"I had sex last night."
John's therapist, Miss Hartman, adjusted her tight chiffon and cocked an eyebrow, "Really? May I ask what prompted this?"
John shrugged, picking at a loose fingernail, "I don't know really. I was drunk and he was there. End of story."
Miss Hartman frowned and scribbled a note onto her yellow legal pad, "You were drunk?"
John winced internally, he had not meant to tell her that, she worried enough about him already, "Yes. We drank together, not that much though."
His therapist wrote 'still lying about alcoholism' down on her pad. John had become accustomed to reading her writing upside down and he found that it made him trust her less.
"So." He said, trying to change the subject, "How was your day?"
Miss Hartman sighed, seeing through his ruse, "John, I think we need to talk about this more. What made you change your mind? You told me you were never having a relationship again."
John could feel ire rising in his gut, not something he wanted to happen, "It wasn't a relationship, it was just sex. It's not important."
The therapist leveled her eyes at him, "John, you went through something terrible. Using sex and alcohol to drown it out is harming you more than it is helping you. I need you to see that."
John glanced at the floor, silent. He didn't want to discuss this, he didn't even know why he'd brought it up in the first place, but he felt a need to tell someone. A need to be heard. Maybe this was a cry for help.
"H- She wasn't important to me, I'm not going to do it again, and that's it." He said bluntly, sighing with relief as the clock chimed one. It was time for him to leave. He said his goodbyes and went out the door gratefully.
John stopped by the local Tesco's for groceries, picking out the essentials and paying for them with his worn credit card. He had to carry the plastic bags full of milk and bread the five blocks back to his apartment. When he got there, Sebastian was sitting outside the door of Mrs. Hudson's row of flats, a cigarette dangling from his full lips and a melancholy expression on his face. John set his groceries down on the doorstep and sat next to the scarred man.
"What are you doing here, Sebastian?"
Sebastian shrugged and took the cigarette between his fingers, blowing out a column of smoke, "Dunno. Just kind of went walking and ended up here."
John folded his hands in his lap, "We're not doing that again, just so you know. It was a bad idea in the first place. No attachments."
Sebastian nodded, stubbing out the cigarette on the concrete step and tossing the remaining part into the bushes, "Alright."
He stood, his long coat swaying as he did, and began walking away. John stared after him, watching the billowing coat and remembering a similar coat.
"Wait. Do you want a drink?"
Sebastian stopped dead in his tracks and John could see his head tilt in confusion. The elongated silence drew into awkwardness until John added, "Unless you don't want to, of course."
Sebastian turned and strode back to where John stood tapping his foot anxiously. He hadn't felt so insecure since his first date with Sherlock.
"Are you sure?" Sebastian asked, his eyes searching John's for any sign of hesitation, "What happened to 'no attachments'?"
John crossed his arms, "I don't know. Maybe an attachment is what I need."
Mrs. Hudson prepared them two cups of black tea dosed with brandy. John's eyes didn't even water as he downed the cup in one gulp, he was too used to the sting and burn of liquor traveling down his throat. He knew Mrs. Hudson would not be the one to refill his glass, she had already been in touch with his therapist about his drinking as well as Lestrade. They had been the ones that had jointly paid off every bar in London to not serve him.
John knew that he had a problem, but it would take a whole hell of a lot to convince him to admit it to anyone else. His drinking hadn't even been this bad directly after he got back from the war. Sherlock had broken him in ways he had never been broken in before.
Sebastian took small sips, savoring the bitter taste. His eyes wandered over John's figure, reminiscing the events and sights of the night before. Pale skin glimmering in the moonlight, silver hair underneath his fingertips, head tilted back in pleasure, blue eyes flashing. All of this ran through his mind's eye, causing him to grin slightly.
"What's so funny?" John asked, if a little gruffly.
Sebastian shook his head, "Nothing. Just…thinking."
"About…?" John prompted, refilling his cup from the teapot and walking over to the kitchen counter for the brandy. He poured a generous amount inside the teacup and went back to his chair, placing the small China cup on the carven side table.
Sebastian shrugged, "About last night." His eyes avoided John's, showing his insecurity was as high as John's.
John nodded, picking his cup off of the saucer, "Was it good?"
"Yes." Sebastian replied quickly, "I mean…not like it was with, well… but…" He stopped speaking and buried his face into his cup. John could tell that blushing didn't come naturally to the sniper, but his cheeks were dusted a light pink right then.
John could feel awkwardness descending once more, so he tapped his foot and said, "So… What happens now?"
Sebastian shrugged again, a gesture he seemed to be fond of, "I don't know. Do we part ways? Do you want to?"
John had to think about it. He wasn't over Sherlock, not by a long shot, but maybe this could help him move on.
Finally the doctor made his decision, "If we're going to do this, I want to do it properly. Let's go on a date."