasy? He had objectively attractive and very drunk girl straddling his lap, pressing disgustingly wet kisses to his neck, willing to do whatever foul thing he wished. Hell, she'd even started stripping off her dress and guiding his hands not so secretly to her breasts. Shouldn't he be aroused by now? But, frankly, Sherlock found this all very boring...and disturbing and terrifying and completely, utterly wrong.

He had absolutely no idea what he was doing. How was he supposed to get her off him? He didn't want this anymore. He thought that maybe refusing to reciprocate would turn her off, but she was absolutely relentless in her oral assault on his neck, nipping and sucking his skin. It was no use, she couldn't possibly be stopped. Whenever he tired to pull away or push her off, she would tug him back by the front of his shirt, already having unbuttoned several buttons. What was he supposed to do? Should he keep fighting her, or should he just go with it? His foggy brain was having none of the decision making, he felt like he couldn't think see straight, let alone make an important decision. Every time he wanted to move, his limbs just wouldn't cooperate right. He felt paralyzed. So he didn't, couldn't, make a decision and, leaning closer, closed his eyes. He just went with whatever was going on, following the still unnamed female's lead as she deepened their kisses, grazing her teeth against his bottom lip as her slim fingers snaked under his untucked shirt and danced dangerously close to his zip. Maybe some dullard would burst into the room and shock them apart before her hands roamed any further. He really didn't want this to happen. He...he wasn't ready for this! But he couldn't do anything. Hopefully, he thought to himself with furrowed brow as the kiss grew and grew in ferocity...

John scanned the room worriedly. Where was in God's name was Sherlock? His friend was always easy enough to spot, his pale skin practically glowing out in the darkness. John had expected to find him sitting in the corner, drinking and absorbed in his phone, ignoring everyone. But that didn't seem to be the case. He wasn't on any of the couches, he wasn't in the kitchen. He'd even checked outside, despite the bitter cold. Sherlock was nowhere to be found. John felt like he'd just left for an hour, max, just enough time to have a drink or two and catch up with some old friends. John hadn't seen his friend in hours and he was really starting to freak out. By now Sherlock was probably drunk, maybe even high (he really didn't even want to think about that possibility). He never ever should have brought him here, it was a bad idea from the start. What if he was wandering the neighborhood drunk? What if he got arrested? What if he got hit by a car? Oh, this never should have happened in the first place! John should have never let the git out of his sight. Hell, he shouldn't have brought Sherlock here, too many bad influences, too many risks. He was starting to get frantic, searching the rooms over and over again to no avail. He still couldn't find him.

"Oi, Alec!" he shouted across the room at one of the few people in the packed house who would be able to recognize Sherlock. Please let him know, please let him know...

"Have you seen Sherlock?" John questioned, leaning in to speak over the din of music and voices. All he got in return was a wicked grin and wiggling eyebrows.

"What's that s'pposed to mean?"

"Well, Johnny-boy," Alec slurred, threading an arm around his shoulder, "I just saw your little buddy headin upstairs with Nikki, if'ya know what I mean."

John groaned out loud. God no, the one thing he hadn't even thought to consider. Sherlock was with a girl, and not just any girl. John remembered Nikki pretty clearly, it was hard not to when one had such a big personality. She was ,well, a bit on the promiscuous side to put it lightly. Basically she'd have sex with anyone that payed her a moment of attention. Crap, John had to get him out of there and fast. Sherlock was probably drunk off his mind, and he knew Sherlock would regret this if something happened. Nobody's first time should be with a girl like that. No offense meant, but still...

John dashed up the stairs quickly, pushing past those draped across the banisters. He made it to the hallway, cracking open door after door, looking. Sometimes he'd practically barge in one some other couple making out, and he'd have the dignity to blush scarlet before stammering his apologies. Finally, reaching the last door at the end of the hallway, John prayed silently that he'd find Sherlock in there, hopefully not in too compromising a position.

And find Sherlock he did, in the midst of a messy, awkward kiss with his shirt unbuttoned and his fly unzipped, his baggy black boxers fisted tightly in Nikki's hands as her slim fingers thumbed at the elastic edge. Seriously! His entrance didn't even seem to phase the two, and they kept going at it...though Nikki seemed a hell of a lot more dominant. He cleared his throat quite loudly, and that thankfully seemed to be enough. She shot back, hands flying from Sherlock as his eyes widened.

"Ohhh...s'just you Johnny," she giggled as she practically tipped over on the mattress, "You wan't a turn with him? He's pret-ty goooood if I do say so m'self!"

"Uh...think I could just talk to him for a sec?" John asked, staring point blank at Sherlock who refused to meet his eyes as his haphazardly buttoned his shirt with shaking fingers.

"Sure thing," she slurred, clapping John on the shoulder as she wobbled out of the room on unsteady high heels.

"And see ya later Sherls!" she called over her shoulder.

John sighed and sank down on the mattress next to Sherlock, "You alright?"

Sherlock simply raised his head, revealing glassy eyes with painfully dilated pupils, and shook it, looking confused and scared and like he was about to cry.

John's heart tightened, and he pulled Sherlock in for a hug, asking if he wanted to go now. Sherlock tried to answer, but just ended up nodding instead when the words didn't come.

This was a bit not good.

That felt strange to write...I've never done that before. Well...tell me what you think!

Reviews are a wonderful things, they make me want to write more.

P.S. WAIT I THOUGHT OF SOMETHING. I found a headcanon. It's a headcanon I really, really want to write a story on. I am so conflicted! Argh!