A/N Hey My Lovelies!!!! Happy Saint Patrick's Day!!! For those of you partying tonight, stay safe and have fun!! Here is a fun little one for St Patty's Day!!! P.S. Expect a drunken idea tomorrow or later tonight....me and MandyFullertonLee are gonna be drinking tonight!! lol
P.P.S Check out my new book, its a JohnLock story to. It's called; "Don't Mess With Time (JohnLock)
Sherlock was startled awake by the slamming of the front door. John was finally home. He had worked today, but hadn't come home after his shift and hadn't bothered t text. Sherlock was concerned, there were people out there that would want to hurt him and his flatmate. He listened to the footsteps that stumbled up the stairs.
John was drunk
That made sense, he had mentioned something about going to the Pub with someone after work. Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief and stood, preparing to deal with Drunk John and his flirtatious ways. When John drank, his flirting game seemed to improve quite significantly. He was even able to fluster Sherlock if he wasn't focusing. That wasn't going to happen, not again. Sherlock hated getting flustered by John's drunken words and actions. He was always left confused and hurting.
"Sherlock! Good, you're awake!" John stumbled through the door to their flat, dramatically whispering as though he would wake someone.
"It's only ten in the evening John, of course I am awake." John giggled and tried to take his coat off, nearly falling over in the process. Sherlock stepped forward and caught his flatmate before he could lose his balance.
"Oh, hello Mr. Holmes." John's voice was a deep, slightly slurred, growl as he tried to pull Sherlock closer. The detective fought his way free of John's grip and steered the shorter man over to his chair. He pushed him back so he fell heavily into the seat. John giggled again and tried to pull Sherlock closer by his hips, but the taller man evaded his grasp.
"Stay there, I am going to make you some coffee and toast."
"Nah, I want whiskey!"
"Not happening, I refuse to clean up your vomit again John. You will have coffee and toast." John whined sinking back in his chair and crossing his arms, looking like a petulant child. Sherlock turned to make his way to the kitchen when he felt it. A harsh pinch to his backside that caused him to yelp and jump away, rubbing the sore area. John was laughing hysterically, nearly falling out of his chair. "What was that for?"
"You aren't wearing green!" Sherlock was confused, why did the color of his wardrobe give John cause to pinch him? "It's Saint Patrick's Day! You aren't wearing green, you get pinched!" Realization dawned on the man, that was why John went to the Pub. That also explained the hideous green sweater John had chosen to wear. It also accounted for the copious amounts of green glitter that seemed to be covering his friend.
"Why did you have to pinch me that hard?" Sherlock was flustered, there was no denying it at this point. He did the best he could to play it off as mildly irritated.
"What's wrong? Afraid you might bruise? I am a doctor, you could let me have a look." John stood, slightly wobbly on his feet, and stalked towards Sherlock, the hungry look in his eyes sending a jolt of arousal through the detective. Sherlock simultaneously loved and hated being the focus of that look. He loved it, because it meant that there was at least a part of John that wanted Sherlock as badly as he wanted John. He hated it because it meant that John would forget this in the morning and return to his closeted thoughts, leaving Sherlock hurt and alone.
John had pinned Sherlock against the wall, the only distance between them being that which Sherlock was fighting to keep, his hands pressed against the former soldier's chest.
"John-"
"God, Sherlock. Do you have any idea what you do to me?" John whispered, trying to press closer, Sherlock fighting him every inch of the way.
"Y-yes John, I believe you may have mentioned it before."
"What's wrong Love?" John pulled off Sherlock, stepping back and looking incredibly sober for a man that could barely stand up properly. The name John used sent knives flying through Sherlock's chest. He only ever called him that when he was past reason.
"Please don't. Not tonight." Sherlock whispered, feeling his body start to tremble with the weight of his emotions. John stepped slightly closer, not pressing against Sherlock like before, this time he just stood there, hands by his sides.
"Don't what Love?"
"That, don't do that. Just please let me fix you something so you don't lose whatever is on your stomach and get you to bed." Sherlock was barely able to contain the tremor in his voice. John shook his head and pinned Sherlock in again.
"No."
"John, please-"
"No, Sherlock. We are going to discuss this."
"What's the point? You are just going to forget in the morning anyways."
"I promise you I won't."
"John, you can barely stand up straight. You will not retain any of these memories."
"I retained the last ones." Sherlock froze, looking down at his flatmate, hoping to find some semblance of a joke or misunderstanding hidden there. His eyes were steady and true.
"Y-you m-mean-?"
"Yes Love, every single one of them. Well, except for Christmas, that one is pretty fuzzy."
"I'm not surprised, you spent most of the night vomiting into the toilet while I made sure you didn't choke on your own bile." John chuckled, pulling Sherlock in for a hug. The detective smiled and let himself be hugged. "How come you never said anything?"
"You would always say how you knew that I would prefer it if I couldn't remember, so I thought you didn't want me to say anything."
"I just didn't want you to be embarrassed and leave."
"Not going to happen Love." John pulled back and looked up into Sherlock's eyes, one of his hands coming to rest on Sherlock's cheek. "Can I kiss you now?" He whispered, his breath ghosting over Sherlock's lips as he nodded. When their lips met, it was different than the last few times. This one was wanted desperately by both parties. It was slightly sloppy, seeing as how John was still drunk, but it was by far the best kiss Sherlock had ever had to date.
"John?" He whispered when they finally parted, panting softly against each other's lips.
"Yes Love?"
"Do you have any Irish in you?"
"No, I don't believe I do. Why?"
"Would you like to have a bit of Irish in you?" John was quiet for a moment, his drink-slowed mind taking it's time to register Sherlock's words and the deep flush that spread over pale skin. Sherlock felt John laugh against him, a full-bodied laugh that caused the blushing detective to laugh along with him.
"I-I didn't know you were Irish." He managed, once he could breathe again. Sherlock's blush got impossibly darker.
"My mother's side of the family were from Ireland, and I believe someone on my father's side as well."
"I can't believe I am about to go for one of the worst pickup lines in history."
"So, is that a yes?"
"Oh, God yes."
