Prompt - John finally gets revenge for Sherlock drugging his drink.

This was not a place that John Watson wanted to be. It wasn't his 'scene' at all. If anything he'd normally avoid this neighbourhood altogether. He had to find somebody though. Somebody that could help him. Looking around he saw nobody. Then again he was in an underpass in a pretty deserted area. That's when he heard it. The tip tapping sound of footprints. He turned around and sure enough he was there. The man John had come to meet. His face was covered by his hood and he stood with a slouch.

"You John?" The man called out.

"Yes, have you got what I asked for?"

"You got the money?"

Reaching into his pocket John bought out the fifty pounds he had been hiding. It seemed a little much but it would be worth it. "All of it right here."

The man got closer to John, grabbed the money and began to inspect it. The act made John want to laugh. For a man pushing drugs he had some safety checks on fake money. "Alright. You never got it from me, yeah? If she talks."

"I'm not using it on a woman." The man stepped back momentarily, eyeing up John.

"I didn't take you for a… well-"

"Oh lord no!" John blurted out. "It's for a friend. Pay back."

The man didn't seem impressed by this but all the same he bought out a little bottle of clear liquid. He handed it over to John, who thanked him, pocketed the money and then began to walk back the way he had came. "You never got it from me?"

"Never got it from you." And with that the man left, leaving John to look at the small bottle he had just purchased. All that for fifty quid. Seemed pointless until he remembered the purpose. He couldn't wait to use it.

John, of course, knew the dangers of GHB and that's why he had only bought the small amount he had. Not a lethal dose, he was sure. Especially not enough to make someone sick. He'd seen a fair bit of this drug working as a doctor. Innocent young girls, and sometimes men, found themselves victim to it. It made him sick how easy it was to get hold of and he would remember to pass a note on to Lestrade. Anonymously of course. Telling Lestrade he had bought a date rape drug would cause no end of questions. Ones he didn't want to answer.

He decided to walk home. It wasn't far. Ten minutes at the most. This gave him time to think his plan to drug Sherlock through. They had no cases that day as far as John knew so the evening would go by as it usually did. He had already decided how to administer the drug. He'd slip it into Sherlock's tea then wait for the effects to take place. That would teach the bugger for drugging him whilst they were on the Baskerville case. John hadn't lived that memory down yet. Forced to cower in a cage whilst Sherlock pretended to be the hound over the loud speaker. All for some bloody experiment. One that didn't work out how Sherlock had wanted anyway. It wasn't in the bloody sugar at all. Well, John was conducting his own experiment now.

Soon as he got home, he climbed the stairs to 221B and walked through the door to find Sherlock exactly where he had left him. Lying down on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. None of the walls seemed damaged, any more than they already had been, and there was no scattered papers. Perfect. No cases. No mess. John slid off his jacket and threw it over his chair before moving into the kitchen. The little bottle still inside his trouser pocket. "I'm making tea, do you want one?"

"Yes." The reply called back as John retrieved two cups from the cupboard. Avoiding the one Sherlock had used in one of his recent experiments. He clicked the kettle on before taking out the bottle. He wondered if it was the wrong thing to do. Until he remembered the smug look on Sherlock's face when John had protested that he had indeed seen the hound. He forced off the lid and poured the colourless content into Sherlock's cup before adding the tea bag and sugar. When the kettle announced that it had finished boiling John poured in the water to both cups before going over to the fridge to get some milk. There was only a bit left but enough left for tea.

Once he had made the teas he took them into the living room, placing Sherlock's on the table beside the sofa. John then took his usual seat to watch Sherlock from. He hid his smirk behind his cup of tea as he saw Sherlock take a sip of his. He continued to do this until Sherlock had consumed all of his tea and all that was left for John to do was wait. He was impatient. Waiting to see the full force of his revenge but sadly it wouldn't happen that quickly. He needed to wait at least five minutes, if not ten, for it to work on Sherlock.

Out of the corner of his eye John saw Sherlock stand up and pick up his cup. He was walking towards the kitchen until he noticed that John's cup was also empty. He walked over to John's chair, leaned over to pick up the cup with his free hand and placed a kiss on top of John's forehead before he retreated into the kitchen. Leaving John in a state of shock. Had Sherlock really just kissed him? It couldn't be true. He had definitely given Sherlock the right cup. His tea had had no sugar in it. Best way to tell the difference. He didn't get long to freak out about Sherlock kissing his forehead as the detective had reappeared from the kitchen and positioned himself in his chair opposite John. "Thank you for the tea, John."

"Oh erm… no problem." The detective looked completely calm. Maybe he was just portraying one of the side effects, John reasoned. Seeing things that weren't there. Maybe he had seen something on John's head.

