Live In Love

Confessions of A Drunk Detective

John drank the last of his ale and put down the bottle. He looked at the empty plate in front of him and smiled.

"That was the best burger I have had in a long time," John said contently. He looked up at Sherlock who had his fingers steepled at his chin. He was staring at John with an intense look on his face.

"What are you staring at?"

"Did you know you chew your food an average of 23 times?"

John looked at Sherlock and smirked. "Is that a fact?"

"Of course it is. Why would I tell you that if it wasn't?" Sherlock asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

John laughed and leaned back in the booth. "Well I guess that's good to know."

He smiled at Sherlock then looked at the bar.

"I'm going to get you a drink," John told him, glancing back at Sherlock.

"No, you're not," Sherlock scoffed.

John stood from the booth and headed to the bar.

"Yes I am, and you are going to drink it!" He called back with a wide grin John got the attention of the bartender and he walked over to meet him.

"Can I get you something?" the bartender asked with a smile on his face.

"I'd like a shot of the strongest alcohol you have," he said. The bartender chuckled and nodded.

"Sure. How about your boyfriend over there? What would he like?"

John laughed nervously and felt his face grow warm.

"Oh, we aren't a couple. He's just a friend. My colleague. Flatmate, actually," John rambled, feeling his face getting hotter. The bartender laughed and shook his head.

"Well, with the way he has been staring at you all night, you could have fooled me," he said with a wink.

John knew his face had to be bright red. He looked over his shoulder back at the booth. Sherlock, as if knowing they were talking about him, looked up and smiled. John smiled back weakly and looked back at the bartender. "Get him one of the same," John told him.

John walked back to the table with two shots of hard liquor. He sat one in front of Sherlock and one in front of himself.

"Why do you think I would drink that?" Sherlock asked, looking at the small glass carefully.

"I thought you wanted to "loosen up," John joked, a smile on his face.

"I tried jeans, that was enough loosening up for one day," he told him. John sighed and leaned back in his booth.

"Sherlock, if you don't like it, you don't have to drink another one. Just try it. Please?"

Sherlock sighed, then looked John in the eyes.

"Don't ever say I've never done anything for you, John Watson." Sherlock's eyes twinkled with excitement as he grabbed the shot glass. John smiled and grabbed his own glass.

"On the count of three," he said, and Sherlock nodded in agreement.

"One."

"Two..."

"Three!"

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About 1 hour and 5 shots later, the two men stumbled out of the bar, laughing and tripping over each other.

"I thought you didn't drink," John said, slurring his words.

Sherlock leaned against the wall of the bar and sighed.

"I didn't think I did either," he said, giggling. He stepped up to the edge of the sidewalk and started waving his hands like a mad-man.

"TA-XI! TA-XI!" he shouted, making John bust out laughing.

"Stop, stop it. You look like a loonie bird," John said as he ambled over to Sherlock. After a couple more tries, a cab finally stopped next to them. They climbed in and slumped against the cool leather seats.

"Where can I take you?" the cabbie asked.

"We need to go to 221B Drury Lane," Sherlock mumbled, laying his head against the glass.

"You are shit drunk," John laughed. "221B Baker Street, my good man."

The cabbie nodded and pulled off from the curb.

John looked beside him only to see Sherlock staring at him with a smile on his face.

"What are youuu smiling at?" John asked, leaning against the door.

Sherlock scooted closer to John and looked him in the eye.

"This was your whole plan, wasn't it? You wanted me to get drunk as pisssss," he started to say, but then erupted in to fits of giggling. John pushed Sherlock away and laughed.

"You are the worst drunk I have ever met," he told him. Sherlock scoffed.

"But I'm the cutest, right?" Sherlock said smugly. John looked at Sherlock in surprise.

"What'd you ask me?" he asked.

"John, you think I'm cute, don't you?" Sherlock asked, giggling like a child.

John tried to avoid the question and just shrugged. Sherlock scoffed and looked out the window.

"Funny how things work out. I think you're cute and you don't think I am. Figures as much," Sherlock grumbled.

Even though John was in one of the drunkest states he had ever been in, he knew he was hearing Sherlock correctly.

"You...think I'm cute?" John asked, his heart pounding in his ears.

"Wow, what is it like in your funny little brain? Have you really not noticed? I haven't been exactly discrete about it. I don't wear jeans for just anyone," Sherlock slurred, poking John in the nose. John smiled and pushed his hand away.

"Sherlock, you are drunk, you don't know what you are saying."

"I always know what I am saying!" Sherlock shouted. He scooted closer to John and laid his head in John's lap.

"Cmon, Jawwwwnn, say it. Say you think I'm cute!" John sighed and leaned his head back.

"Fine...I think you're cute," he said quietly.

"I knew it!" Sherlock shouted victoriously. Suddenly, the cab stopped and Sherlock rolled on to the floor.

"221B Baker Street!" the cabbie shouted, but all John could hear was Sherlock's voice in his head.  "I think you're cute," it repeated, and John felt his heart swell.