The Best Thing

I'm still fairly new to this fandom and I've never read a word of ACD's original work or seen any other Sherlock Homes version that exists. All I know is the BBC's version, which I fell quickly and deeply in love with. So, sorry if the characters seem a bit OOC, this is the best I could come up with. Hope you have fun reading it.

The song used in here is "The Best Thing" by Relient K. Listen to it if you got the chance. It so fits.

Cause when I looked into your eyes
And you dared to stare right back
You should've said…

It was four o'clock in the morning when John Watson stumbled up to the door of 221B Baker Street in a rather uncommon state of inebriation. He'd never been much of a drinker… well, no, he liked the occasional beer just like the next guy. But his sister's shining example of what alcohol could do to a person had always stopped him from indulging too much.

So tonight's state was pretty exceptional for John. But it had been Mike Stamford's 40th birthday and he'd invited John and a few colleagues from Bart's to a pub nearby. John hadn't gone out much lately, if you didn't count his running around town chasing murderers with the world's only consulting detective – and John certainly didn't, and even that had quieted down significantly since the pool incident three months ago.

The blossoming relationship he'd had with Sarah had also petered out over the past months. Right now it was more or less resembling a plant you'd forgotten to water before going on holiday: it was dried out and dead.

So, yeah. When Mike had invited him, John had seized the opportunity to get out of the flat and meet new people. Or have a nice night out with old people, friends, people he knew and liked, whatever you'd wanna call it. John had gone out and he'd had a good time as well as a few beers too much.

That wasn't a crime, was it? Certainly not.

The huge racket the door was making right now - it had slipped out of John's uncoordinated grasp and had shut with a bang that would wake the dead – now that on the other hand could be seen as a crime. 'Disturbance of Peace' wouldn't look so good on his record, John reckoned.

"Shht, you…" he therefore scolded the door immediately. "We mustn't wake Mrs. Hudson. Or – God forbid – Mrs. Turner next door. Though, I assume she's used to a bit of nightly noise since, you know, she's got married ones."

The drunken giggle that escaped John's throat lasted only halfway up the stairs. The other half was spent concentrating on not toppling down again and it ended in scowling at his feet when they wouldn't obey his command to carry on.

So instead of climbing another flight of stairs to his bedroom John decided to head for the living room instead. He stumbled in and shut the door, resting his forehead against it for a second.

"Morning,"

The deep baritone voice of his flatmate shouldn't have startled John for he should have expected Sherlock to be up at this hour (after all, the man never seemed to sleep, ever). Nevertheless John's heart nearly jumped out of his throat and he swirled around.

Sherlock was sitting on the couch in his usual attire (blue silk dressing gown over a grey t-shirt and dark sleeping pants) and his dark curls were messy as if he'd perhaps slept after all, or had tried to until John had stumbled in.

John felt guilty immediately and his gaze fell down to the ground. That's when he remembered the problem he'd had climbing up the stairs and he looked at Sherlock again with a confused frown.

"Are these my feet?"

Sherlock didn't think the question worthy of an answer, so he kept silent and continued to look at John like he was a new, albeit strange, experiment.

John shuffled his feet. "Oh, right. It's just that, earlier, they didn't seem to… but, really? Are they?"

"Are they what?"

"My feet."

Sherlock's lips twitched. "It would appear so, yes."

"Oh, good," John nodded but tried to shake his head at the same time. What came out was a rather funny-looking circling motion. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, John," Sherlock's lips twitched some more. "I'm sure."

"Good, yes, that's…" John nodded again, this time without the headshake, and took a few swaying steps away from the door. He plopped down into the chair, his chair, the one with the Union Jack cushion, and closed his eyes. "I think I'm a bit drunk."

"Obviously," Sherlock confirmed. "So, you had a good night?"

Sherlock didn't know why he'd said that. It was obvious from John's state that the night had been a success, at least alcohol-wise, and it's not like he cared one way or another in the first place. Before he had time to analyse this further though John's eyes snapped open again.

"A good night, yes. The best I've had in…" John broke off with a frown. "Well, no. Not the best since, you know, you weren't there and you're the best… oh, hang on! That reminds me… why didn't you tell me? You should have, you know, you must have known, you're Sherlock Holmes, so you know. You always know. You should have said…"

The drunken rant came to a sudden end when John ran out of breath. He let his head fall back against the cushions and closed his eyes again.

"That made no sense, John," Sherlock stated calmly and got up from the couch.

"Oh, but it does," John sat up abruptly. "Makes perfect sense. Makes sense from first to last. Every line, every verse. The best… that's… yeah," he slumped back again. "The second I heard it… blimey, it hit me like, yeah, it made perfect sense. I didn't know but you should have. Right, you should have… you being the genius and all, you should have said: 'Nice to meet you, I'm your other half.' You really should've… should…"

John's voice had gotten more quiet with every slurred word until finally he'd passed out, or fallen asleep. Sherlock wasn't sure which one it was, so he took a step closer to John's slumped form and closely examined the slack face.

With his head lolled slightly to his right and his legs stretched out John looked very peaceful, so Sherlock decided to let him be. Besides, he had a far more pressing business to attend to right now.

John's words… something he'd said… Sherlock could either write it off as the ramblings of a drunken man or… or…

He turned around and in two quick strides crossed the space to his desk. Sitting down he flicked his laptop open and typed in a few words.