"Where did you go earlier?" Sherlock purred. He actually purred. Maybe this was a wrong idea. It was bad enough John had to try and keep his hands off the man on a usual day but on a day when the man was purring at him? Even John's will power couldn't be that strong.

"Oh," John struggled to think of an excuse, "I just went to buy some milk but the shop had ran out so I left it."

A playful smile danced on Sherlock's lips before standing up and going over to John's chair. Before he could protest anything Sherlock was dragging him over to the sofa. The man was freakishly strong for his lanky frame. Sherlock still had hold of John's hand as he dropped into the sofa. As John looked down he could see that Sherlock was staring at him with a questioning look. He was kind of worried. This wasn't Sherlock behaviour. Even if the man was drugged. He had seen Sherlock drugged before and this wasn't how he had reacted. The last time he had face planted the floor multiple times. Sherlock pulled John out of his memory by pulling him onto the sofa and holding him there in an embrace. John felt a little awkward with Sherlock's arms wrapped around his chest. Sherlock wasn't usually this hands on. It was abnormal. "Relax, John."

John shuffled. That was easier than said than done. He felt completely comfortable and yet something was nagging at him. Something in his head telling him this was all wrong. He didn't want to take advantage. "Sherlock."

"Hush." Sherlock nuzzled his head into John's neck, took a deep breath and let out a happy sigh. It sounded wonderful. Something John hadn't actually heard before. He was use to the shouts and the complaining. Even the quiet. Not this. He liked this. Time to enjoy it. No matter how long it could be. "Did you know that the human body really is a delicate thing, John? The slightest pressure point can be used to kill."

A hand slid up from John's chest and smoothed over the nape of his neck. John could feel the delicate fingers glide with ease. "You're acting delusional, Sherlock."

Sherlock tittered as if John's comment was absolutely preposterous. "Course you know that the slightest point could be used to kill but did you know that they could also be used to excite?"

The hand removed from John's neck and was soon replaced with the soft press of Sherlock's lips. It took all of John's will not to jump up. Sherlock continued to press kisses as John hummed quietly. It felt like bliss. John didn't want to stop him, he wanted to let Sherlock explore but something in his mind was now yelling at him. He had to say something. "Sherlock, stop."

"Shut up, John, and get up." Sherlock barked. John quickly obeyed. Straight after Sherlock was up and pulling him towards the upstairs bedroom. John had to watch his stepping as he rushed up the stairs to keep up. One wrong move and he would have tripped. Luckily he didn't. Sherlock slammed the door after John was finally in the room and stood against the door. He looked mesmerised. "There's just something tonight about… you."

Somehow he had managed to make his voice turn into silk and it melted in John's ears. It was almost criminal that he had been hiding that voice from him. John advanced forward until him and Sherlock were mere centimetres apart. The sweet combination of lavender and honey drifted into his nostrils.

"Sherlock." John's lips quivered, he could feel his whole body shaking. Sherlock reached out a hand and brushed his fingers along John's palm. John drew in a quick, shaky breath. He couldn't control himself much longer. Sherlock's scent, his presence, was too much.

"You're shaking, John." Sherlock licked his lips, his eyes were locked onto John's own. "I can fix that." Sherlock squeezed John's hand lightly and pulled him closer. His slow, calm movements both scared and excited John. Sherlock let go of John's hand and rested one hand on his belt and the other on John's hip.

John could feel Sherlock's solid presence and heat, and he knew he'd not be able to resist any longer. He took half a step forward, his thigh pushed against Sherlock's. He could feel himself blushing as Sherlock's hand ran down, over his hip and rested on his arse.

"Sher-" Sherlock cut off John with a soft kiss. His lips were delicate against John's. John was taken by surprise, but he pushed his body against Sherlock's and wrapped his arms around the skinny man. Sherlock's lips parted and his tongue slid into John's mouth. A welcome intrusion.

Sherlock pulled away from John slowly, his chest still caught in John's gentle embrace. He ran his hands up, over John's back and chest, before resting them at his collar. Sherlock leaned forwards and kissed John again. The soft brush of his lips made John smile. Sherlock's thin, long fingers trailed down John's chest, undoing all of the buttons that they met.

"Take it off." He whispered into John's ear. John shrugged the shirt off of his shoulders. He let go of Sherlock and pulled at his cuffs. Sherlock's hands were now resting around John's stomach and his lips were hovering near John's ear. John, now shirtless, stood perfectly still.

Sherlock stood back and began to look over John. His hands, which were still resting on John's stomach at this point, began to move their way over the skin. Beneath his finger tips Sherlock could feel the slightly toned muscles. John's skin wasn't exactly the smoothest however the texture felt pleasant. Slowly Sherlock began to move his way up John's torso, his hands working along each crease, feeling every muscle he could.

