A/N - Long-time no see, I hope you all had a good Christmas and a wonderful new year! This was meant to be up a long, long time ago. But my laptop decided it needed to reset, and me being an idiot didn't bother to back it up. Meaning the chapters I'd already worked on were, well, deleted. And I couldn't work up the will-power to write them again. But I am back, and plan to update more regularly. Right, I'll shut up now. Onwards. Thank you for waiting, reviewing, and the favourites/followings. I'd glad you're enjoying it as much as I'm enjoying writing it! This is going to be a long chapter to make up for the whole missing 700 years of updating. (Ok, maybe that was an exaggeration, but shush)

/ /

Sherlock waited for at least 10 minutes until he began pacing the length of his bedroom, glad for the fact he didn't have to bare living with anyone. Because, well, he would've been told to shutup a long time ago.

An hour later he began to panic, what if John had set him up? What if John had just wanted him to admit he was gay so he could tell everyone? Just to result in him getting bullied more than he already was.

No, John was most definitely not like that. John was honest, John was caring, and he always tried to help anyone in any way he could.

He flopped down onto his bed with a groan; all of his thoughts were corrupted by John. He couldn't think straight, needed to get John out of his head. But those impossible blue eyes, that smile… He just couldn't think of anything else.

He ran through their earlier conversation, their texts. God, John was attracted to men. He'd admitted it; he still had the text to prove it. He'd always wanted to know, he'd always assumed him to be straight. But, no. He was wrong, completely and utterly wrong for probably the first time in his life.

He tried to sleep, just to stop thinking. But he couldn't he lay there for an hour with his eyes shut, but sleep refused to come. He huffed and looked up at the stark white ceiling. John still hadn't texted back, must've fallen asleep. He resisted the urge to text him multiple times, he didn't want to come across as a stalker.

John Bloody Watson did this to him night after night, tonight being no exception. Although this time it was a lot worse, because they'd actually had a conversation. And then of course the vital detail of his sexuality. John would probably never dare speak to him if he knew what he was about to do.

He clumsily undid the button and zip of his trousers, his button very almost being completely ripped off. And pulled his underwear down slightly, his cock being freed from the ridiculously tight trousers he insisted on wearing.

He had done this more than enough to know exactly what he likes, his thoughts always revolving around one person. The amount of fantasies he had about John was bordering on ridiculous.

He let out a soft groan as he wrapped his hand around his cock, his imagination telling him it was actually John's hand, he flicked his thumb over the tip precome already leaking from it. Substitute for lube which he had to intention of getting up to get. His strokes started off soft and slow, teasing himself almost. Soft moans escaping from his lips and he moved his hand faster, his back arching up off the bed. He pulled hard on his cock, tightening his grip, adding pressure to his touch, as his member throbbed in his hand. It wouldn't take long now, just a few more hard strokes, a few more thoughts of John.

He came with a loud scream of John's name, his hand still moving as he milked as much as he could from his orgasm. Again glad that he lived alone, if anyone walked in on him like this it would be awkward to say the least. His come all over his hand, covering part of his trousers. He groaned, and flopped an arm over his face. He felt dirty, he'd just masturbated over someone who was completely unaware.

He moved off the bed, walking to the bathroom stripping off his clothes and climbing into the shower. Groaning as the hot water cascaded down his back, washing away the filth.

/ /

When John woke up it was around 9am, he was glad he had no lectures today or else he would've already been extremely late.

He stretched, and grabbed his phone from the side. After remembering he'd fell asleep in the middle of his and Sherlock's conversation.

He didn't know what he was expecting, maybe a few texts to ask why he'd suddenly stopped. He only one though, part of him thinking maybe it wasn't even Sherlock. Maybe he'd gotten bored of him already.

He went to his inbox, his smile reappearing when he read the name. It was Sherlock. He opened it, eyes widening as he read.

Fancy a drink sometime? –JW

It was a bit vague considering he spent near enough all of his time in the bar, but he'd hope Sherlock would get the message.

/ /

Sherlock had been sitting cross legged on his bed since 7am, anxious as fuck he'd even resorted to going out to an all-night convenience store and buying a packet of cigarettes just to calm his nerves. The habit could usually wait, but this time it was needed. He very almost knocked himself out on the bedside table as he dived to get his phone. Ready to throw it out the window if it was anyone but John. It was 9 am, he'd had more than enough sleep.

Luckily it was John, so his phone was safe. The message could have two meanings.

Come out for a drink with me.

Would you like to come for a drink with me and the bunch of idiots I chose to spend my time with AKA John's friends.

/

It took him a bit of courage to text back, not wanting to sound too eager. Not wanting to make it obvious that he'd been sitting next to his practically all night waiting for a response.

With? –SH

Me you idiot. –JW

Just you? –SH

No, me and my mum. –JW

John, I do hope that was sarcasm. If not, I'll have to pass you up on the offer. –SH

Of course it was sarcasm; now just answer the fucking question. –JW

Yes, I would very much like to go for a drink with you. –SH

See, was that really that difficult? –JW

Shutup or I'll change my mind. –SH

No you wouldn't. –JW

When? –SH

Whenever you want. –JW

Tonight? If you're free that is. –SH

Tonight is fine, I'll see you later. –JW

/ /

Sherlock had never been this nervous in his whole entire life, in fact he'd wasn't quite sure he'd actually ever been nervous up until this point. He was even concerned with what he'd chosen to wear. In the end he went with the usual attire, not wanting it to appear as though he'd made a huge effort. He tried to tame his unruly curls with his hand as he walked to John's flat to no avail. They'd arranged a time since they'd texted. 8pm. He was determined to get there at exactly that time, not a minute late.

