"John," Sherlock breathed.
"Sherlock," John whispered back.
"You're going to have let go of me now," Sherlock said as clearly as he could.
"Oh," John sounded surprised, as though he didn't realize he had a hold of Sherlock.
Sherlock felt John's hands move away from his shoulders. Then he felt John crumple as his balance was lost. Sherlock rolled his eyes. Sherlock cursed whoever discovered alcohol as he struggled to pull John back up on his feet. John wobbled and giggled, laying his head on Sherlock's chest. Sherlock began to wonder why he'd suggested John take advantage of the free drink prize they'd received for winning the competition. They'd miraculously made it up the first set of stairs, but now Sherlock was struggling to keep John upright as he stared up John's stairs in despair.
Then he felt something hot and wet on his neck. He hissed fiercely at John as the other man kissed at his neck. Sherlock was thoroughly confused; He thought he was supposed to not have sex with John? Why was John kissing his neck if he wanted him to court him before they had sex? Kissing on the neck was always a sexual thing, wasn't it?
"What are you doing?!" Sherlock snapped in a hiss.
John giggled and swayed slightly, his hands beginning to wander. Sherlock frowned. John must be one of those people that got disgustingly horny when they were intoxicated.
"John, stop!" Sherlock hissed.
"No," John growled.
Then John was pushing roughly and sloppily against him. Sherlock felt his heart rate jump at least 15 beats as John grounded against his leg. Yes, yes, this is good, Sherlock's thought dazedly, good, good, good. He pressed his hands against John back, trying to press him closer. Wait, wait, wait…this isn't right, no, no, this is wrong, Sherlock thought, shaking his head and pushing John away. John swayed backwards and frowned before pressing back to Sherlock, who hissed viciously.
"No. No. No!" Sherlock shouted, pressing John backwards into the wall, "No! This isn't right! Why isn't this right?!"
He slammed John against the wall, causing John to gasp loudly. He squeezed John's wrists as he held John's hands above his head and against the wall. John's eyes were brimmed with tears from the bump of his head. He whimpered up at Sherlock, his blue eyes wide with some sort of emotion that Sherlock couldn't read. Sherlock pressed his hips against John's, testing. John let out an obscene noise and wobbled. Sherlock let out a frustrated noise: it still wasn't right. Something stopped him. Something stopped this from being right.
"Why isn't this right?!" Sherlock yelled at John.
John looked up, his face twisting and some of the tears falling over. Sherlock glared hard at John.
"I want you," Sherlock said angrily, "So why is this not right?"
John blinked dazedly, the rest of the tears leaking out of his eyes. His body started shaking in Sherlock's grasp. Sherlock leaned down and stared hard into John's eyes. Why isn't this right? Why isn't this right? Why isn't this right? He chanted in his mind. He looked deep into John's eyes and saw what he was looking for: John's eyes weren't entirely focused. John wasn't entirely with it. John wasn't entirely there. This wasn't John. It was a slight shadow of John.
Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief and released John. The other man fell limply against him, his face pressing to Sherlock's chest. Sherlock pressed a hand into John's hair and stroked his hand through the soft sandy locks silently. John whimpered against him.
"Sh-Sherlock…I have to tell y-you something," John's voice came out desperate.
"Not now," Sherlock whispered firmly.
"B-but Sh-Sherlock I…I re-really-," John sputtered tearfully.
"Not. Now. For now, shut your mouth," Sherlock said a bit more firmly.
John whimpered again and buried his head back into Sherlock's chest.
"I think we should go to sleep now, John," Sherlock said calmly.
John nodded against Sherlock's chest and Sherlock started dragging him towards his own room rather than brave the stairs to John's room. He pulled the other man into his room and they fell ungracefully onto the bed. Sherlock managed to kick their shoes off and throw them off the bed. Sherlock frowned as he watched John sleep. The man had almost instantly fallen asleep. As Sherlock watched the man his face cleared of the confusing frown and tilted up into a light smile.
Now this was John.
As John regained consciousness he tightened his hold around whatever it was he had a hold of. It turned out to be a body. John opened one eye slightly and peeked at the warm body pressed against him. It was Sherlock (who else would it be?). John panicked for a brief moment until he noted that they were both dressed except for their shoes. John relaxed significantly, shifting his bad shoulder. He winced a little and that was all it took.
Sherlock suddenly shot up and over, pinning John beneath him. His hands pressed against John's neck before he processed who it was that was in his bed. John stared up at him with wide, fearful eyes. Sherlock's hands whipped back as he realized it was John.
"Sorry," he muttered, "Not used to people in my bed."
John frowned slightly. Then he felt a rolling in his stomach and threw Sherlock off of him. He ran to the bathroom and promptly spewed chunks into the toilet. He groaned loudly as his head began to pound. Usually, if he went slowly in the morning, he could reduce the headache, but since he'd jumped and ran, everything was too fast for his brain to stay calm. He laid his head on the toilet seat, not really caring that asses had been on it before (after all, it had only been his and Sherlock's, so what was the difference?). He squeezed his eyes closed against the headache.
"John, are you…are you alright?" came a timid voice from the doorway.
John opened one eye just a crack to see a shy looking Sherlock hiding behind the door. Sherlock had taken off his coat (how the hell did he sleep in that thing anyway?), revealing the purple shirt of sex. John smiled slightly at the adorably shy vibes that Sherlock was giving off. He supposed it had something to do with his cattiness, but it was still the cutest thing he'd seen in a while. John began to wonder if that's how Sherlock looked when he had sex: all shy and adorable. John groaned as arousal was added to his list of pains.
"John?" the timid voice again.
John smiled.
"I'm fine," he muttered.
He lifted himself off the floor and flushed the toilet. He quickly washed his face and brushed his teeth. Sherlock stood behind the door, peeking at him the entire time. John found it incredibly adorable. He rooted around in the cabinet and found some aspirin. As he went to the kitchen for water, Sherlock followed behind him like a…well, like a cat. He watched John take the aspirin from the entrance of the kitchen and then followed him into the living room. John sat in his chair and rubbed at his eyes as Sherlock hovered next to him.
"Are you going to follow me around all day?" John asked tiredly.
Sherlock made a meowing sound and dropped to the floor at his feet. John looked down at him in alarm, but saw that he'd just decided to sit down. Sherlock looked up at John hesitantly, his ears twitching nervously. John raised an eyebrow at him.
"Did you…like our date?" Sherlock asked, looking away sheepishly.
God, so adorable! John thought, practically drooling all over himself.
"Yes, I did," John answered finally.
Sherlock's head snapped up and he grinned widely, his tail suddenly dancing around behind him. Then he put his mask back on and looked back away.
"That's good," he said in an indifferent tone.
John grinned, knowing that Sherlock was not indifferent: his tail was still dancing like mad behind him.
Little note: I know! It took forever! T.T But here you are! I hope you liked it! Adorable cat Sherlock being adorable! Yay! Love you all!