Reaching out Sherlock took John's right hand and brought it up to inspect. They were delicate and yet strong. With his profession he had to be careful with his hands and it certainly paid off. Turning his hand over, Sherlock studied the lines within John's palm with his own fingers. Some were darker than others but they formed an intriguing pattern. Sherlock soon found John's pulse. His fingers lingered as he felt the blood pumping through John's veins. The beat was fast.

Soon his fingers were working over John's right shoulder and along the collar bone. He could feel the bone sticking out at him. His hand trailed over the bone but soon came to an abrupt stop by the time he had reached the left shoulder. Sherlock stared at the uneven patch of skin. It was coloured different to the rest of John. As his fingers traced over it he felt the rough markings. It was hard to believe something so small could have caused so much pain. The happy buzz he felt seemed to subside momentarily. Something inside him didn't feel exactly right looking at that scar. Leaning down he pressed his lips to the skin. He could feel the rough parts against his lips. It wasn't like kissing John's lips at all.

Sherlock's lips pressed against John's skin. Over and over. His bent his knees and kissed John's skin. He was sinking to his knees, kissing along John's chest, down to his hips. His lips followed an invisible line that was only designed in Sherlock's head.

"Sherlock…" John muttered, guessing where Sherlock was aiming for. His hands went to his belt, covering it and stopping Sherlock from gaining access to his underwear. Sherlock's hands pulled John's away from the belt. He held both of John's wrists with one hand and quickly undid the belt with the other. Soon the rest of John's clothing was discarded in a heap near the abandoned shirt.

Sherlock reached down and began to stroke John's cock. He kissed John's hips; running his tongue over John's soft, flushed skin. He dragged his teeth across the skin, placing his teeth around John's protruding hipbone. He flicked his tongue back and forth, teasing John with a smile on his face. John muffled a moan as Sherlock bit him harder.

Sherlock kissed John's hips again and crawled off of John's body and, ignoring his own hard on, he placed his lips around John's head. With slow, gentle strokes Sherlock filled his mouth with more and more of John's member. He swirled his tongue around John's head as he sucked. He looked up at John and grinned as John bit his lip.

John sat up, leaning on his elbows and watched Sherlock's head bob up and down. He muffled a moan as Sherlock buried his nose in the wiry hair at the base of John's member. Sherlock took one hand and gently held John's balls. He smiled as John threw his head back.

"Sherlock…"

Sherlock said nothing, he only sped up the pace that he thrust John's cock into the back of his throat. John realised that he'd never had anyone as skilled as Sherlock; never had anyone made him feel like this before. Sherlock's hand kept John's balls warm and comfortable. The other hand was gripping the base of John's shaft with a firm, yet gentle, grasp. Sherlock's tongue was teasing and stimulating John's already hard member.

John felt himself getting closer to cumming. Sherlock's tongue seemed to know exactly where to go. He moaned as Sherlock massaged his balls, not stopping the rhythmic undulations of his head.

Sherlock smiled again, he teased the soft, sensitive skin on John's member, making a soft slurping sound as he tried to keep John on the brink. John stroked Sherlock's head, tangling his fingers in the man's hair.

Finally, John couldn't hold it any longer. He cried out , pushed Sherlock's head down on his cock, thrust his hips up and let three thick streams of cum fill Sherlock's throat.

"Sherlock…" John moaned, watching the man lick his lips and swallow what was left in his mouth. John pulled him up, so that they were face to face, and kissed him roughly.

He pushed his last remaining energy into it. Almost carried away by the bloody rushing to his head. By the time John pulled away he was breathless. His mind felt like it was swimming but he couldn't care less. He felt himself going limp causing Sherlock to support him up. "John," the voice whispered hoarsely into his ear. "Lie down."

Before he could explain what was happening John found himself on the bed. Sherlock soon directly beside him. His own clothing too now discarded. Struggling to keep his eyes open John slung his leg over Sherlock and wrapped his arm around the man's waist. Burying his face into Sherlock's shoulder he mumbled a soft apology before slowly falling off to sleep.

For the first night in months John slept peacefully. Without a single nightmare.

John awoke later than usual the next morning. The light pouring into his eyes caused his head to hurt slightly. As he rolled over in bed he discovered the other side to be empty. It was stone cold. Realisation flooded over John as memories of the night before finally seeped back into his mind. Sitting up he placed his head within his hands and began cursing at himself. Who knows how Sherlock must have felt when he had woken up? He dreaded to think. No wonder he was now alone in bed.

