Author's Note: This is my first ever fanfiction. I hope you enjoy it :) *note: nothing actually provocative happens in this, though it may sound like it*

John woke with a nauseating headache and a dry mouth. He shifted in his bed a little and realized that he was naked and not alone. The arm around his waist tightened as he tried to get up. He tried to twist around and see who was holding him, but the arm tightened even more so that he couldn't move from his position. Think, John, Think. What happened last night after you left the bar? All John could remember was that he was having a few pints with Lestrade and talking about cases. But what happened after that? He remembered that he left the bar insanely drunk, but after that everything was a blur.

He closed his eyes and focused, trying to figure out the blurry parts of his memory. John was complaining to Lestrade about how aggravating Sherlock has been as of late because there were no "interesting cases".

Then Lestrade jokingly remarked, "Geez John, you talk about Sherlock an awful lot these days, you sound like a school girl with a bit of a crushed." He proceeded to wink after that statement and John nearly spit out the beer he was drinking.

"Wh-What? I-No we-I mean….I don't have a crush on Sherlock!" John managed to reply without choking on his drink.

"Getting a bit defensive there, aren't we?"

"Listen, Greg, sure…Sherlock is a pretty good looking guy, but I mean…we aren't….I'm not…gay!" saying the last word, an octave higher than the rest.

"Whatever you say, mate. All I know is that with the looks you two have, anyone could mistake you two as a couple." Greg replied sipping his pint and giving a John a 'you-two-are-so-together' look.

John groaned and downed the rest of his pint in one sitting, then proceeded to get another. After a few pints here and there and the topic changing to more cases, John suddenly blurted out, "Ok, so what if I…..kind of….like Sherlock? It doesn't change anything, he is asexual."

"Is that what you think?" Lestrade said with a smile.

"Well, isn't he?"

"All I can say is that Sherlock is neither asexual nor straight."

"And how the HELL do you know that?"

"Let's just say, a little birdie told me, a 'minor-position-in-the-Government' birdie." Lestrade responded with a wink.

"Since when do you and Mycro-"

That's when Lestrade's phone went off. "Hello? Yeah, I'm at the bar, you would know. Ok. Sure, I'll be there soon. Ok, bye." Lestrade got off the phone and his face went slightly pink. Could that be from all the alcohol or something else? John thought. "Sorry John, but I got to go. Be careful getting home, and you should probably tell him how you really feel. You'll be in for a surprise on what he really thinks about you." John opened his mouth to say something but Lestrade already got up, hailed a cab, and left.

John stayed at the bar for a few more hours, drinking pint after pint, contemplating on if he should or should not tell Sherlock. Hell, he probably already knows, knowing him. It still doesn't calm his nerves. If he already knows and hasn't said anything, is that just his nice way of saying he wasn't interested? What did Lestrade mean by 'you'll be in for a surprise'? Does he know something I don't know? "This is crazy!" John yelled to himself.

After about a large amount of alcohol consumption later, John came to a conclusion. I'm drunk, I'm hopelessly in love. Now seems like the best time as any to tell him. And with that thought, John got into a cab and made his way back to 221B.

Oh God, Oh God, Oh Bloody God. I told him, I told Sherlock. I can't believe I told him. Now I'm going to have to find a new flatshare and I'll lose my best friend. This is the worst thing that could ever happen to me!

The body behind him shifted slightly, groaning in the process. John immediately froze at the sound of the voice. No, it can't possibly.

He tried turning his head around without moving his body to see who was spooning him. That's when he caught a glimpse of black, curly hair. He froze. "Sher-Sherlock?" John gasped.

"Hnnnnnn" said the person behind him, not quite awake. John immediately sprang from his bed, prying the arm around his waist, and grabbing a pillow to cover himself with. John stared at the body that was lying in front of him, on his bed, naked.

There lying in his bed was the 'only-one-in-the-world' consulting detective, his partner, his best friend, completely and utterly naked. "SHERLOCK!" John yelled, not necessarily yelling at him, but was just surprised overall that 'the Sherlock' was in his bed.

Damn, this cannot be happening. This must be a dream. This is impossible!

"Must you be so loud at-", Sherlock looks at the clock, "5:53 in the morning?" Sherlock groaned and sat up in the bed staring at his blogger, who was covering himself with a pillow. "Really John? You're going to cover yourself now? Really, after what we did last night, there is no need to cover yourself. I've seen everything." Sherlock said with a smirk, purposefully staring at John's pillow-covered junk.

"Sherlock, you….what did we…..how-"

"Feel free to finish a complete sentence anytime soon, John." Sherlock grinned, lying back down on the bed in the most seductive position.

"Did…..we?" John motioned with one hand between the two of them.

"I don't know, John. You tell me. Deduce what happened last night, it's a shame you don't remember." Sherlock smiled a wicked smile at John, then proceeded to lie on his back and look up at the ceiling. "No rush, really. You weren't drunk enough to forget everything we did." Sherlock smiled again. "I'm sure you'll remember sooner or later. I'd prefer sooner, rather than later though."

John looked at himself in the mirror next to where he was standing. He was covered in love bites. Not to mention that his body ached just as badly as his head, his backside ached the most. Oh God. He thought.

John looked around the room. Damn it to hell. There were Sherlock's and John's clothes thrown all around John's room. There was a wrapper on the floor next to John's bottle of lube that he usually kept in his bedside drawer. Is that a condom wrapper? He thought, though he already knew the answer to that. He sighed.

John's bed was a complete mess. The covers were all over the floor, and the only blanket that was on his bed was wrapped graciously around Sherlock's lower body.

Apparently John was staring too long at Sherlock's gorgeous, love bite ridden body because Sherlock suddenly said, "Do you plan on deducing anything or are you just going to stand there and stare at me?" He turned his head to stare directly at John. John blushed.

"We…..had sex didn't we?" John asked. Looking anywhere, but Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock huffed and got up from the bed and walked over to John. John turned his head, not looking at the naked Sherlock walking closer and closer to him.

"Yes, my dear Watson. We did." Sherlock whispered into John's ear sending John's heart beat into a rapid sprint and making his face bright red. Sherlock smiled and licked John's ear. John turned his head toward Sherlock to look him straight in the eyes.

Sherlock took the pillow away from John and tossed it aside. John just stood their staring into Sherlock's eyes. His breath became shallow and he felt like he couldn't move.

Sherlock took a step closer to John. Sherlock placed his hand on John's face and wrapped his other arm around John's waist. Sherlock smiled at John and closed the gap between them with a kiss. The kiss was soft and gentle. John was surprised at first, but then he wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck and played with his soft, curly hair with his hands.

The kiss ended far too earlier than John would like. John whimpered and Sherlock smiled a wicked grin. "Oh John, since you can't seem to remember what happened last night….I guess I'll have to remind you." Sherlock kissed him again, but this time it was fierce and passionate with a hint of tongue.

John pulled away and smiled. "Please do remind me of EVERYTHING we did last night Sherlock."

Sherlock smiled and pulled John over to his bed. "As you wish, my dear Watson."