The time he thought was quite cruel really, he basically had to wait all day. He'd almost managed to blow up his kitchen. He should probably stop trying to do that experiment, it had resulted in the same way the last time.

He walked up the stairs to John's flat, thinking this building should definitely have some sort of security. A buzzer or a key.

He checked his watch. 7:59pm. He watched the hand tick round until it hit exactly eight pm, and knocked on John's door.

John flung the door open, a grin on his face. His flatmates had already gone out an hour ago, so he could invite Sherlock in.

''Hey, you're certainly good at time keeping.'' He chuckled, glancing at the wall clock it was exactly 8pm. ''Come in.''

Sherlock hummed in agreement, and stepped inside the flat closing the door softly behind him. He'd always imagined what it would be like inside John Watsons flat. He was aware he had two flatmates. Sarah and Mike, so not everything inside would be his but it was still easy to identify his possessions.

John poked his head around his bedroom door, just to make sure Sherlock hadn't changed his mind and fled. To his relief he hadn't. ''There's beer in the fridge, take one if you want. I need to finish getting ready. Obviously not as good with time as you.'' He closed his bedroom door, and pulled on a fresh pair of jeans.

Sherlock did as he was told, and walked over to the fridge. Much different from his fridge, food instead of body parts. Odd. He took a beer, and located the bottle opener in the draw. He took a swig. Not his usual, but it would suffice.

John walked back out of the bedroom dressed, and ready. Flashing a smile in Sherlock's direction.

Sherlock gave a small smile in return, finishing the beer and leaving the bottle on the kitchen side. Not entirely sure why they were even going to a pub. John obviously had enough drink in the fridge, and if he was being completely honest he didn't really want to share him.

''Where to?'' John asked, shoving his keys and wallet in his back pocket.

Sherlock shrugged, and slid up onto the kitchen side. Hoping it was obvious he didn't wish to leave, well not just yet.

''Or…. We can both sit on the kitchen side. If that's what you'd prefer.'' He chuckled, walking over to his fridge and pulling out two beers. Glad he'd gone shopping earlier in the day. He passed one to Sherlock, the other for himself.

''Pub's boring, too loud.'' Sherlock smirked at getting his own way, he took the bottle opener from beside him opening his own. Wrapping his hand around the hand John was holding the beer with, and opening his also. He could've obviously quite given him the bottle opener, but there would be no fun in that.

John smiled at the small touch, and thanked him before drinking half of the beer in one go. ''So, Sherlock. Why have you never spoken to me before, you're practically in there everynight!''

Sherlock shrugged, and placed his bottle next to the already empty one. ''You're older, you already have a group of people surrounding you.'' Sherlock was already admitting more than he'd like to.

''I didn't have you down for being bothered about other people. I'm sure you could have quite easily caught my attention if you'd tried.'' Sherlock had already caught his attention, but he thought it better to leave out the whole 'I touch myself over you' part. He was sure he flushed even at the thought.

Sherlock traced the rim of the bottle absentmindedly, and glanced up. He noted John's colour, and chuckled. ''You're blushing.''

John pouted, and ducked his head to attempt to hide it. ''Shutup.''

''Why would I it's cu-'' Sherlock cut himself off, realising what he'd very almost said.

''It's what, Sherlock?'' John grinned, knowing just what the boy was going to say. ''Cute is it?'' He teased.

Now it was Sherlock's time the blush, his cheeks tinged with scarlet. Ducking his head. ''Yes, John. It's cute, would you like your ego stroked anymore?''

John chuckled, and lifted Sherlock's head. ''Sherlock, can I tell you something?'' The drink was already going to his head, well, he had already drunk five before Sherlock had arrived. Just to calm his nerves.

Sherlock leaned into the touch, and swallowed down the lump in his throat. ''Yes…'' He answered cautiously.

''I've noticed you before, I've noticed you a lot.'' His voice seemed to drop an octave as he was speaking.

''I-I.. Go on.'' Sherlock stuttered, desperate to hear what John had to say next.

''How could I not notice you? You're gorgeous, all flawless skin, and cheekbones.'' He purred, edging closer. Maybe getting drunk before they'd even gone out wasn't the best of ideas.

Sherlock was lost for words, none of his thoughts coherent, so he highly doubted his words were going to be. ''John…'' was all he managed to get out, his voice barely above a whisper.

He took that for confirmation, and well, the fact he wasn't pulling away was a good sign. He closed the gap between them, pressing his lips softly to Sherlock's.

/ /

I must admit I wanted to get this up as quickly as possible, so I didn't really read through it. So there will most likely be mistakes, that I will sort out a later date. I ended it at a horrible point, I know. MWAAAHAHA. I mean, I'll update as quickly as possible.