John barely noticed the creaking of the door as he cursed into his hands. He only looked up when a noise gesturing his attention echoed through the room. His glance was meet with that of Sherlock's. A fully clothed Sherlock, at that, armed with a cup of what John presumed was tea. "I know it is a Sunday, John, however I do believe ten o'clock in the morning is too late to still be in bed. Especially due to your usual routine."

Staring at Sherlock he saw no signs of difference in the man's gaze. He stood as he usually did. Did he even remember? Amnesia was a possible side effect of GHB. "Erm thanks," he replied sheepishly. Accepting the cup Sherlock was holding out for him. "Yeah. Sorry. Erm… Sherlock?"

"Yes, John?" Sherlock replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you remember anything from last night?"

"Obviously," he paused. John's breathing stopped momentarily. "You came back from the shops. Empty handed. Then made tea. After which you went to bed."

Crap. He didn't. John's mind was racing. Sherlock didn't remember. Not good. What was John going to say? Did Sherlock even remember waking up in John's bed with various limps thrown over him? "Oh. Right."

Placing his tea on the side John tried again to process the events. He had to tell Sherlock, didn't he? He couldn't forget it himself. How bloody well could he? "As much as it is amusing to watch you internally panic I feel as if I am over stepping some boundaries here by causing unnecessary stress or whatever human defect you'd like to call it." John's head shot up, staring at Sherlock. "I remember how you rudely fell asleep last night and how you used me as a personal body pillow. Did you know you move quite a bit in your sleep?"

John looked down. Sheepishly. So he did remember. "Sherlock, I-"

"Gamma-Hydroxybutyric acid? Really, John?" John gulped. How the hell did he know about the drug he had slipped him? "I'll give you some credit. No odour nor colour. Also liquid. Most go for the salt form." Sherlock paused, staring at John in the bed. John had absolutely no idea how he was going to explain this one. "Luckily I have built up an immunity to it."

"Wha-" John looked up again. Staring at Sherlock as if he could read his mind. "You mean you- You were in control of your actions the entire time and you didn't think to bloody tell me?"

"You looked like you were having such fun, John, and I didn't want to stop that."

Fun? Sort of an understatement but that didn't matter. John felt like he had been played again. If Sherlock was aware the whole time that meant that it wasn't the drug. Sherlock kissed him because he wanted to. Undressed him because he wanted it. John felt torn between happiness and somewhat betrayal. "You tricked me. Again!"

Sherlock chuckled. "Says the man who put a date rape drug into my tea. That is considered sacrilegious, John. Especially amongst the British. Ruining tea."

"How did yo-"

"How did I know you drugged me? Who did you think supplied you in the first place, John?" He smirked.

John replayed the memory in his head. It couldn't have been. That man was nowhere near Sherlock's height. He has slouched. Talked differently. "But that guy was-"

"Slouched? Not well spoken? Oh please, John. You know I dabble in acting." Sherlock rolled his eyes, stepping closer to the bed.

"You were playing me the entire time? You bastard!"

"You weren't saying that last night."

John paused. He has a point. "You owe me one."

"Actually, John, I believe it is you who owes me." John tried to recall what Sherlock meant yet failed. How could he possible owe Sherlock? The man had tricked him. Again. "I seem to recall you feel asleep rather early last night. Leaving me somewhat neglected."

It took him a second but John soon realised what Sherlock meant. Especially after seeing the sly grin plastered on the man's face. He had never seen that before. It looked so out of character. "How long have you? I mean I though you weren't interested in… well you know."

There was a slight pause. It looked like Sherlock was flipping through a mental calendar in his mind. "Five months two weeks and three days. Give or take a few hours either way. I never said I wasn't interesting. I just said it was a unnecessary distraction I didn't allow myself to have."

"And last night?"

"Curiosity killed the cat. You're oddly appealing, John." John sat there for awhile. Processing every last detail that had just been uttered. Least he had a date to work with now.

"So instead of doing the conventional thing and just putting it straight forwardly, like you so very much like to do, you chose to do it in a way as deceiving as possible?" He asked, looking at Sherlock tentatively.

"Correct. You are aware I am unable to express my … feelings as openly as those like yourself, John. It would appear to be my one fault. In this situation anyway." John remained silent. Replaying every detail, going over every fact. Kneeling up John edged himself forward and grabbed Sherlock by the arm. He swiftly pulled the man onto the bed and manoevered himself on top of him.

"I think it's time I returned the favour. Though I do believe this shall require some extensive research to complete."

"You know my methods John. Apply them."

"Oh trust me," John smirked as he leaned closer, crashing his mouth with Sherlock's in a rough kiss. Pulling away momentarily he nipped slightly at Sherlock's bottom lip. "I shall."