A Study In Love - A Johnlock Fanfiction

Chapter Three

Hi! Just a quick little note here to say thank you everyone who's read/is reading this. Hope you like it so far. I know it's not to exciting right now but things are about to pick up, I promise. :)

Also, am I updating this often enough? I mean, I could try to write faster or something if a few days is too long in between, or I could slow down if it's not long enough. If you see this, please let me know what you think! Again, thanks for reading!

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Despite the fact that Sherlock was incredibly thin and underweight, John still struggled to support his weight as they left the tiki bar. Sherlock had downed four more of those drinks and as a result was now completely hammered. It was strange to see Sherlock drunk. He was still himself, arrogant and everything, but his words were incredibly slurred and he went off on tangents about the most random things. While John was trying to get him to leave the tiki bar he had tried to convince a group of tourists that he was a native citizen of Guatemala. He rattled off facts and information that no one other than a native would know, and even in his obviously drunken state the tourists seemed to believe him. Then when they made it back to the hotel he went on an hour long rant about how room service contributes to obesity. Then he began complaining about some book he'd read recently. He wouldn't tell John anything about the novel except that the ending was atrocious. John wasn't sure what was worse, the fact that Sherlock had then spent an hour listing synonyms for the word atrocious, or the fact that he'd actually sat silently and listened to them all.

John sat on the edge of the bed and watched Sherlock as he stumbled around the room, mumbling to himself about how he should write a book. When he heard this, John found himself laughing quite loudly. Sherlock sent him a harsh glare, and he immediately shut up.

"Sorry Sherlock," he said standing up. He took a few steps towards the detective. "I'm sure your book would be phenomenal."

"Of course it would," Sherlock said, walking away from him. He ran his hands over his face and let out a breath. When he opened his eyes, he looked around like he'd never seen the inside of a hotel room before. "Why is the room spinning?"

"Because you're pissed drunk."

"I'm what?"

"Drunk. Intoxicated. Inebriated. Need I go on?" John smiled to himself when he saw the look on Sherlock's face when he said this. He looked like he couldn't believe John actually had those words in his vocabulary. After a while a slow smile spread across his face.

"I see what you've done," he said, wagging a finger at John. The movement of his hand seemed to throw Sherlock a bit off balance, as he stumbled around a bit before finding a wall to lean on. He folded his arms across his chest and gave John a knowing look. John just stared back, completely confused by the way Sherlock was looking at him.

"What, have I done, exactly?" Sherlock took in a deep breath, and laughed. The deep rumbling of his voice could be felt in John's chest. It was a strange sensation, but he almost liked it.

"You planned this." Sherlock attempted to push himself off of the wall, but after wobbling a bit on his feet he leaned against it once again. "You took me to that bar to get me drunk, so you could finally be the most intelligent one in the room." He laughed and shook his head. "Good one."

"Sherlock, I have no idea what you're talking about." John walked over to where Sherlock was standing and grabbed his arm, putting it around his own shoulders. He placed his arm around his waist and pulled him away from the wall.

"What are you doing?!" Sherlock asked.

"You need to be laying down." Sherlock rested his head on John's shoulder while they walked across the room, and when they reached the bed he wouldn't let go of him. "Sherlock…"