Chapter 2: Last night

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, only John.

Boredom overweighed the biggest part of Sherlock's brain.

John was out with Mike for a pint, Greg was on holiday, Mrs. Hudson was with her neighbour and even Mycroft, the prat, wasn't reachable at the time. And there was absolutely NOTHING to do.

Even the gun seemed to have vanished and he had run out of body parts. This wasn't fun, not at all! It appeared as if the world had conspired against him. He let out an exaggerated sigh.

The only thing that he hadn't used in the last few days, including the cigarettes (Don't you dare tell John!), was the telly. It stood there and almost screamed I'm superfluous! I'm only streaming horrific TV-shows that only Andersons watch, but what can you do.

Sherlock slumped himself onto the sofa and grabbed the control, already preparing for the dullest evening ever. How tedious the world was. He hoped John would come home soon, so he could entertain him.


After several minutes of mindless soap-operas, Sherlock gave in. He just couldn't stand this bugger anymore. Emotions, emotions everywhere! And the actors weren't high-quality either, hire a potato it would do a better job! Sherlock turned around, so now his face was lying flat on the pillow, letting only the bunch of curls out into plain view.

What should he do though? Was there anything to do at all? In the world? John, this heartless traitor! How could he possibly do such a cruel thing to him? Maybe John didn't want to spend his time with him? He muffled a few indefinable curses into the union-jack pillow.

Sherlock had been in love with John for an impressive amount of time, actually almost from the very beginning. And although it had taken some time to confess those feelings to himself, he knew they had always been there, somewhere. If you had been asexual almost all your life, consider your confusion when finding out you've got feelings for somebody else.

But confessing them to John was an entire other story. That wouldn't ever happen, couldn't ever happen. Everything would fall… again.

As if Reichenbach hadn't been enough, though. He shuddered.

For some reason even Sherlock didn't know, Reichenbach couldn't be deleted from his brain, no matter how hard he struggled against it. All the memories kept coming back to him and sometimes upset him to the point of terrifying horror, but he just couldn't let go.

But as horrifying as that time might have been, it had one good side to it. In these days the yearning for John had increased vehemently and Sherlock had started to wonder if these feelings that he owned were only those of a friend.

Because the longing to snog someone senseless wasn't really included in an average friendship, as far as he could tell.

But of course their relationship was at no point average, was it?

And that was the exact period when he had found out he was in love. Had been for a dreadfully long time. And with no one other than John Watson.

It brought him hope at that time. Or rather John brought him hope. And that was his motivation to fight on, to never let go. Because if he succeeded, John would be alive. And that was all that had mattered to him.

But never being able to confess those feelings to John had made him feel like there was a hole inside. A rather big hole which increased with every date John brought home, with every second passing in which he didn't speak of his true feelings.

Why couldn't John just be gay? It would make thinks much less different. They could be snogging right now! He sighed desperately at that thought.

All these feelings made him feel awful, so he decided to clear his mind off of things a bit. Maybe he could visit John in the bar?

He knew bars were actually one of the places he least wanted to visit right now, but there wasn't anything else to do, really. And John was there as well. Definitely a pro.


Strong and self-confident steps led Sherlock to the door of the bar, which neon signs blinked brighter than a few suns combined. After only a second of looking into the neon light, he was sure that he detested it. His eyes had started hurting already.

But the neon signs weren't of any importance, therefore he placed them in the back of his mind, for later. Maybe he could form a plan then: how to rid the bar of its horrible lights. They would probably be thankful for the change. Neon light is a terrible thing indeed.

Some foot-work later he found himself on the dance floor of the club, trying to get away from impressive hoards of dancing and lulling people and not being able to locate John anywhere. You didn't need Sherlock to deduce that his mood was borderline shitty.

Until he noticed a spot in far distance to himself that looked just like jumpers and jam. Must be John then.

The detective became giddier with every step that he took towards John and his knees seemed willing to buckle up. Other people would have described Sherlock as very composed then and there, but he felt like the complete opposite. Naturally he didn't let that shine through, though.

But once he had finally reached John, his giddiness and excitement had all but vanished. Instead nausea took their places and Sherlock felt like throwing up any minute from then.

The reason for this retort was that this spot, or rather his spot, was now slow-dancing with no one else apart from Sarah Sawyer, one lady that they had met on a case last week.

Sherlock seemed to boil with fury and wanted to turn on the step, he couldn't withstand their sight any longer. And it seemed that Watson didn't want him there anyway.

Thus he started furiously and grimly stalking away until he was interrupted by a shout coming from across the room. "Sherlock!" yelled a voice that sounded very similar to John's and after turning around was found guilty of being so.

