The memory of the night was already fuzzy for Sherlock, and he was still living it. He would have been perfectly happy to crawl into bed and sleep for ages, but after Mrs. Hudson told them they had only been out for a couple of hours, he saw on John’s face that he didn’t want the night to be over yet. So when he suggested they play a game upstairs, he could hardly refuse. It was his night, after all.

They laughed drunkenly together for a while with notes stuck to their foreheads, and Sherlock could tell that John was becoming increasingly relaxed and comfortable with him, maybe more than he’d ever been. He had a sense that John was trying to find his boundaries with Sherlock while he had a chance to hide behind the excuse of being drunk. But even Sherlock was surprised when he felt a hand resting on his leg for a moment that passed too quickly for them both.

"I don’t mind," John mumbled with a lazy smile. He kept his eyes on Sherlock, trying to judge his reaction; whether he’d gone too far and made him uncomfortable, but Sherlock looked as at ease as ever.

Sherlock was disappointed when the client showed up and interrupted their night together. He knew they were too drunk to work, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to show off his cleverness for John. If he had known how disasterously it would turn out, he would have just stayed home.

Sherlock had been embarrassed at first that he had been sick in front of everyone, but having John help him home and into the bathroom to get cleaned up had been quite nice. He could tell that John was sobering up, but Sherlock still felt as fuzzy and drunk as before. He sat on the floor of the bathroom, too tired to move.

"You’ve got to get up, Sherlock," John said, leaning over the shower to turn it on. "You need to get cleaned up so we can get you in bed. I'm exhuasted."

"I’m sorry, John. Tonight was supposed to be fun and I’ve ruined it. You shouldn’t have to be taking care of me like this," Sherlock said, trying to shake his coat off his shoulders.

"No, don’t. You haven’t ruined anything." Sherlock felt John squat down in front of him and lay a hand on his knee like he had before, this time letting it rest there. They sat in silence for a moment, guessing at what the other was thinking.

Sherlock was too tired and drunk to hide any longer. He looked to the floor and gently covered John’s hand with his own. He sat frozen, unsure of how John would react. He had wanted to tell him for so long how he felt, and tonight, with the haze of the alcohol giving him courage, he knew he could show him exactly how much he meant to him, if John would only let him.

He looked up slowly and met John’s eyes. His face was tight, like he was too scared or shocked to do anything else and for a moment Sherlock thought he had made a terrible mistake. He quickly tried to formulate a way to take it back, but before any words came out, John exhaled deeply, his face relaxing as he leaned forward and touched his forehead gently to Sherlock’s.

He closed his eyes and shook his head ever so slightly. "Sherlock Holmes," he said softly, almost a whisper. And with that, he moved his hand to the back of Sherlock’s neck and pulled him forward until their lips fit together in a soft and deep kiss that grew in intensity until they were both on their knees, clinging to each other tightly in an effort to get as close to the other as possible. Sherlock pressed his hands flat against John's back so he could feel as much of him as he could. His heart beat faster in his chest when he felt John fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

They pulled at each others clothes gently but frantically until they were nothing but a pile on the floor, and John lead Sherlock into the shower without ever leaving their embrace. Sherlock couldn't believe this was happening. He had wanted this for so long and he had never felt so whole as he had in this moment. He let himself get lost in John's kiss and the touch of his hands. He knew that John might regret this tomorrow, but he didn't want that thought to stop him from living in this moment fully. Had he had the strength to pull away from John only slightly, he would have told him that no matter what the morning brought, he would always love him.

In the distance, Sherlock heard shouting. It confused him, but nothing in this world could have torn them away from each other. He clung to John as tightly as he could, and began to panic when he realized what was happening. He did everything he could to stay with John for as long as possible, but in a moment he was sitting straight up on a cot in a jail cell, disoriented. He looked around as realization hit him and as he got to his feet, hoped with everything he had that he hadn't been talking in his sleep...