Archive of Our Own ^beta

    Unsure whether the fact that it was the pints they both downed, or the fact that Mrs. Hudson kicked them off the stairs, they did not know, but somehow they ended up playing a form of Headbandz. It was John's idea in the first place. His intoxicated mind wondered off for possibilities to add excitement to the night. After a brief overview of the rules, Sherlock giggled drunkenly and agreed to the game. 

    "Stay there," Sherlock staggered, pointing at John in his chair.

    "Why the hell should I?"

    "Because..." Sherlock trailed off, stumbling to his right and clutching onto the kitchen doorway. "I... I need to pick something, but... Heheheh butts... No peeking!"

    Sherlock balanced himself on the table then rummaged through the papers. His eye caught one odd name from a section. He didn't recognize it, but he guessed it was some human. Slowly, trying to make sure he'd written the ridiculous name correctly, he spelled out Madonna on small Post-It type paper.

-

    John cranked his neck as he looked over his shoulder, watching Sherlock drunkenly push papers around and off the table. He himself did not have and idea of what to put on the small paper. He tried to think of some names. 

    You're getting married soon, maybe you should put their name on the paper... John smiled at what he believed to be his brilliance until he froze. Dammit. Whas-ser name again? He glanced around, trying to remember his fiancée's name, but his mind drew a blank, filled with only one thought- Sherlock.

    Sherlock, the man, no, person in who John trusted the most- sort of.

    Did he trust him? John didn't even completely know.

    John glanced back at the man in whom bent himself over the kitchen table, throwing newspapers around the room. Not even entirely sure of what he was doing, he watched Sherlock's body. How it moved, how it flowed elegantly even though he was intoxicated.

    Am I engaged to Sherlock? No, no. I'm getting married to a woman. Marry... Mary! That's right, her name is Mary.

    ... I'm getting married.

    No more of this.

    No more nights at 221b.

    No more full time Sherlock ever again.

    My best friend...

    That's it! John scribbled down on his paper with a sneaky smirk.

    Sherlock Holmes.

-

    After managing to stick the names to each other's foreheads (with remarkably long eye contact as they did so) and the drinks refilled, the men began questioning.

    "Am I a pretty lady?"

    "I..." Sherlock trailed off, leaning closer to John, filling a small bit of the space that existed between them. "I don't know who you are- who you're supposed to be. I picked your name from the paper." He flicked his wrist lazily towards the mess he'd made of the kitchen. John let out a drunken giggle. Sherlock smiled back and began again. "I- I guess it's my turn again. I'm not you... Am I attractive?"

    John caught his breath. He didn't know how to respond, and even in Sherlock's drunken state he could see John's hesitation as well as the possibility that he said something he probably shouldn't have said. 

    John. looked at Sherlock closely, leaning even more forward. "Depends on who's opinion. Some find you very attractive, while others find you the complete opposite," John replied, feeling satisfied. 

    "To you?" Sherlock startled John with his question.

    No reply.

    "John, the point of this is to answer."

    "Jesus Christ, I'm thinking. Do you ever shut up?"

    "Sometimes." Sherlock mischievously raised his eyebrows and fell back into his chair, sipping at his drink.

    Taking a deep inhale and a sharp exhale through his nose, John responded with closed eyes. "I guess so, yes. You are attractive."

    "Great." Sherlock sighed.

    "What?" John slurred sending a puzzled look at Sherlock.

    "I don't know who I am."

    "Oh come on, keep guessing!"

    "Fine. Do either or both of us know me?"

    John nodded, grabbing his drink. "Both of us know you very well."

    "I'm male, correct?"

    "Yes, I'm sure." John laughed dryly before he took a drink.

    "English?"

    "English."

    Silence.

    "I- I really don't know, John."

    "Oh, the great Sherlock Holmes can't even guess who he is in a game!" John smiled while Sherlock creased his face, trying to look as if he were upset, but both John and him knew he wasn't. "Lemme give you a hint." John leaned into Sherlock, moving his head towards Sherlock's ear. "I can't live without you. I tried, but I can't. I will always love you." John pulled away, sitting himself back in his seat. Sherlock simply stared at him with an annoyed glare.

    "John, please tell me I'm not your morning cuppa."

    "Sherlock."

    "Yes?"

    "Tea is not male."

    "It could be."

    "It really couldn't."

    "Fine. Am I your jumpers?"

    John burst into laughter.

    "John, why are you laughing so hard?"

    John was starting to scare Sherlock. "John?"

    Calming himself, John took deep breaths and settled in his chair.

    "John, I was being serious."

    "Yes, I know, you bloody git, and no. You are not my jumpers. You are, probably, human."

    "So I could possibility be an android?"

    "..."

    "You're not very helpful."

    "Really? You're one to talk.

    "Am I?"

    "Yes, I still have no idea who I am."

    "Would you like to know?"

    "Why not, I'll never get it anyway."

