Denial | A Johnlock fanfiction

Drunken Dinner

"You didn't answer my question," John said a few hours later. Sherlock was sat on his armchair, his hands as if in prayer against his lips, eyes closed. His eyes shot open, pulled out of his mind palace, to look at John. He seemed confused and didn't say anything, so John continued. "I just realised. When I asked the next step, you said what you knew, but not anything else."

"Yes. I'm not sure yet, tricky case." Sherlock said, hopping out of his seat and over to one of the draws. He looked agitated now, and he ruffled his hair as he stared at the contents, looking for something. He pulled out a packet of nicotine patches and walked over to the sofa, lying down on it. John thought about saying something, but this paled in comparison to what the man was probably really craving. This was better than cocaine. He watched Sherlock put on not one, not two, but three nicotine patches. Sherlock, as if reading John's mind, spoke again. "This is a three-patch problem."

John felt his lips turn into a small smile. That wasn't the first time he'd said that. He'd said when they had just met. He decided, now that Sherlock was once again deeply emerged in his mind palace, that he would get a start on dinner. He'd brought all the ingredients for one of Sherlock's favourite meals, vegetable Thai green curry. He started cooking it (from scratch, even the paste he made himself, which he rarely ever did. Sherlock walked into the kitchen at some point and got out two plates and two wine glasses. John raised an eyebrow as he watched Sherlock pour them a glass of wine each before putting the bottle on the dining table.

"When did you get that?" John asked.

"Tuesday," Sherlock said. That was the day that Sherlock had rushed in upset. He wondered if Sherlock had somehow managed to hide it in his coat. It was nice looking wine, expensive looking white wine (neither of them liked red wine particularly). He wondered if Sherlock had managed to hide the wine under his coat when he had walked in. "But I won't be needing it for its intended purpose now. So we can drink it now."

John watched Sherlock's eyes go dark, still aimed at the bottle of wine, before shaking his head. He sat down, and John could see the hurt in Sherlock's eyes. Had he been rejected by somebody? That didn't seem plausible, not only because Sherlock was a very attractive man, or because he didn't show an interest in people, but because he hadn't been out of John's sight long enough to have met somebody. But then again, maybe the man (if Sherlock really was gay) had just not swung that way. John suddenly felt a tang of jealousy before quickly shaking it away. He couldn't help these strange feelings he'd been having recently, and now that he was monitoring Sherlock, he didn't have a chance to clear his head.

"Dinner is served," John said, putting the plate in front of Sherlock and sitting down on his own. "And thank you for the wine."

"Thank you, John," Sherlock said, finally looking excited to eat. They both got a start on dinner, Sherlock complimenting him by saying it was the best vegetable Thai curry he had ever eaten, and John saying the wine was the best he had ever drunk. They had both already had two glasses of wine before dinner was over, and both men were giggling about old times and just random things they had said. Sherlock poured them another glass as John put the plates in the sink, almost falling over on the way.

"Here you go, my dear Watson," Sherlock said as he offered him the glass.

"My dear?" John repeated as he took it, feeling his cheeks heat up. He was glad for the excuse of the wine. John took a gulp of the wine to try and drown the weird feeling. Sherlock followed suit, his own cheeks flushed red as well, although John blamed it on the wine.

"Yes, problem?" Sherlock asked before finishing his glass. John did the same, and Sherlock immediately poured them another. John didn't know how to respond to that, his face heating up even more now. He was drunk, he could feel it, and as he took another sip all reason left him as he stared at the beauty they called Sherlock Holmes. His face was flushed pink, and his eyes ocean blue. Somewhere was a voice telling John to stop, but the alcohol drowned that part of John out.

"No problem at all, dear," John said back, a smile stretching across his face now. The alcohol had taken effect quickly, and now with John's filter completely destroyed, 'danger' was imminent (or at least, that's what he would say when he was sober). Sherlock's face was priceless, his eyes had widened and his mouth formed into a small 'o'. "Or should I call you Corporal?"

What are you doing, John? Came that little part of John that was usually silent when he was drunk. The sound Sherlock made completely shut it up, however, a choked whimper that turned into a cough, an obvious attempt to pretend he never made it. John smirked, knowing what that meant. Sherlock had a crush on him, and drunk John liked that, something sober John would hate. Sherlock didn't look at him but John had something else to add once he'd finished his glass of wine.

"Pour your captain another glass, Corporal." John ordered drunkenly. The same sound threatened to leave Sherlock, but this time he managed to stifle it. John could see Sherlock's face turn an even deeper red, and his eyes met John's before shakily grabbing the wine bottle and pouring John's glass.

"May I pour myself a glass, Captain?" He asked once he finished, his voice shaking.

"Yes, Corporal, but only since I like seeing you all flustered," John started on his next glass of wine as he watched Sherlock pour another, spilling a little wine on the table as he did. He didn't say anything, in fact Sherlock looked like a flustered, shaky mess. John felt a wave rush over him, maybe drunkenness, or maybe something else, John couldn't be sure and he didn't really care. This felt good, watching Sherlock melt from his words, watching him go bright red and nervous, something he'd never seen Sherlock do before.

"You're drunk," Sherlock said, suddenly looking sorrowful.

"As are you." John said.

"No, I mean - never mind," Sherlock said, his eyes falling into his lap. John frowned also, not understanding what he had done wrong. Sherlock had seemed to be enjoying himself and his drunken advances. Why was he suddenly upset?

"Tell me," John said.

"I-I can't. It will make you hate me." Those were the same words Sherlock had said before. It made John think this was related to what happened on Tuesday somehow, but that was all drunk John was able to work out.

"I could never hate you, Sherlock. I mean it, just like I said the other day." He said. Sherlock looked at him for a moment before gulping down the rest of his wine, and once again John followed suit.

"Okay, I'll tell you. But please don't let this ruin things." Sherlock began. He looked into his lap, once again, and John shuffled in his chair, feeling a wave of dizziness overtake him. "I-I love you, John. I always have."

____________________

AN - Please leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter!