A/N: So, this is a real game my friends and I participated in at a party last night; the host said he had played it many times in Germany. Thus the title! I myself do not drink alcohol but apparently it is a very good game to get very drunk to. Needless to say, it was an entertaining night. My real life keeps slithering into these fictions, hope that's not a bad thing?
Enjoy!

The Case of the German Drinking Game

"John, it is really impossible… highly un…likely, I will ever be able to do this correctly."

"Oh come off it. Stop your whining and choose; it's a fun game!"

"It's not a game, its fifty-fifty chance!" then, for some reason John couldn't understand, the truly drunk detective burst into giggles.

Watching the terribly childish sight, John smiled dreamily as he decided he enjoyed Sherlock's giggles. Even if they were fucking weird and uncharacteristic. Hearing them coming out of that gorgeous posh exterior was like seeing Mycroft smile. It was just bloody strange and rare. Though he'd rather the giggles any day.

He held up the deck of cards once more; "Pick, you complete nutter. Red or black?"

Composing himself, the curly-haired man looked deep in thought; as if he could stare at the cards long enough and they would become transparent to him or there was some kind of mark which could tell him the color through deduction. John swore he heard a distinct humming coming from that pale, tempting throat before the younger man exclaimed, "Red!"

Flipping over the card, it was a ten of spades. A black ten of spades. "Oh, bad luck mate. Drink up."

Sherlock pursed his lips, picking up the shot glass which was filled generously with amber liquid. He downed it quickly, fire trailing down his throat. Taking the deck from his colleague, he asked intensely, almost seductively, "Red or Black, John?"

Looking into those brilliantly lit pools of silver-green, John could practically feel those eyes undressing him. It was arousing, even in his drunken stupor. Putting his hand on the trouser-clad knee, he leaned in close, he whispered the word with confidence, with just a bit of challenge: "Red."

Staring straight at those hypnotically emotional eyes and swallowing hard, Sherlock felt his fingers slowly flip the card… before he had a chance to direct his attention towards the outcome, John's lips captured his.

It was sloppy and as uncoordinated as kisses got, but the hazy-minded genius could forgive his intoxicated lover for his lack of finesse. This wasn't really the time for grace anyways. They fought for dominance, both biting and sucking at one another's lips. Tongues did battle and twin moans were the spoils of war.

Diving the hand that didn't holding cards into John's ashy hair, Sherlock could feel the spikes brush across his fingers; he wondered briefly if one could get fingerprints off of ones scalp. Definitely something to experiment with.

"John… the card."

They looked down simultaneously, bumping heads. Hardly feeling it through their thick fog of inebriation, they both gazed upon the flipped card in Sherlock's hand.

It was a queen of hearts. The red queen of hearts.

With a whoop and a proud smile, John filled a pouting Sherlock another shot.

He had a feeling tonight was going to be fucking brilliant.