    "You're Madonna, whoever that may be."

    "You don't know who Madonna is?"

    Sherlock shook his head.

    "Remind me to show you later. Until then, we must have you figure out who you are."

    Sherlock nodded his head in agreement. "Yes, except I am clueless."

    "You'll get it eventually."

    "... What color eyes do I have?"

    "I... Wow, I don't know."

    "But you know me...."

    "Yeah, but... I honestly don't know. They're... I don't know. They're chameleon."

    "John."

    "Yes?"

    "That's a reptile."

    "I understand, but you're the genius here. What do chameleons do?"

    "Change skin patterns to blend with their surrounds to hide from nearby predators."

    "Yes..."

    "Are you suggesting my eyes change colour?"

    "Exactly."

    "I still don't know who I am." Sherlock jokingly smirked then giggled, "I am me?"

    "..."

    "John, you're meant to answer these questions."

    "You can take off the bloody paper and see."

    Sherlock cautiously removed the paper, slowly turning it in his hands to have the writing face him. To words alone sat on the page. 

    Sherlock Holmes.

    "John..."

    "Don't."

    "John." Sherlock sat up in his seat, looking into John's eyes. He watched John nervously fiddle with the glass that he held, slowly turning it in his left hand while he traced the rim with his right index finger. "You weren't lying."

    "What?"

    "Living without me...." Sherlock slowly edged closer towards John until their faces were just barely a foot apart. "You really wanted me. You wanted for me to be back."

    "Of course." They locked eyes.

    "Beyond that, John. You were lost without me. Living but not alive. You fell in love with Mary, but it wasn't the same. You, you..." Sherlock didn't continue, feeling no need to. 

    Sherlock took a deep breath, tilting his head lightly as he swiftly closed the gap. It was really more of a blur type peck. Sherlock pulled off in the blink of an eye, whispering "I'm sorry, I really am sorry," closing his eyes to avoid anymore awkwardness. He slowly looked down at the floor. "I... I... It's... I couldn't... I'm so sorry, I really am..." Sherlock was cut off by John clutching his collar and dragging him forward. He kissed Sherlock, and waited for him to kiss back. Sherlock's stiffness melted as he allowed himself to soften up in John's embrace. Quickly, the kiss became heavier. Sherlock positioned himself on John's lap, moving his mouth down to John's jaw, dragging sloppy kisses and rounding it's curve. John let out moans of agreement, gently tugging at the soft curls of Sherlock's hair. Suddenly, Sherlock pulled back, John's hands still in the tangle of his inky black hair.

    "I've never said this, and I know we've both had quite a bit to drink, and you will most likely forget that this ever happened, but if this is my chance to say this without it meaning... Meaning..." Sherlock stuttered, forcing himself not to cry. "Meaning you can go home to Mary and forget everything, I must say this now. John Watson, I am absolutely in love with you. I love you more than I thought humanly possible, and I will never stop loving you for as long as we both exist." Sherlock watched John's face with glassy eyes and pinkened face. 

    "Yes, but you know now. You know about my feelings towards you...

    "When I forget, and I'm truly sure I will, I will still love you." John pulled at Sherlock, falling to another wet and sloppy kiss."Always. Forever. No matter what." John kept mumbling into the kiss, until he realized a warm wetness soaking his and Sherlock's cheeks. He slowly opened his eyes as he pulled away, looking at Sherlock's eyes. Red and puffed, just as John had expected, and as he looked at him, he watched Sherlock crumble.

    "John...." Sherlock gasped, balling his hands into fists, clutching John's jumper. He nuzzled into John's chest and sobbed heavily, gasping for breaths. "I am sorry. I am sorry John... I'm selfish. I... I don't want this to end. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever. I've wanted this for so long, and..." Sherlock's chest heaved, soaking on his heavy words. "I won't forget this, but you will. I will watch you get married and I will selfishly imagine that I will be saying those vows next to you, proudly claiming you as my own, but I... I... I want you to be happy. That's I want. I just... I just... Oh, John." The broken happiness of Sherlock's poured onto John in a bitter mix of tears and remorse, all the while John had silently cried, cradling Sherlock in his arms. He buried his face in Sherlock's curls, breathing them in, knowing that it'd most likely be the first and last time that he could do so. After minutes of Sherlock staining John's jumper and John holding him so close, John cupped Sherlock's face and slowly raised it up to meet his. Their bloodshot eyes glanced into each other's and then both men quickly broke into hungry drags of their lips, teeth, and tongs. Sherlock straddled John, rocking his hips over John's. "You don't remember this," Sherlock whispered in rasps near John's ear, "but I will." Sherlock pulled John's jumper off and unbuttoned his shirt, running his fingers up John's torso, then stopped to grip his shoulders. John grabbed Sherlock's hips, both rocking together in rhythm as Sherlock leaned forward to John's ear and uttered "And this is the part I want to remember the most."