Was he now forced to small-talk with that woman? Or even worse, with John? Right now was really not the time or the place. And that Sawyer-woman was looking at his (his) doctor as if he was her rightful prey. He had never seen a woman more disgusting.

Or a man more drunk.

John stood (or rather swayed) around and started mumbling a few lines of a song, but dismissed it shortly after not being able to recall the rest of it. He grinned maniacally and let his gaze wander from Sarah to Sherlock, though surprisingly staring longer at Sherlock than at Sarah.

The hopeful side of Sherlock's heart fluttered when he noticed and appeared to burst when he heard the slurred words that came out of John's mouth only seconds later.

"S'lock look… nicer than Sera-h, wanna take 'Lock. Sherly sexier… Jawn loooooooove his Lock. "John "said" whilst hiccupping and later humming contently.

Afterwards he stared at Sherlock for a very few seconds and added quietly "…love you!" With an earnest expression on his hedgehog-like face.

Sherlock gaped at John a moment and then his face lit up like an explosion. So… there was a possibility that John, John, loved him? Him of all people?

Oh, how badly he wanted that to be true.

Although, most likely, John was just being his drunk self. The truth behind his exclamation was highly questionable and if he would even remember it the next day was another issue entirely. How naïve he had been. Nevertheless it gave Sherlock great pleasure to witness such a scene and having been told that he was loved, for once and for all really loved, made him feel weightless. "Like a fairy, John", he recalled and could do nothing but chuckle at the thought of it.

And even if it all really was only John being drunk, it would be a memory that he would always hold dear.

He may never hear these words be spoken from John out of sincerity and with a clear head, but at least he had now got the chance of hearing them at all. Merely hearing them come out of John's vocal chords made Sherlock happier than he had ever been. It was more than he could have ever wished or hoped for.

The man really did do wonders to Sherlock.

Soon after Sherlock had more or less recovered from the sudden flood of emotions and tried to compose himself again. It looked as if Sarah was gaping at him already, but it seemed that there was another reason apart from his absent-minded ponderings.

Her breath had gone a little shaky around the edges and you could see her anger seep through her vivid eyes. She took another tiny look at John and one a little longer at Sherlock. Sarah looked as if she was just about to turn on the spot, when she said beforehand:

"You…You! I… I hope you two will get happy together, you know. You both make a wonderful couple. Not… Not that I would care anyways… (*muffled*)… bastard…"

It was too late for her to receive her reply, by the time Sherlock had opened his mouth she was long since gone. Not that that mattered to Sherlock, though.

He turned his attention to John again and smiled broadly at him, which swiped John off his feet. See, Sherlock actually smiling hasn't happened often in the last weeks. It had made the appearance that Sherlock, or rather his mind, had been rather preoccupied during that time. The only thing Sherlock had done throughout it was staring into nothingness, which was right then placed on the ceiling. Never. Speaking. One. Single. Word!

And in addition to that, the smile was actually genuine. Like really authentic. Almost unbelievable.

Sadly the smile didn't last too long and the wrinkles around Sherlock's eyes disappeared, letting the smooth, even skin in sight again. Almost all his features went blank again, but you could still see the sparkle behind his eyes if you only watched closely. The ex-soldier was watching Sherlock's every move and even such a small detail couldn't go unnoticed from John's trained eyes, naturally.

Oh god how much he wanted to touch Sherlock right now! His raven-like curls and his marble skin did things to John. Not to leave out his striking eyes which left John shivering and seemed to pierce right through John's soul. But Sherlock didn't give John much time to appreciate Sherlock's gorgeousness and instead decided to speak up, again with a boyish smile on his face, much to John's pleasure.

"Looks as if we have scared your "date" off then, hmm?" (Which was followed by an almost vicious chuckle) "Are you sober enough to walk home with me? Or shall we get a taxi? I don't mind either alternative, we should just get home quickly. I don't think it would do you any good to stay here though, at least not in the state you are currently in. So?"

"I wanna stay, 's nice here! Just... for a short time? 2 songs? Pleeeaaase?" John begged full of hope and made a face the nearest he could get to a puppy-dog, which was cuter than anything Sherlock had ever seen in his whole life.

He should ask John to do that more often, especially when drunk. It was too ridiculous and scrunched up to be real.

"Okay, persuaded. ", he sighed "But not for longer than half an hour, deal?"

"Deal!"

Notes: Thanks for all the kind reviews and follows I've recieved and another special shout-out to my best friend, because she's one huge ball of awesomeness. Please R&R to become as awesome!

Lots of love, cream-tea-with-a-madman :D