It didn't take long for the search machine to spit out a various amount of links and Sherlock chose the first one. While the page loaded he turned his head to throw a quick look at his sleeping flatmate. John's head had slumped further down, his chin now resting on his chest, and soft grunting noises came out between puffs of breath. Sherlock smiled.

Almost reluctantly he turned his head to look at the laptop again. He scrolled down the page until he'd found what he was looking for and began to read.

Ninety seconds later Sherlock stood up and started pacing the room. He stopped in front of the mantle and gazed at the skull.

No help from there, so Sherlock looked at John again. The state he was in (apparently deeply asleep for the time being) provided Sherlock with not so much help either but then again, it's not like more help was really necessary.

'No,' Sherlock thought with a content smile. 'John has given me all the clues already, so now it's my turn to solve this mystery.'

And, being the master of deduction, the answer came to Sherlock in the blink of an eye. It had probably been there on his hard drive all along, hidden amongst facts and data he'd deemed important enough to memorize.

This new information now, Sherlock knew for a fact, certainly deserved to occupy a big spot of his brain. And (probably for the first time in his life) it managed to ingrain itself in his heart as well.

John woke up with a crick in his neck and a taste in his mouth as if one of Sherlock's more gruesome experiments had found its way inside. Knowing his flatmate (and not putting it past him to use John for things like that) John let his tongue cautiously probe around his mouth. It found nothing but teeth and bad breath.

Good, or… well, not exactly good but…

John tried to shake the fuzziness from his head and let out a small groan when his headache increased. Nevertheless he opened his eyes, and groaned some more when sunlight hit them square on.

Squinting around the flat his gaze immediately fell onto Sherlock's open laptop. The fluorescent blue background of the loaded page hurt his eyes even more than the light of day and so John peeled his body from the seat and stumbled over to the desk in order to close the laptop.

But then something on the screen caught his eye.

John bent over and, resting both elbows on the desk, read the subject that stared back at him in bold letters.

(Lyrics) "The Best Thing" by Relient K

"Oh, no," John groaned when something in his fuzzy brain clicked into place. He scrolled down the page and… "God, no. Please, tell me I didn't…"

"Quite an interesting song, don't you think?"

For the second time in the span of mere hours Sherlock's deep and calm voice nearly gave John a heart attack. He turned around, one hand on his heaving chest, while the other one flew up to his head. He briefly closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face as if to wipe away (or hide from) the sight of Sherlock sauntering over from the kitchen.

He was dressed the same as before (John now remembered coming home last night – thank you very much) and was calmly sipping coffee from a mug in his left hand while approaching slowly.

"Sherlock," John's voice sounded weak to his own ears and he winced. "I'm sorry, I don't, that is… I didn't mean to…"

"Mean to what, John?" Sherlock stopped two feet away from John. He took another quick sip of coffee, probably to hide his smile behind the mug, and his amused gaze briefly drifted to the laptop before his eyes settled on John again.

John felt a prickling heat hit his back, it felt as if the damn lyrics of that stupid song were suddenly jumping off the screen and onto him to torment him physically (as if the emotional torment he was currently experiencing wasn't enough already).

"It's not what you think," John hurried to explain. "I was drunk and… it doesn't mean that… it doesn't mean anything really. It's stupid and, really, don't think about it. It's nothing."

"Pity," Sherlock replied and his eyes shifted behind John again. "I thought the lyrics rather fitting."

"I know that you don't…" John broke off when Sherlock's words had fully reached his addled brain. "Ah, sorry, what? I mean, huh, what?"

Sherlock bent down to put the mug on the coffee table before he straightened up and held out his right hand in greeting. John stood motionless, stunned beyond words, but his eyes flew from Sherlock's face to his hand and back.

"Nice to meet you," Sherlock's dark voice wrapped itself around John's insides like a warm blanket. "I'm your other half."

And suddenly John's face lit up like a Christmas tree. He clasped Sherlock's hand, squeezed it, and his smile broadened even further at feeling the perfect fit of their joined hands.

Behind them the laptop's screen continued to glow with the unspoken evidence of what they both knew was definitely the best thing.

It's been a year
Filled with problems
But now you're here
Almost as if to solve them
And I can't live in a world without you now

All my life
I've been searching for you
How did I survive
In this world before you
Cause I don't wanna live another day without you now

This is the best thing
The best thing that could be happening
And I think you would agree
The best thing is that it's
Happening to you and me

All I'm gonna have
Is all that you can give me
And I'll give right back
Everything I have in me
Cause nothing ever felt as right
As this does right now

I'll go back to before we met
Try and erase the past
Try harder to forget cause
Nothing will ever be as good as here and now

Cause when I looked into your eyes
And you dared to stare right back
You should've said "Nice to meet you, I'm your other half"

And this is the best thing
The best thing that could be happening
And I think you would agree
The best thing is that it's happening
This is the best thing (the best thing)
The best thing that could be happening (the best thing)
And I think you would agree (whoooaaa whooaa)
The best thing is that it's
Happening to you and me

Always knew
I'd find someone
I never dreamt
It'd be like this
You've surpassed
All that I've hoped for (and ever wished)
And I'm tryin'
So hard
With all my heart and mind
To make your life
As good as you've made mine

This is the best thing (the best thing)
The best thing that could be happening (the best thing)
And I think you would agree (whooaaa)
The best thing is that it's happening to you and me

The best thing is that it's happening to you and me
The best thing is that it's happening to you and me

(The best thing) The best thing that could be happening
(The best thing) I think you would agree
The best thing is that it's happening to you and me

The End (for now)

Please let me know what you think.