The criminal was caught, the case wrapped up, and John was buzzing with energy.

It wasn't anything spectacular, just a drink with a mate, but when that mate was Sherlock Holmes who knows what could happen. Admittedly they did go a bit overboard, maybe a few more drinks then they should have. Neither would quite remember when they'd moved on from John's lager and Sherlock's white wine to something much stronger and more potent. All John knew was that at some point he had looked into Sherlock's unsteady gaze and Sherlock had looked back.

Neither knew who initiated. Truth-be-told it had probably been an unspoken, mutual decision. But soon enough they were snogging in a dark corner of a crowded pub and it was wonderful.

Later, on the way home, stumbling down the street together, they ducked into a dark alley to snog again, Sherlock pressing John up against the brick wall, tracing kisses down his neck, John tangling his fingers in Sherlock's dark, luscious curls.

And again in the flat after finally making it up the stairs, they kissed. Softer this time, lovingly. John followed Sherlock into his room. They were far too drunk to do anything other than fall into bed together, curled around each other. Sherlock nuzzled into the space where John's shoulder met his neck and John rested his chin on Sherlock's head and they slept.

…

The sun seemed to be shooting something akin to lasers through John's eyelids and straight into the middle of his brain. He moaned and snuggled closer into his covers. The arms around him-

Arms?

John shot his eyes open at the shock and immediately regretted it. He moaned again and brought a hand up to rub at his stinging eyes. Something in his vicinity moved and John heard a contented sigh. Opening his eyes more slowly so as to give them time to adjust to the light, John was faced with the sight of a sleeping Sherlock. And the night before came rushing back to him.

He had kissed Sherlock.

He, John, had kissed Sherlock!

John sat up, cradling his pounding head in his hands.

Beside him, Sherlock began to stir, making a disappointed sound when he realized John was not beside him anymore. John looked down at his flatmate and Sherlock smiled, his eyes still barley opened.

"Morning."

His voice was gruff from sleeping and did funny things to John's stomach. John ignored this and let out a breathy little laugh.

"Morning."

The two were silent. Sherlock stretched and yawned and then propped himself up on his elbows.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly. John shrugged.

"I've done some mad things while plastered but this really takes the cake." He laughed again. A hysterical little giggle escaping from his mouth.

He cleared his throat and looked back down at Sherlock who was staring at him with a pensive expression.

"Do you regret it?"

John stared, blinked, let out an audible breath and smiled.

"I-." He started and stopped, rubbing his hands over his eyes again and wishing he could have this conversation when he was less hung over. It did not help that Sherlock did not seem to be suffering any ill effects from the previous night whatsoever.

"I'm not gay." He said finally. Sherlock's expression was mild but John nevertheless felt as though his gaze was boring into him, "I'm not. I've never had the interest. I mean, I did have this mate, Chris, at Uni and after we'd know each other a few years he admitted that he'd had feelings for me and we kissed. But it didn't feel right. I don't have anything against it. I just…don't feel that way about men." John was aware that he was rambling. Still, Sherlock stared impassively at him.

"Did it feel right last night?"

John stared again into those grayish green eyes.

"Last night I was drunk." He said lamely and John thought he saw something painful flash behind Sherlock's otherworldly eyes, "But…" John turned towards the other man in the bed, moving forward slightly, "I do remember it feeling…good."

Sherlock's lips turned up slightly.

"Perhaps," John said moving even closer so he was now straddling Sherlock, hands on either side of his face, "It might be good to try again. Now that we are both more sober that is."

Sherlock smiled and it lit up his eyes in a way that John distinctly liked.

"Yes, perhaps that would be a good idea."

John brought his lips down slowly, his heart racing in his chest, until their lips were mere inches apart and he could feel Sherlock's hot breath. Licking his lips in anticipation, John closed the gap.

After several minutes of 'experimenting' they emerged for air.

"Well?" Sherlock asked, gasping for breath.

John, eyes closed, rested his forehead against Sherlock's and smiled.

"That was…good. Very, very good."

They both laughed and John rolled off his flatmate.

"This is completely mad."

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, John sat up and looked over at the other man.

"What about you?" John asked, determined to not be the only to have a good hard look at their feelings this morning.

Sherlock blinked and raised his eyebrows.

"Me?"

John grinned.

"Yes you."

Sherlock was silent a moment in contemplation, his eyebrows pulled together.

"I've never given it much thought." He brought his lower lip between his teeth, suddenly looking much younger and more vulnerable; His gaze was vague as he stared at the wall as though not really seeing it, "I have never been particularly close with anyone. Not my parents, not Mycroft. I never made any especially good friends when I was a child. All of my sexual encounters at Uni were strictly experimental in nature and I never really cared for any of my partners, male or female." He blinked and shifted his gaze to John, "but I find myself caring for you more and more." He reached out and took John's hand entwining their fingers together and said, as though he couldn't believe the words were coming out of his mouth, "In fact, I do believe I am falling in love with you."

The words hung in the air between them and John lay down on his side facing Sherlock.

"You know." He said, "I do believe I am falling in love with you too."