Chapter 3:

The music was loud from where I stood on the street outside of Charlie's house. I felt bad for the people inside who must definitely be deaf by now but they were probably too pissed to notice, either way. I sighed and walked to the front door, slightly nervous even though these people were my friends. Well, kind of.

The door opened before I could actually knock and there stood Charlie, grinning like a fool with a beer in his hand. He completely reeked of alcohol and he was actually swaying.

"John!" He yelled over the music, his speech slurred. "You are four hours fucking late! What the hell?"

"Sorry, Charlie." I responded, laughing. "I got a little distracted."

"Well, damn, I hope you was with a girl. That would be a good excuse, you fucker."

"Shut up and let me in, you cock." I laughed, shoving past him as he threw his arm around my shoulders and guffawed in my ear.

Not even five minutes in and I was burning up. All those people and the dancing and the drinking made it feel like hell. Nevertheless, when people would offer me a drink, I sure as hell didn't turn it down. After a few more hours, the bottle of vodka became my best friend.

"John! John! J-J-Johahahahahoonn!" Someone called from across the room. I was sitting down on the floor playing a drinking game with a few other people and giggling my ass off. I looked up and saw Charlie dragging some guy over to me and shoved him in front of me.

"This is my roommate, Greg! Greggy, say hiiiiiii!" Charlie laughed, barely able to finish his sentence. I think he was high, to be honest.

"Hey, John." Greg smiled softly. He was calm and quiet, so I assume he wasn't drunk like the rest of us fuckers.

"Heeyyy!" I smiled, leaning to my left a little for some odd reason. "Wa-Wazzup?" I laughed.

"Oi, Greg, John's been here for HOURS!" Charlie shouted. "I…I think…"he giggled. "I think you should take him home, you designated twat."

"You flatter me, Charlie." Greg punched him in the arm, but I could see a smile on his face…..I think. "Let's go, John."

"O-okay." I hiccupped, smiling. I don't know what was going on, but I swear to God I had just gotten here. As I stood up and wobbled around, trying to regain my balance, I realized how drunk I was. Everything was warped and colorful….or maybe that was just the lights….wait, when did lights appear?

The next thing I knew, I woke up in a strange car that smelled of cigarettes and cologne. I panicked, sitting up straight and looking around wildly, but my head throbbed and I winced.

"Woah, John, take it easy!" A familiar voice said to me. "You okay, mate?"

I forced my eyes open, despite the painful glare of light, and looked for the source of the voice. I saw a tall man, standing outside of the window, with two coffees in his hand. Well, at least, I assumed they were coffee, going by the smell. He also had brown hair seemed okay, but people these days were crazy and you could never trust them. Like that serial killer cabbie that they arrested a few weeks ago. That was something.

"Umm..."I shook my head, trying to clear it of random serial killer thoughts. "Um…wh-who are you?"

"I'm Charlie's friend, remember? Greg? Ah, you probably don't, seeing as you were pissed beyond life last night." His voice was loud to my drunk ears and I grimaced.

"Do you think you could talk quieter, please?" I asked.

"NOT REALLY!" He shouted, happier than he should've been. I groaned and rubbed my head.

"Sick fucker. Where am I, anyway, Greg?"

"We're in front of your flat. You refused to get out of my car, so I've stayed here all night because of you."

"Sorry."

" S'okay. Here." He handed me a coffee.

I took it happily and drank a sip, fighting the urge to grimace when it hit me. This is why I preferred tea. Coffee was so bitter. It was gross. I put it to the side, pretending I liked it, although I could tell by his face that he didn't believe me, and that he didn't care.

"So, Greg, you have a last name?" I asked.

"Lestrade. What about you, John?"

"Watson."

"That's a weird name."

"So is Lestrade." Greg smiled and shook his head, opening the car door. "John," He said. "you and I are going to be good friends." He laughed loudly.

I raised my eyebrows and climbed out rather stiffly and made my way up to my apartment, Greg following me for whatever reason, although he claimed it was because he didn't want me passing out and falling down the stairs. I ignored him, though. Despite his charm, I was very annoyed and I wasn't feeling all that chipper, either, if you could believe it.

When we got to my door, I turned to say bye and thank Greg but before I could say anything he raised his hand.

"Nice to meet you, John Watson." I grabbed his hand.

"Same to you, Greg Lestrade. Thanks for taking me home and letting me sleep in your car."

"Whatever, mate. No big deal. See you later, yeah?"

"Sure."

"Oh, I'll be busy all day, so I'm having a friend bring over the things you left at Charlie's party and a few things to help you feel better. Trust me, nothing cures a hangover like my special blend of coffee, mate. Nothin'." He smiled, waving as he took off.

"Alright…I-I guess." I stammered. "Wait! What did I leave at Charlie's flat?"

"Lots of things, actually. Your watch, your wallet, your shoes, and your phone."

"All of that shit? You've got to be fucking kidding me! Did anyone take anything?"

"Naw, mate, you're good. I kept it safe while we were there, on behalf of Charlie. I guess he knew that you'd be trashed, huh?"

"I guess." I agreed, darkly. Damn Charlie. Damn him to the worst fucking place in hell.

"See ya, Greg." I sad as I turned around.

"See ya, John."

When I got inside, I took a long, hot shower and popped some pain-killers in and sat down in front of the telly, relishing the fact that I had no classes today. I watched some re-runs of old shows I used to watch as a kid growing up with Harry before I fell asleep in my chair.

Unfortunately, I didn't sleep long before a loud knock sounded on my door, startling me awake. I looked at my clock, since I had left my watch and phone at Charlie's flat, and saw that an hour had already gone by. This must be Greg's friend, then.

Grumbling, I got up from my chair and swiped a hand over my face, as if trying to wipe away the look of exhaustion and disappointment in myself at drinking. Don't get me wrong, I'm nothing like a prude, but I didn't want to end up like my father and like Harry.

I answered the door and my eyes were face to chest with a tall man at the door. The shirt was a white button up shirt with a black hoodie covering it on both sides. I looked down and saw a pair of black Vans and a pair of faded jeans, but they seemed a little tighter than necessary.

"John, please don't stand there all day." A deep, smooth voice said to me. I looked up and saw a mop of black, curly hair and sharp, blue eyes.

"You?" I questioned. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"Obviously, I'm here to drop off your things. I believe Greg mentioned I would be coming by."

"YOU'RE the friend Greg was talking about?"

"Obviously." He sniffed. "Well?"

"Oh! Uh, sorry….Sherlock, was it?" I asked, trying to remember his name. This was definitely the same bloke from the store, the one who had bought the fish eyes.

"I'm impressed you actually remember my name, John." He sounded condescending, but I didn't really care.

"Sorry, I'm a bit out of it today, as I guess you probably already know. You wanna come inside, then?"

"If you insist."