Author's Note: CHEESE BEWARE!

"What!?" I let my hand drop from Sherlock's waist, sending him crashing to the floor of the cot, "Oh, sorry Sherlock."

"Erg..." he groaned, somehow managing to sit up.

"You just kind of surprised me is all," I assured, sitting down across from him, unwilling to attempt letting him stand again.

"Why don' you answer my ques'ion?"

"Well..." I started, unable to think of anything else to say. Oh dear lord what am I going to do about Mary?

"Please say yes, 'cuz I really, really, really, really wanna' kiss you right now," Sherlock slurred, blinking slowly at some point about an inch above my eyes.

"Umm, well, er, I dunno' Sherlock, I am happily married," I felt horribly stupid trying to make intelligent conversation with a loopy Holmes.

"Oh Jawn, you an' I both know the only reason you sai' yes to 'er, is 'cuz of the baby that isn't even yours," Sherlock reasoned, effectively confusing me.

"What do you mean, the baby isn't mine?"

"Ooh, I forgot, if I tell ya', Mary would shoot me again, in the head his time," he giggled again, feigning being shot in the head.

"What? Sherlock tell me everything."

Sherlock only drug his fingers across his lips and made a locking gesture at the corner of his mouth before 'throwing away the key'.

"My lipz are sealed Jawn, I don' wanna' get shot in he head," he grinned, and laid back down on the cot, "I'm tired, goodnigh' sweet blogger."

He promptly fell asleep again, hopefully to overcome the drunk-like mindset.

"And when you wake up, we'll talk," I mumbled, leaning against the side of the tent, watching him.

-oO0Oo-

Two hours later, Jenny, Vastra, Mycroft and I were all sitting around a campfire eating beans out of tin bowls. The night sky on Clom was unlike anything I could have imagined. There were few stars, but they were in an array of colors.

Seven moons hung in the navy blue sky. Gaseous purple clouds floated across the fantastical display, in complete contrast to the bog-like hell-scape that was the surface of the planet.

"So John, is Sherlock doing well?" Mycroft asked tersely.

"Good, good, he's fine, it's all, fine," I choked out, poking at my beans.

"Is something the matter?" Jenny put her hand on my arm, looking me over worriedly.

"The, er, drug thing, will he, um, will he remember anything he said or did?"

"A strange question no doubt, but yes, he will remember it all," Vastra answered, raising a scaly eyebrow.

"O-okay cool, the, um, the beans are good," I remarked lamely, but hey, it was this or discuss Sherlock's estranged affections. (whether or not they were completely one sided remains t be seen and dealt with)

"Thank you John, it took us a whole three minutes to prepare them," Jenny said lightly, trying ever so hard to bring up the mood.

I barked out a harsh laugh, but I think it only concerned the others even more. It can't possibly get worse than this, I though bitterly, knowing full well that it could, and probably would.

And it did.

For mere seconds after I had ceased my dismal musing, Sherlock Holmes in all of his glory emerged gracefully from the canvas tent, having shed his beloved Belstaff.

"Ah, brother mine, I trust your little nap was pleasant?" Mycroft took a dainty bite of his beans.

"Very rejuvenating I must say," Sherlock replied stiffly, keeping his eyes fixed on the campfire.

"Well come on then, have a seat, if you want I can fix you up some beans if you want," Jenny encouraged happily, patting the fold-away chair to her left.

"Thank you Jenny, and yes, I would love some beans if you don't mind, trekking across an alien planet does leave one rather famished," the detective replied in an uncharacteristic show of courtesy.

"How are you coping Mr. Holmes?" Vastra inquired, now sporting a skin tight leather suit to match Jenny's.

"Oh, me? Great actually. Nothing like a good injection and some sleep to get over your troubles," he said a bit wistfully.

I was suddenly struck with the desire to go over and comfort him, but we all know what any attempt to help Sherlock would be met with.

The conversation lapsed into a semi-awkward silence before Jenny came galumphing back, bean tin in tow.

"Here you go, love. Nice and fresh. Now eat up before they get cold," she handed him the beans and patted his shoulder in an almost maternal show of affection.

I couldn't help but grin. Jenny was like Mrs. Hudson in that manner.

"Well John aren't you being awfully quiet?" Mycroft noticed.

"Not much to say," I shrugged, and stuffed another spoonful of beans into my mouth.

The quiet took reign again, amplifying every gurgle of water or clinking of cutlery.

"Tomorrow we will arrive at our first city on Clom, we can't use the TARDIS because the natives, the Abzorbaloffs, have developed technology that can detect the use of unauthorized ships," Vastra explained, "It will take two to three days to reach our final destination, it will take two to three days to get back to the TARDIS, and then the Doctor will take to two of you home, an hour after you left."

We all nodded along with her.

"We have reason the believe that the White-Point Star is in the capital city of this sector on Clom. We are technically unauthorized to be here, so, try not to let anyone see you," Jenny finished, going around and collecting all of our empty bowls.

"This was quite a lovely supper, and I now advise that we all retire to bed," Mycroft stated, standing up and brushing of his pants, "Madame Vastra, you and Jenny have the tent on the far left, right?"

"Yes Doctor, you can have your pick of the others, oh, John Sherlock, I hope you don't mind, you two will have to share a tent, but don't worry, they are rather spacious," Vastra responded, following Jenny of the clean the bowls. Mycroft nodded his thanks and sauntered off to his respective tent.

"Well, I guess we're sharing one then," I looked over at Sherlock, who was pointedly averting his gaze.

"Brilliant deduction that John," he spat, and stomped off to our tent. Sighing, I raced after him.

"Sherlock? What's wrong mate?" I called after him, ducking into the tent.

"You know quite well what is wrong, mate, if your memory is by some miracle able to stretch past the immediately important."

"Well sorry. I didn't mean to upset you is all," I growled, laying down on my cot and pulling the scratchy blanket up to my chin.

Silence. Neither of us spoke a word, until Sherlock did.

"I'm sorry too, John. I didn't mean to be so, forthright, I'll delete the memory if it pleases you," he whispered.

"No no, don't delete it Sherlock, I, I just, why didn't you tell me before? I'm your best friend, you can always talk to me," I reassured, twisting around on my back and looked at Sherlock, cured up on his own cot.

"I didn't want to complicate things, you were just so happy with Mary, and, I don't know..."

"Ask me Sherlock."

"What?"

"Ask me again. Ask me the question again," I urged, scooting closer to him.

"Why John?"

"Just do it."

"Okay, well, do you love me?"

"Yes Sherlock. More than anything."

Oh, they're so cute!